The Decision to Become a Gallerist (Part 1)

My friend in Paris, Nicolas, asked:  "how did you decide to go to this career, was it something you wanted to do since this year or is it new?"  Well, I can tell you it was not a long time dream, but rather it snuck up on me.  


For the whole story, I must go back to the time I was laid off a year ago.  The timing was great -- my job at YouTube had changed so much in the 18 months I was there, that I had been looking for something new.  The day in March that I learned I was receiving a huge tax refund this year, I planned to quit to join an early-stage startup with some friends.  Instead, when I tried to quit Google, I was told "wait a day, I can't tell you why.  Just wait.  Two days at the most!"  


It didn't take me long to figure out that lay-offs were coming and I was on the list, which was fine -- I was trying to quit!  Instead, I got a 5-month severance package.  Combined with the tax refund, I was well set.  I spent a month helping out at the start-up before we mutually realized my heart wasn't in it and we parted ways amicably. 


At that point, I decided to take a year off.  A sabbatical, so to speak.  But people started asking me what I would do at the end of the sabbatical?  I didn't really want to go back to high tech, but I had no other answer.  My friends would ask "What do you want to do? What's your passion?"  My answer to both questions was "I don't know."


I bought a copy of What Color Is Your Parachute? but it didn't really grab me.  Google's outplacement service offered two 30-minute career counseling sessions and a half-day workshop.  Nothing helpful.  So, I hired a psychotherapist to help me "discover my passion," my lack of which disturbed me a bit.  Shouldn't everyone know their passion?!?


I started questioning everyone I met about their jobs -- how they got there, what they do, and  how they like it -- wondering if I could do their job.  On vacation in Kaui a month later, I thought about all the mainlanders who had moved there to teach surfing, run a fish taco stand, and the pilots who fly tourists around the islands.  Spent time talking to medical marijuana growers in Napa, apparently a very lucrative profession.  But they're just glorified farmers, and I'm not the farming type.  Nothing seemed to suit me, although the idea of retiring to the beach seemed awfully nice at the time.


A couple months later, I had a chance to buy a famous, but troubled, bar/nightclub in San Francisco.  The price was way too high and the seller wasn't willing to come down in price, but I did analyze the books, read-up on how to run a bar, and think seriously about becoming a bar owner.  In the end, however, my husband, Jordan, and I decided that wasn't the lifestyle we wanted.  You have to be there every night and managing the staff can be a real headache.  


Next Jordan found an 1896 Victorian fire house for sale in San Francisco.  We had been thinking about downsizing from our current Victorian pile, so this would have fit the bill.  But the catch was that the owners insisted on selling their business with the building; that business being driving tourists around San Francisco in an antique fire truck.  Again, I examined the books, and thought about actually doing this every day.  But I decided it was too much like retiring, even though they were bringing in over $200k per year after expenses, and could bring in more if they did four tours a day instead of 3, and expanded into the shoulder season.


About 6 months into my sabbatical, a friend with an art gallery told me she needed some help.  I told her I had some free time and would be happy to help her out as a friend.  This meant pouring wine at an opening, dropping off post cards at a restaurant with her art on the wall, and minor things like that.  But it was the beginning of the path to becoming a gallerist.  


More on that in Part 2.