From the Army to Wall Street — and Now, Your Corner
When people come to me, they usually think they’ve nailed their story. They’ve practiced it, polished it, maybe even told it a hundred times. But as they say it, you can feel it- it’s not them. It’s the version they think they’re supposed to be. Stiff. Sanitized. Safe. And because of that, they’re applying to the wrong roles, showing up awkward in interviews, and wondering why none of it’s landing. That disconnect eats away at their confidence.
And most of these people? They’re already in a vulnerable spot; switching careers, changing industries, re-entering the workforce. They’re second-guessing themselves before they’ve even said hello. Imposter syndrome is loud. They think they haven’t done enough. That even if they told the truth, no one would be impressed.
I call bullshit.
Because what I’ve seen, over and over, is the moment someone says something real- something that actually matters to them- everything changes. Not just how they tell their story, but how they see it. That’s why some people have cried in these sessions. It’s not just about getting a job. It’s about finally seeing your own work clearly- sometimes for the first time. And I get it. I’ve been there. I’ve felt that same gut-punch of wondering if what I did even mattered.
That’s why I care about this work.
I started The Second Room Theory because I’ve lived every twist of this path. I’ve led troops in combat zones, driven corporate strategy at Morgan Stanley, and navigated supply chain strategies for national retailers. At every turn, I had to reinvent myself. And each time, I learned the same lesson: when you can communicate with clarity, confidence, and emotion- you win.
But that lesson didn’t come easy.
When I left the Army, I could brief any mission, organize chaos, and break down complex plans. But I couldn’t tell my own story in a way that landed. My first interviews were technically perfect- and completely forgettable. I sounded more like a slide deck than a human.
It wasn’t just me. A few of us, junior officers all getting out at the same time, started comparing notes. These weren’t just colleagues; they were my best friends, the people I’d deployed to Afghanistan with. We weren’t building a program, we were just trying to help each other survive the transition. We met weekly, swapped what worked, called each other out when it didn’t.
Then came Hiring Our Heroes. A crash course in real interviews- dozens of them. I bombed the first ten. Too polished. Too rigid. Too rehearsed. Then I loosened up. Started telling stories that were actually mine (because some people in my life convinced me they were worth telling). And everything changed. I landed offers, a lot of offers, more than I expected. But more importantly, I finally understood why.
When I made it into a great company, all I wanted to do was share what I’d learned with those same friends I’d been in the military with. No business plan, no branding, just friends helping friends not make the same mistakes.
It took a few years, but eventually I formalized my notes, built templates, created a structure. That grew into a four-session program, not built on theory, but on reps, real feedback, and actual wins.
In each session, we focus on one thing: getting to the heart of your story and learning how to deliver it.
We start with your resume and LinkedIn, not to make them look pretty, but to strip away the fluff and get to what actually matters. We dig into your themes, craft a pitch that sounds like you, then move into live work: top behavioral questions, interview drills, emotional clarity, and a response framework that holds up under pressure. By the final session, you’re not just prepared, you’ve already practiced showing up with control.
I don’t do scripts. I don’t do fluff. I give feedback that’s direct and immediate, because confidence doesn’t come from compliments, it comes from reps.
If you want a process that’s honest, human, and built to work- I’ve got you. Because I’ve been where you are. And I give a damn about getting you where you want to go.