The year was 2010.
I was deep into my career as a banker, at the time doing trade settlements and reporting for one of Australia's largest finance firm.
I landed here after crashing burning at my last role,
working in investment banking operations for a Swiss bank, which at the time was ranked as one of the top four banks in the world, and it almost drove me insane.
Truth is, I actually didn't want to start my adult life working in banks.
As a matter of fact, I didn't even study finance, but instead I studied Real Estate [diploma in Property] which allowed me to be a registered and licensed real estate agent if I chose to be one, and be to honest, I was quite passionate about the property industry.
However, as destiny dictates, instead, I got thrown in the engine room of what (apparently) drives our world, investment banking.
For a moment in time, I would be lying if I said I didn't love the banking industry.
I mean, what more could a twenty one year old male ask for?
I had money, I was working in one of the worlds largest bank, and I was living above my means. (as you do when you're young and none the wiser)
Was I passionate about banking? Sure I was!
After all, it was my chosen career at the time, and boy did I work my ass off to earn my keep.
Back then, my cousin came to Sydney all the way from Chicago, taking a gap year to get away from the daily grind and focus on his passions.
..and my uncle, a World War Two veteran (and the man who raised me) was in hospital.
I promised myself to spend more time with him as much as I could, especially towards the end of his life, as it was.
Then, in the winter of 2009, my world came crashing down.
I had hit the sixth year of being in banking and I became absolutely burned out.
I was busy all the time for no important reason, and I also had enough of the office so I quit my job,
..just in time to receive a phone call informing me that my uncle has passed.
I was furious.
With further heartache,
I look back and realize I didn't dedicate enough time for my cousin. I really could've taken him places around Australia, but I didn't, because I was busy. The same goes with my uncle, I barely had enough time for him, and now he's gone forever, all because I was too busy working and didn't realize what was truely important in life - friendship and family.
It was hard to process, all this loss and regret, so I did what most people do and self destruct.
The recipe for my self destruction consisted of:
Quitting my job,
obtaining an empty commercial premise,
emptying out my bank account,
and sporting a 'nothing to lose' mindset.
I bought a hammer and a set of construction tools, dismantled all of the furniture and fittings, bought gallons of paint and went to town with it.
To fuel my motivation and inspiration, I setup a sound system and played my cousins mixtapes, I put a photograph of my late uncle up, and wheeled my motorcycle inside.
When I felt like a needed a break, I'd drive to the sea to remember my Uncle, look out towards the horizon and just cry.
I cried a lot during that period.
I remember being on top of a ladder, painting the ceiling, crying at the same time.
Wiping my tears with dirty rags that stung my eye, I cried even more.
Everything I did ended in tears, quite literally.
I was emotionally fragile, I was sleep deprived, combined with being intoxicated by paint thinner and all sorts of construction chemicals, I was just a big ball of mess.
However, a few people recognized that there was something going on, and instead of interrogating me, they helped me out.
Some pooled their money together and brought me restaurant furniture, some pulled up the floor boards and installed plumbing and electricity. They gave me a brand new glass door, a commercial oven, al fresco dining set, coffee supplies ...and the list goes on.
I didn't create Duke's Lounge.
It was always there, waiting to materialize,
waiting for my uncle on his death bed to tell me;
"Do what you love, and do it well."
I also learnt that family doesn't have to be blood related.
Forever grateful.
