Saying no is an essential skill that everyone should cultivate. We often face pressures to satisfy others, uphold certain images, or meet our own expectations. However, the ability to decline when necessary is crucial for success both personally and professionally.

Recently, I reflected on a story I wrote about the power of saying yes, detailing how two simple agreements at SIU’s Union School led to a high-paying job on a ship. This narrative demonstrated how embracing opportunities can significantly alter our life paths.

The response to my story was encouraging, but it also highlighted a critical point: the importance of knowing when to say no. I owe my gratitude to James Bellerjeau and Mary Ingram for their insightful feedback.

Accepting seemingly harmless opportunities can be beneficial, but recognizing the right moments to decline is equally vital.

Three pivotal moments when I said "No" reshaped my life:

The first instance connects back to my initial Medium post titled “A Blue Day at Stone Barn.” For those interested, it's a candid journal entry from years ago about my working interview at the esteemed Blue Hill at Stone Barn restaurant. If you venture to read it, be prepared for a lengthy narrative reflecting my growth as a writer.

The essence of that story is simple: I participated in a "Stage" (pronounced with a soft “g,” a French term for unpaid work) at Blue Hill. I dedicated 14 hours there, faced harsh treatment from several chefs, and felt belittled by Dan Barber himself. Eventually, I was presented with a month-long opportunity to continue.

Blue Hill at Stone Barn is renowned globally, featured in the first season of Chef’s Table on Netflix, and epitomizes the farm-to-table movement. My passion for cooking led me to this moment, where I stood at the pinnacle of what I thought was culinary success.

Throughout culinary school, I became aware of the industry's flaws: low wages, poor work-life balance, widespread substance abuse, and a toxic work environment. After 15 years in the field, I recognized that my prestigious education had led me to a dead end, surrounded by broken individuals feeding their egos.

Even owning a restaurant seemed problematic, as costs rise while customers resist price hikes, forcing labor expenses to remain unlivable.

If you cannot provide a living wage, your business is destined to fail.

This sentiment applies to major corporations as well.

All I could perceive was dysfunction. Here I was at a place synonymous with sustainability, yet all I saw was the exploitation of free labor. The decision to accept that internship weighed heavily on me. Would this propel my career forward? I would never find out because I chose to say,

No.

The second instance of saying no occurred shortly thereafter and was more challenging. While job hunting, one opportunity stands out as a lingering "what if?"

As a child, I loved reruns of "Wings" on Nick at Nite, fascinated by the show and its airplane-centric theme. Fast forward two decades, and I found myself on a ferry to Nantucket, armed only with my knife set and a change of clothes.

Nantucket's harbor is breathtaking, with its historic blue cedar homes lining the windswept island—a true American gem. Stepping off the ferry, I landed on ballast stones from old whaling vessels, walking streets that felt lost in time.

On the pier, I was warmly welcomed by a kind restaurateur who led me to Fog Island Cafe, where I experienced a laid-back workday and was offered an excellent job with great pay, health benefits, and even free accommodation.

The chef I worked with had just purchased a home on the island, indicating how well he treated his staff. However, my heart had other aspirations. By this time, I was contemplating joining a seafarers union, torn between leaving the restaurant world and the allure it held.

Or perhaps fate had greater plans for me in the South Pacific.

Had I accepted that job, I wouldn't have met my wife in Saipan a year later. When I expressed my hesitations about the job offer, the owner sweetened the deal, even offering me land to start my own farm-to-table venture. Still, I said,

No.

The most significant no of my life came later. It was a moment that presented two paths—one leading to the unknown and the other to my current life.

In October 2018, I met my wife in Saipan. Eager to reunite, we quickly arranged to meet in Hong Kong, where she would introduce me to China.

Initially, our time together was rocky. As a carefree American sailor, I clashed with her traditional yet modern Chinese values, leading to inevitable cultural shocks.

A critical moment arose at the ferry pier in Hong Kong, where we nearly agreed to part ways due to our perceived differences. After an emotional discussion, we decided to walk together toward the ferry instead of apart.

Crossing the harbor hand-in-hand transformed our day, and I realized that had we said yes to separation, our lives would have taken a drastically different turn. Saying no to splitting up changed everything for me.

These three pivotal moments of saying no in situations tempting me to agree had a profound impact on my life. Had I chosen differently, my journey would have been unrecognizably altered. I look at my wife and son today, grateful for the decisions that led me here.

What I am reading:

Mary Ingram shares an insightful story on recognizing patterns and their effects on our lives. Check it out here:

<h2>Recognizing A Pattern</h2>

<h3>The first step in solving a problem</h3>

<p>medium.com</p>

For another perspective on how success requires the word no, read James Bellerjeau's piece:

<h2>Can You Be Too Good at Your Job?</h2>

<h3>Your colleagues will, by inaction, invite you to do some of their work on top of the load you are already carrying</h3>

<p>medium.com</p>