I’m sitting on my front porch in Iowa wondering how the hell I got here.
Twenty years ago, I had a plan so clean you could’ve framed it: graduate vet school, move back to West Virginia, treat animals, run a practice, stay close to home. Simple. Linear. The kind of career path that makes guidance counselors nod approvingly.
Today? I’m the Executive Director of Hospital Operations at Iowa State’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Leading a major teaching hospital. Making decisions that affect hundreds of students, faculty, and thousands of animals. Living in a state I couldn’t have located on a map in 2015.
And I keep asking myself: How did an Appalachian kid who graduated vet school with honors but never quite fit the mold end up running one of the country’s premier veterinary teaching hospitals?
The answer isn’t my transcript. (Though I’ll take those honors, thank you very much.)
It isn’t some brilliant 20-year master plan. (My plan was basically “try not to screw up too badly.”)
The answer is career capital—and understanding that messy, non-linear careers often build the most valuable and unusual skill combinations you’ll ever have.
Let me explain. And yes, there’s a part where selling shoes on the internet becomes relevant to running a multi-million-dollar hospital. I promise it makes sense.
What Is Career Capital? (And Why It Matters More Than Your Resume)
Career capital is like a bank account, except way less depressing to think about than your actual checking account.
Instead of depositing money you don’t have (and then immediately spending it on things you also don’t need), you’re depositing:
- Skills nobody asked you to learn (but you learned anyway because you were curious or bored or the alternative was worse)
- Experiences that seemed completely random (and honestly still seem pretty random even in hindsight)
- Relationships you built with no immediate ROI (you just liked talking to people who weren’t actively dying or yelling at you)
- Problems you solved outside your job description (but somebody had to deal with it, and apparently that somebody was you because everyone else suddenly had “a meeting”)
Here’s the catch, and it’s a big one: There’s no account statement.
No app. No balance you can check. No helpful notification that says “Congratulations! You just earned 47 Career Capital Points! Keep up the good work, you absolute legend!”
You’re just out here living your life, doing weird things, taking random opportunities, working jobs that don’t seem to connect, thinking, “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing and I’m pretty sure everyone can tell.”
And then—usually 15–20 years later, right around the time you’ve made peace with being a beautiful disaster—opportunity knocks.
And you suddenly realize: Oh. OH. That’s what all that weird stuff was for. Holy shit.
💡 “Career capital is the account you’re building without knowing it exists. There’s no statement. No balance. Just deposits you’ll cash years later when you least expect it and most need it.”
That’s career capital. And I’ve been accidentally building it for two decades while thinking I was just trying to keep my head above water and my student loans at bay.
How I Built Career Capital Through a Career Path That Looks Like a Drunk Snake Drew It
Let me walk you through what my “career plan” actually looked like. Spoiler: it looked like chaos held together with duct tape, prayer, and the vague hope that everything would work out eventually.
Deposit #1: Private Practice (Learning to Function on Chaos and Coffee)
Fresh out of vet school in 2001, I joined a small animal practice in Huntington, West Virginia. Eventually became a partner and hospital administrator. Saw thousands of patients over six years. Did everything from routine wellness exams to emergency surgeries at 2 AM when someone’s dog ate something spectacularly, impressively stupid.
(Side note: Dogs will eat literally anything. Socks. Rocks. An entire bag of Halloween candy including the wrappers. The contents of a Barbie Dream House. A TV remote. Their own toys, which were specifically designed to be safe for them to chew…)
What I thought I was learning: How to be a veterinarian.
What I was actually depositing:
- Crisis management
- Client relations
- Staying calm when everything is on fire
- Team leadership and hospital administration
- Financial management
Every 2 AM emergency? Deposit.
Every difficult client conversation? Deposit.
Every judgment call with high stakes and no backup plan? Deposit.
Every heartbreaking euthanasia conversation? Deposit.
Every impossible budget meeting? Deposit.
I didn’t know I was building career capital. I thought I was just trying not to kill anyone’s pet and maybe, if I was lucky, get home before midnight occasionally.
Deposit #2: The Side Hustles (When Everyone Thought I’d Completely Lost My Mind)
The Mobile Large Animal Practice (2002–2007)
While working full-time, I started a mobile veterinary service—Veterinary Livestock Services. Peak year: $93,750 in revenue.
What I was depositing: running multiple operations, time management, and entrepreneurship from scratch.
The eBay Years (2007–2022)
In 2007, I started an e-commerce business, MT Global Ecommerce. Retail arbitrage—Nike sneakers, clothing, outlet finds, eBay and Amazon listings.
💡 “The eBay hustle everyone thought was a weird distraction? That was a 15-year MBA I didn’t know I was enrolled in.”
