I'm Kevin (call me KG). Before sales, I worked hourly in the trades. In 2017 I moved into a sales role, and my first real commission paycheck floored me.

I thought that was the fix. I'd built up just under $100,000 in debt (credit cards, a line of credit, student loans), and I told myself more income would take care of it.

It did the opposite. The bigger paycheck came with bigger spending. Small purchases piled up. Nothing felt like a decision anymore. I wanted it, I bought it, no pause in between. I knew something was off, so I stopped looking at my accounts and kept promising myself I'd fix it next paycheck.

I didn't get serious until the end of 2019, and in 2020 I built my first real spreadsheet. What got me moving wasn't shame. It was the math. All that spending I never noticed was a vacation I was giving up for nothing.

In August 2023, I paid off the full $100,000, a year ahead of schedule. Today my wife and I take one trip a year with no credit card hangover.

You may not be carrying anywhere near that much debt. Maybe you just got the raise, the promotion, or the commission job, and something feels off. I wish someone had grabbed me in 2017. That's who I coach.

I don't have a finance degree, and that's the point. I'm not teaching theory. I'm giving you the system that worked for me, built for someone whose income moved faster than their habits.

My First Memory of Money

My first memory of money is one I still laugh about — but at the time, it was pure embarrassment.

I was about six years old. My elementary school had a small, student-run snack bar that opened during recess. I never bought anything because I never had money. My parents believed in the classic rule: “We have food at home.”

One day, I watched a friend buy a snack and receive some change back. I didn’t know what change was — I just knew it was hers. So I asked if I could have some money to buy something too.

She smiled and handed me a coin.

“You can buy anything with this,” she said.

I was floored. Anything?!

I lined up at the snack bar, imagining all the possibilities. When it was my turn, I confidently ordered a sour key, a bag of chips, and a slushy. The cashier told me the total.

I handed over the coin.

She laughed and said, “You can’t buy anything with this.”

I walked away confused and defeated — holding a penny.

A penny they don’t even make anymore.

That was my first lesson with money: confusion and embarrassment.

My First Job (And Feeling “Rich” for the First Time)

I got my first job at 14 or 15 years old, flipping burgers at McDonald’s. I didn’t want financial freedom — I wanted a cell phone.

My mom told me, “You can have one when you pay for it yourself.”

That was all the motivation I needed.

I made $7.20 an hour. Some shifts were only three hours long, but I remember doing the math in my head:

$7.20 × 3 = $21.60.

I thought I’d be rich in no time.

My first paycheck was just under $300, and I felt like a king. I bought my friends lunch. I bought knockoff silver chains. Every two weeks, I’d get paid — and by the first weekend, I had $0 left.

I wasn’t irresponsible. I was unaware.

My First Debt (And How It Snowballed)

My first real debt started with my first credit card.

The bank teller told me I was “pre-approved” for $1,500. That phrase made me feel special. Trusted. Grown.

My first purchase? A $300 iPod Video. I showed it off to everyone.

When the first bill came, the only thing I noticed was the minimum payment. I thought, “Why pay it all when I can just pay the minimum and be fine?”

That mindset followed me for years.

It got worse when I went engagement ring shopping. I didn’t have enough room on my credit card, so the salesperson suggested opening a line of credit to pay off the card — at a lower interest rate.

It sounded smart. Logical.

What I didn’t realize was that I had just unlocked a new bad habit.

The Debt I Couldn’t Ignore

Over time, between credit cards, a line of credit, student loans, and other monthly commitments, I had accumulated just under $100,000 in debt.

I was stressed. Ashamed. Embarrassed.

I kept living as if one day I’d magically make more money and everything would fix itself. I told myself I’d start once things were perfect.

That day never came.

The Turning Point

In mid-2020, something shifted.

Because of the pandemic, two things changed:

I stopped commuting, saving about $600 a month

I stopped buying food on the road

One day I asked myself a simple question:

“If I put this extra $800 toward my debt… how long would it take to be debt-free?”

That question changed everything.

The Debt-Free Journey

I was overwhelmed at first. Where do you even start?

I reached out to a friend who loved spreadsheets and math. After one conversation, I built a simple spreadsheet to track my spending and figure out how much I could realistically live on.

The math said I’d be debt-free by September 2024.

That felt far away — but I committed.

Every extra dollar went toward the debt. Every windfall. Every bonus.

And in August 2023, I paid off $100,000 in debt — one year earlier than planned.

Life After Debt

Paying off debt didn’t make me reckless — it made me intentional.

Instead of immediately spending the extra money, I planned:

Investments

Travel

Home improvements

Long-term goals

Today, my wife and I plan one meaningful trip each year — without stress, guilt, or credit card hangovers.

For years, our vacations followed the same cycle:

Save a little

Put the rest on credit cards

Enjoy the trip halfway

Come home stressed and deeper in debt

That cycle is gone.

Why I Coach Now

I’m not highly educated.

I don’t have the highest-paying job.

I didn’t inherit money.

What I had was structure, guidance, and a willingness to look in the mirror.

That’s why I coach.

I help people who earn decent money but feel stuck build clarity, direction, and a system they can actually stick to — without shame or overwhelm.

There will never be a perfect time to start.

No rich uncle is coming.

And waiting only makes things harder.

Everything feels impossible until you do it.

I’m living proof of that.