Meet Khe Hy, the man who fled Wall Street

Wall Street life

I was 31 years old and had checked off a lot of boxes.

I was one of the youngest Managing Directors at a top Wall Street firm. I was regularly pulling in 7-figure pay checks. And I owned a swanky NYC apartment with a rooftop pool.

I'd sit court side at Madison Square Garden, watched Super Bowl XLVIII from a luxury box and snowboarded on private mountains.

Yup, everything this skinny and insecure kid of Cambodian immigrants had dreamed of — had come true.

Yet something felt off.

I was living the deferred life plan.

My entire life had been centered around this specific moment.

The SAT flash cards, the 100 hour work weeks, When I become a managing director, then I'll be happy.

Yet here I was, a made man (who was about to become a father) and I couldn't keep going. Every second of my time was controlled by a demanding boss, an unreasonable client or a last-minute fire drill.

Chunks of my hair would fall out because of stress.

So I escaped the golden handcuffs.

I quit.

I walked away from $900,000 of deferred comp.

During my peak earning years.

Without a plan.

I wanted to own my time, express myself creatively and see if I could fulfill a "retirement dream" of mine. To live by the beach and surf every day.

Surfing lifestyle

I also didn't want to miss the "Magic Window"

As a new dad, I also wanted to inject a twist into fatherhood.

I suspected that there'd be a stretch of time, say 10 years, when my wife and I would be the center of our kids' universe.

During this special period, they'd wait at the door like a puppy for you to come home. They'd want you to lay in bed with them until they fell asleep.

And then one day — it would end.

You'd become a second class citizen to their besties, Ariana Grande or (god forbid) a love interest.

This was obviously, the natural process of parenthood. But I wanted to make sure that I maximized that special time with them.

How do you make work feel like play?

Despite having a healthy portfolio of investments and ample financial runway — I still needed to work.

Sure, we could've moved to a rural LCOL area, but we're kinda bougie.

We like living in big expensive cities, flying premium economy, going to nice restaurants, getting good concert tickets.

But more importantly, the goal was never to NOT WORK.

Plus, not working was never the goal.

So I experimented, developed new skills and, honestly, tried a bunch of shit.

Unicorn illustration

Over the past decade, I've been a writer, coach, online instructor, public speaker, AI coder and community builder.

I've come nowhere close to replicating my Wall Street income. Truthfully, I took a 90% pay cut, which still stings. But I redefined success on my own terms:

Now I start every day creatively energized and constantly collaborating with incredible humans.

Just like you.

Life as Post-Achievement professional

My career pivot has forced me to confront my complicated relationship with money, status and achievement.

Like many high-performing professionals, I learned the hard way that success alone can't fill the emptiness that comes from tying your self-worth to your achievements.

This journey requires deep self-reflection to overcome limiting beliefs and rewrite internal narratives that are no longer serving you.

And I'm honored to be a provocateur, friend and cheerleader on this journey.

Khe Hy