I was a product of my environment. Growing up in the Bay Area meant technology wasn't just a career path—it was the default. Fresh out of college, I landed at Qualcomm's corporate ventures team, followed by years in semiconductors. After business school, I found myself doing product marketing for regulatory technology startups.
On paper, I had it all. A $200,000 salary with bonuses, full benefits, and stock options. Working with startups meant I could build teams from scratch and shape company narratives. I was making an impact, or at least that's what I told myself.
But beneath the surface, something felt off. When people asked what I did for a living, I found myself almost apologizing: "I do product marketing for regulatory technology startups." The words felt foreign in my mouth. I had created two versions of myself—the tech professional and the real me—accepting that this disconnect was just part of adult life.
The Turning Point
Everything shifted when I turned 30. The move from San Francisco to New York coincided with the onset of COVID-19, giving me unprecedented time for self-reflection. New York opened my eyes to a world beyond tech. While San Francisco showed me one version of entrepreneurship—all hoodies and pitch decks—New York revealed countless other possibilities.
My new home in Williamsburg became my inspiration. Walking past empty storefronts in 2021, I started dreaming. Not the vague, someday-maybe kind of dreaming, but the kind that plants seeds for real change.
The seeds had always been there. Hospitality ran in my blood—my Middle Eastern heritage meant I grew up watching my mother and grandmother transform gatherings into celebrations. I obsessed over the details that turned a space into an experience: the perfect glassware, the right music, lighting that set the mood. My stepdad had introduced me to wine early, teaching me to appreciate the artistry in every bottle of limited-production Pinot Noir.
Taking the Leap
Starting a wine bar during COVID might have seemed crazy, but the pandemic had taught me that life was too precious for "what-ifs." I approached my dream methodically, starting with a job at a Brooklyn wine bar in the summer of 2022. I pursued my Wine and Spirit Education Trust certification and worked at a wine shop, learning the business from the ground up.
My tech background proved surprisingly valuable. Team management, working with limited resources, juggling multiple responsibilities—these skills transferred perfectly to entrepreneurship. I networked relentlessly, collecting contacts for everything from contractors to plumbers.
Opening the doors in March 2024 felt like coming home. The bar quickly became woven into the neighborhood's fabric, with regulars visiting twice weekly and bringing their parents to share their discoveries. I kept reinvesting—first in the backyard, then the basement cellar, then hiring a general manager and expanding our wine selection.
The New Reality
The contrast with my tech life is stark. Gone are the health insurance and remote work flexibility. My radius has shrunk from global to local—I haven't ventured beyond 20 miles since Christmas. Twelve-hour days are the norm, and I work service every night.
But here's the thing: despite working longer hours than I ever did in tech, it doesn't feel like work. Every detail I fuss over, every wine I select, every conversation with regulars feels right. In less than a year, we've created something real, something meaningful.
I'm no longer speaking a foreign language. I'm finally fluent in my own story.