What I was depositing:
- Inventory management
- Margin analysis
- Operations under pressure
- Problem-solving when nobody’s coming to save you
Fast forward to 2024, and I realized: I’ve been training for this hospital director job since 2007 by selling sneakers on the internet.
The Cattle Farm (1993–Present)
Co-owner of a beef cattle operation for 30+ years.
Deposits: strategic thinking, systems management, and patience.
Deposit #3: Community College Teaching (Building Castles from Sand and Optimism)
In 2015, I left private practice to teach at Mountwest Community & Technical College in West Virginia—starting a veterinary technology program from scratch.
What I was depositing:
- Building from nothing
- Creativity under constraint
- Accreditation navigation
- Institutional persistence
The job that looked like a career step backward? It was actually training for resource-constrained leadership.
Deposit #4: Purdue (Learning to Speak Bureaucracy Fluently, and Also Some Light Self-Loathing)
In 2020, I moved to Purdue University as Director of Veterinary Nursing Programs. Managed 900+ students, $2.57 million budget, and 75% program growth.
Deposits:
- Navigating large institutions
- Coalition building
- Strategy execution
- Surviving endless meetings
Every slow process, every “let’s table this,” every hidden power structure learned—deposit.
Deposit #5: Iowa State (Where Everything Finally Clicks)
In November 2024, I became Executive Director of Hospital Operations at Iowa State’s Lloyd Veterinary Medical Center.
Now I oversee multi-specialty hospital operations, budgets, pricing, forecasting, and clinical teams.
And every weird deposit suddenly mattered.
Crisis management from private practice.
Inventory systems from eBay.
Margin analysis from side hustles.
Resourcefulness from community college teaching.
Bureaucracy fluency from Purdue.
My weird career wasn’t chaos—it was preparation for a job I didn’t know existed.
The Career Capital Audit: 5 Questions to Ask Yourself Right Now
- What skill have you learned in the last 6 months that wasn’t required by your job?
Those are deposits. - What problem have you solved that nobody asked you to solve?
The invisible work counts. Sometimes it counts the most. - What relationship have you built with no immediate ROI?
Those are deposits too. - What experience from a past job or side hustle are you using in unexpected ways now?
Look for weird crossovers—that’s where the gold hides. - What are you doing right now that seems “off track” but might be a deposit?
Don’t dismiss it. It might be your future leverage.
The Pattern Nobody Tells You About Non-Linear Careers
Your messy, non-linear career isn’t a bug. It’s a feature.
💡 “The deposits you make in the weird moments—the side hustles, the random projects, the things that make people ask if you’re having a midlife crisis—those often have the highest interest rates.”
You won’t see the balance for years. But one day, it’ll all click.
The Deposits You Don’t Know You’re Making Right Now
If I could go back and talk to 25-year-old Chad, I’d tell him:
Stop worrying about being “on track.”
There is no track.
The traditional advice—pick a lane, climb the ladder—works for some. But for others, the magic happens in the margins.
Say yes to the weird thing.
Take the job that doesn’t make sense.
Learn random skills.
Build relationships with no agenda.
Do things people question.
Because someday, opportunity will come looking for someone exactly like you—someone with your rare, messy, oddly specific mix of skills.
And that’s when you’ll realize: Oh. My weird career wasn’t a mess. It was preparation.
What You Should Do With This Information
If your career looks nothing like you planned—good. That might mean you’re building something interesting.
If people are confused about what you actually do—that might be a feature, not a flaw.
If your LinkedIn profile reads like three different people wrote it—you might be onto something.
If your answer to “so what do you do?” starts with “it’s complicated”—you’re probably making valuable deposits.
Stop chasing linear. Start banking.
Take the weird project.
Learn the random skill.
Say yes to the opportunity that doesn’t fit.
Build the relationship that serves no purpose.
Solve the problem that isn’t your job.
Do the thing people question.
You’re not off track. You’re building equity.
You’re banking career capital.
And someday, you’ll sit on a porch somewhere—maybe in Iowa—and realize:
Oh. That’s what I was building. That’s what all the weird stuff was for.
Holy shit, it actually worked.
Now I Want to Hear From You
What’s the weirdest deposit you’ve made in your career—the thing that seemed like a waste of time, a distraction, or a detour but turned out to be exactly what you needed?
The side hustle that confused people. The job that seemed like a step backward. The skill you learned for no good reason. The opportunity that made people ask, “Are you sure about this?”
Drop it in the comments below. I read every single one, and I want to hear your story.
Because here’s the truth: you’re probably building something valuable right now and don’t even know it yet.
And maybe—just maybe—sharing your weird deposit will help someone else realize their path isn’t wrong. It’s just different.
And different, it turns out, is where the magic happens.
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