Before I get a flood of messages correcting me, yes, I know “entrepreneurment” isn’t a word.
It should be entrepreneurship… but that’s a lot of syllables, and honestly, entrepreneurment just feels better.
So I’m going with it.
Today is my last day of “unemployment.”
That does not mean I’m getting paid.
Yet.
I’ve hinted over the past few days that I’ve been working with a friend on a startup idea. Today, we leaned all the way in.
We spent a couple hours this morning putting structure around the plan, aligning on direction, and figuring out how we actually move forward. There’s still a lot to do, and I’ll share more when I can, but the short version is this:
We’re building something we believe can help a lot of companies.
Locally to start. Potentially much broader than that over time.
The goal is to get to something sustainable, ideally profitable, within the year.
If that happens, this brief and unexpected chapter of “unemployment” will have done something I never really planned for.
I’ve already had friends offer to help, volunteer, or just say “keep me in mind.”
And I will.
For now, it’s just David and I building.
But if everything goes perfectly according to plan, we’ll soon be a global technology unicorn with offices around the world, absurd profitability, and a jet-setting lifestyle that would make lesser monarchs jealous.
Realistically, I would happily settle for a stable, profitable business that lets me build interesting things and not worry about performance reviews.
This is, of course, a risk.
There is a very real possibility that we don’t get the product where we want it, or that we don’t find the clients we hope for. I don’t expect that outcome, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t possible.
That said, I’ve mentioned this before:
Worst case, I learn a lot.
And I have a strong suspicion that “a lot” is an understatement.
One of the things I’m most looking forward to is the flexibility.
I fully expect to bury my head in APIs, GIS, application development, cloud infrastructure, AI integrations, and the general chaos of building a business over the next few months.
But for the first time in a long time, nobody gets to tell me when I have to be working.
If I want to work late into the evening, I can.
If I want to take the kids to soccer, dance, art, or just walk them to school, I can do that too.
After the last couple of years, that trade feels pretty good.
On another front, I’ve been informed that a team of five people successfully disassembled my foosball table.
Five.
I both appreciate the teamwork and am slightly concerned about the complexity of my own furniture.
To everyone who helped move my things, thank you. I really do appreciate it.
And I mean this genuinely:
You are always on my team.
Whether we worked together in elementary school, university, at Cenovus, or just crossed paths along the way… if we’ve built a connection, that doesn’t go away.
I also want to say thank you.
To everyone who has read this, reached out, shared kind words, or just followed along quietly.
This past month has been… unexpected.
I never imagined I would be writing daily reflections about being laid off. I always assumed that working hard, putting in long hours, and delivering results would be enough to ensure stability.
It turns out that’s not always how it works.
What I didn’t expect was how many people would reach out.
The messages, the support, the encouragement… it has meant more than I can really put into words.
It has helped quiet that voice that says I’m not good enough.
And I promise I will try to do the same for others whenever I can.
If this blog has done anything, I hope it has helped make this kind of situation feel a little less scary.
Being laid off isn’t something anyone looks forward to.
But it’s also not the end of the story. It’s just the start of a different one.
If I can leave you with one thing, it would be this:
Surround yourself with people who care about you.
Tell them what you appreciate about them.
Be someone who supports, not someone who tears down.
In the end, that’s what matters.
That’s what lasts.
With hope,
Goodnight
Brett Wiens 