From the forests of Vancouver to Wall Street

My path to Wall Street didn't start in a business school lecture hall or on a trading floor. It started deep in the woods, studying trees. Not exactly the standard route to Goldman Sachs.

I majored in Forestry and Biology. Minored in Geology and did my undergrad research in marine sciences. I grew up in Arkansas and was hundreds of miles away from investment banks, trading platforms, or even the idea of a career in finance.

After college, I worked in a sales job at an adtech company in Little Rock. It had nothing to do with finance, but it taught me how to sell. Products. Ideas. Myself. That mindset shift planted the first real seed of what would come next.

A few years in, I got bit by the startup bug when I spotted a gap in the e-commerce market. Small online Shopify retailers needed a better way to create mobile app experiences. So I did something kind of crazy—I quit my job, drained my savings, and moved back in with my parents to try and build a mobile app development platform out of my childhood bedroom.

I knew absolutely nothing about building software, product management, or startups. So I taught myself. I Googled everything. I learned just enough technical basics to work with developers and somehow get our first product built. That startup taught me more about building, shipping, and customer obsession than any MBA program ever could.

I didn't know what product management was at the time, but I was doing it—building apps, talking to users, solving problems, and shipping software. That startup became my crash course into product management.

The morning of my first day, I woke up early, put on my only suit and pair of shoes (the only ones that fit in my suitcase), and took the R train down to the Financial District. I got a little lost along the way but eventually arrived at the towering Goldman Sachs building.

Walking through the lobby, I felt a wave of apprehension as I observed hundreds of employees scanning their badges on their way to their desks. When I approached the security guard, he directed me to a small door behind the counter to get my employee badge. After taking my cheesy photo, I waited on a bench, watching others walk by, all well-dressed with bags from prestigious universities like Yale, Princeton, and Harvard. I remember thinking to myself, "How the heck did I get here? Do I belong?"

Then, a voice snapped me out of my thoughts—it was the woman at the front desk, calling me to pick up my badge. As I glanced at it, I saw my name and picture. I walked back over to the guard and handed him my badge. He looked down, then back up at me and greeted me warmly, saying, "Good morning, Mr. Howe. Welcome to Goldman Sachs."

That simple welcome was something I will never forget. Despite coming from a small town in Arkansas, I had somehow made it to one of the most prestigious firms in the world.

Looking back… none of this should've happened. But it did.

Because I was willing to say yes to things I didn't yet fully understand. I was willing to feel out of place. To build something before I felt ready. And to trust that I could figure it out along the way.

If your path doesn't look traditional, or if you're trying to pivot into something that feels way out of reach, know that it can happen. Your background isn't your limitation. It might just be your edge.

Through it all, I've learned that life rarely follows a script. The detours are the story. And I'm incredibly grateful for every one of them.