The Collector

In high school my whole plan was basically "get rich or die trying," which, looking back, is a pretty thin thing to build a personality on. Somewhere between a Sotheby's floor full of game-worn jerseys and a stack of vinyl I've been adding to since I could afford my own records, that plan quietly fell apart and something better replaced it. I got grateful for stuff that has nothing to do with money. I try to remember that every day, honestly, and thank God I'm even in a position to have that realization.

What stuck around is where I go looking for meaning: in ordinary things, usually. A beat-up pair of shoes. A song's key change landing right before the chorus. The way a striker times a run so it looks effortless. A film that clearly stole its color palette from a country the director's never set foot in. I like finding the story inside stuff other people walk past. That's the actual connective tissue between advertising class, cataloging auction lots, and this website — not some grand career plan, just that same habit showing up in different rooms.

This fall I'm joining Sotheby's in Manhattan as an Associate in the Luxury department, after interning in Sports & Modern Collectibles the summer before. Past that, I genuinely don't have a five-year plan taped to a wall somewhere, and I'm fine saying that out loud. I care more about actually liking the room I walk into every morning than whatever title is supposedly next. That's not me being aimless — it's a real decision, and it's the one I trust most out of everything on this page.

Where I'm headed

I'd like to end up leading something — a team, a company, whatever shape that takes — and along the way I want to hand people the same kind of help I've gotten from others. That's really the point underneath all of it. Not just getting somewhere impressive, but making the climb a little easier for whoever's coming up behind me.

What I actually value

If you asked me for ten values on the spot I'd probably stall out around seven, so here's the honest list, no padding:

The people who actually know me tend to land on the same few words: curious, driven, empathetic, genuine. Curious enough to find something worth telling in almost anything. Driven enough to actually go after it once I find it. Empathetic because my family and friends — and whether I'm making them proud — still matter to me more than any job title ever will. Genuine because I'd rather be liked for who I actually am than for some version of myself I put on for the room.

"Not walking into the office already hating it." That's basically my whole definition of success right now.

On competition

I don't really think about it in adversarial terms, if I'm honest. Sure, technically everyone around me in a classroom or an office is "competition," but I've never found that framing useful. I'd rather treat people as equals, all of us reaching for our own version of the same thing. What I bring instead of some competitive edge is that I actually care about the story behind the object, the person, the deal — not just the transaction itself. People tend to remember that more than anything else.

Three words

The Collector. The Storyteller. The Believer.

The Collector — records, sneakers, stories, whatever it is, if it means something I hold onto it and take care of it. The Storyteller — I can't look at a shoe, a song, or a soccer match without wondering what it's actually about underneath. The Believer — in faith, in the people around me, and in the idea that things tend to work out for people who stay grateful and keep showing up.