The Long Way 'Round

May 11, 2026

Showing Up

This past weekend I graduated from Georgia Tech with a Master’s in Analytics.

That’s not a sentence I would have expected to write thirty years ago.

Back then, I found myself on the Georgia Tech campus, sitting across from a professor who, in a polite and professional way, told me I was not good enough to attend. The rejection was deflating but not devastating. I knew my undergraduate record was not the strongest, and I was looking for a chance wherever I could find one.

So, I did what had worked for me up to that point in my life.

I showed up.

I traveled to campus with my girlfriend, believing if I made the effort, had the conversation, and made my case, I might be able to change the outcome. Up until then, that approach had served me well. It’s amazing how many opportunities one can get simply by showing up. Doors tend to open if you are willing to walk up and knock.

Until they don’t.

Looking back, I can see I misunderstood the moment. This was Georgia Tech, one of the best technical schools in the country, and I was a burned-out math major trying to talk his way into graduate school after taking time off. Still, I believed if someone gave me the opportunity, I could figure it out eventually.

The campus bookstore even had t-shirts that joked about MIT being “the Georgia Tech of the North.” I remember seeing that and thinking… maybe I had misread the room...just a little.

Still, I was determined to go somewhere.

The Plan (That Wasn’t)

The original plan had been to take a year off after finishing my undergraduate degree. I was burned out and wanted time to reset. A mentor advised against the gap year. Since I was in my early 20’s, I was confident I knew more than anyone else, so I took the year off anyway.

One year turned into three. Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.

Getting back into academia proved harder than expected. Funded positions were competitive, and I was working to improve my GRE scores while applying anywhere that might give me a shot. Eventually, I found the right fit at Washington State University, where I earned my Master’s in Mathematics and was given the opportunity to grow into the work. Along the way, my girlfriend became my fiancée, and I found myself facing a new question: "What do now?"

At one point, I thought the answer might be college basketball.

I was playing and coaching regularly, and I knew enough coaches to believe I might get a chance if I stuck with it. The plan was simple: keep working camps, meet the right people, and eventually land a role. I did not say it was a great plan, but it had the key ingredient most plans have at that age: overconfidence.

Over time, reality set in. The lifestyle of constant travel, frequent moves, and time away from family lost its appeal. I also developed an appreciation for things like food and shelter, and coaching did not always guarantee either.

So, I pivoted.

A Different Door Opens

As I was making my exit from academia, I interviewed with a consulting firm. The hiring manager had a PhD in Physics, and we spent most of our conversation talking about math, science, and the courses I had taken.

I had no real programming experience, which made me a questionable fit on paper.

At the end of the interview, he said something I have never forgotten: “You have never been a programmer, have no corporate experience, but you have a master’s in math. I can teach you how to program, you will learn the rest.”

And he did.

That single opportunity set the direction for the next 28 years of my career. Like many people, I found something that worked and stayed with it. Aside from a layoff during the dot-com era early on, my professional life settled into a long stretch of stability: only two jobs over more than twenty years.

It was consistent, predictable, and, for the most part, satisfying.

The Gap

Over time, the field changed.

Analytics evolved. Tools became more powerful. Expectations shifted. I could tell where I was relying on experience instead of understanding. I knew how to use the tools and get results, but there is a difference between knowing and understanding. The difference between looking up in the sky, seeing the stars, but not seeing the light.

Eventually, that difference started to matter.

I suspect this happens to most people eventually, if they are paying attention. You reach a point where experience alone no longer feels like enough. If you have been in your career long enough, you probably recognize the feeling. Things are working, but you notice the gaps. You can keep going as you are, or you can decide to go back and fill them in.

I think, deep down, I knew I was not ready to become someone whose best learning experiences were all behind him.

Back to School

That’s when I found the Online Master of Science in Analytics (OMSA) program at Georgia Tech.

Same school, different doorway. I would be lying if I said I was not afraid of facing a second rejection. Here I was, again asking for someone to give me a chance, and needing to show them I was capable of doing the work.

I gathered recommendations, submitted everything, and waited. I even thought briefly about visiting campus again but decided against it. Old habits die hard, I guess. This was not about making an impression. It was about being prepared.

When the acceptance came, I did not overthink it.

I got to work.

When Everything Moves

I started the program in January 2023. I jumped in with two classes right away, thinking I needed to “catch up,” even though I was never “behind” to begin with. Around the same time, everything else in my life started to shift.

After more than two decades of stability, my professional world became far less predictable.

Jobs and roles shifted. Companies changed direction. Stability gave way to uncertainty.

Some of the changes were my choice. Most were not. Taken together, these changes created a level of disruption I had not experienced in years. The consistency I had taken for granted was gone, replaced with sustained uncertainty.

Through all of it, my wife had a front-row seat to the chaos, which I am fairly certain was not part of the original sales pitch back in 1994.

Before my entry to the OMSA program, I found Stoicism. A core tenet of Stoicism is the ability to recognize the boundary between what you can, and cannot, control. It’s a simple concept, but a difficult one to apply in a consistent manner. Jobs change. Organizations evolve. Plans don’t always hold.

The work, however, is always there.

And showing up, it turns out, is still important. But life tends to demand more than just your presence.

So that’s what I did. I focused on my coursework. The assignments and materials gave me the opportunity to not think about all the external instability happening. And I kept going, week after week, semester after semester. Not because I had something to prove, but because the work, and my effort, was something I could control.

The Return

As I sat at commencement, I thought back to that first visit to Georgia Tech — the cramped office, the short conversation, and the realization I was not ready. At the time, I believed showing up was enough. And for a while, it was.

Until it wasn’t.

For a long time, when I thought about writing this story, it centered around the initial rejection from Georgia Tech all those years ago. When I started putting words on paper I jokingly referred to earning this degree as my “revenge tour.”

Sitting at commencement, though, I realized it was never about the rejection, or revenge. What I craved, all these years later, was **resolution**.

Looking back, I do not think the professor was wrong that day so many years ago. What I did not understand then was how much timing matters in life. If I had attended and struggled, that would not have been success for anyone. It would have been a different, and much harsher, lesson.

Instead, I went somewhere else. I learned what I needed to learn, built a career, raised a family, and eventually found my way back.

*Amor fati.*

The rejection was never something to overcome. It was part of the path. The rejection did not define me, it pushed me to keep going, keep learning, and to be ready when the opportunity to “show up” came again, but through a different door.

Because sometimes showing up is enough.

And sometimes it is not.

The difference is knowing which moment you are in, and what to do next.