The Partner Designate Role I Quit After 2.5 Weeks (And Why I Had No Idea What Came Next)

A Mid-week Surprise. It was a Wednesday. 4:30 in the afternoon. I walked into the partner’s office and told him I had to finish up. He glanced at his watch, a bit surprised—it was early to be leaving—but nodded.

“No,” I said. “I mean, I have to finish up. I’m done. I have to leave. I’m leaving the firm.”

The colour drained from his face.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

I looked at him and said the only true thing I knew: “The only thing I know is this isn’t it.”

I was 28 years old. I’d been working in the firm and on this partner designate pathway for exactly 2.5 weeks.

Following the Path

I’d spent years training to be an accountant. Passed my exams. Done my time. Followed the path everyone said you’re supposed to follow.

Get qualified. Join a good firm. Make partner. Build security.

This partnership designate role was supposed to be the arrival. The thing you work toward. The validation that I’d done it right. I had gotten 2 or 3 offers. All were direct routes to partnership. I chose this firm because it just felt right.

And from the outside, it was perfect. Good firm. Good people. Good opportunity.

But from the moment I sat in that chair on my first morning, something felt wrong.

Not wrong like “this is hard” or “I need to adjust.” Wrong, like wearing someone else’s clothes or someone else’s shoes. It just didn’t fit. Wrong, like trying to speak a language you don’t actually know.

Every morning I drove to the office, I had this sensation in my chest, like something was squeezing tighter and tighter.

I kept telling myself: “You’re just settling in. Give it time. You worked for this.”

But the voice got louder. Not angry. Not dramatic. Just persistent.

This isn’t it.

THE TURNING POINT

That Wednesday, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I don’t know what specifically triggered it. There wasn’t one moment. It was more like the volume had been turning up gradually, and suddenly I could hear nothing else.

I walked into his office without a plan. Without a script. Without knowing what I’d say until I said it.

When he asked what I was going to do, I genuinely didn’t know.

I didn’t have another job lined up. I didn’t have a business plan. I didn’t have clarity about what came next.

All I had was this bone-deep knowing that if I stayed one more day, one more week, one more month,I’d be building someone else’s dream instead of my own.

Even if I had no idea what my own dream looked like yet.

What Next?

The next day, I was at home. Just me and the dog at the desk in my bedroom. No office to go to. No meetings. No clients expecting me.

Just me and a blank page.

And something happened that I didn’t expect: clarity started to arrive.

Not in one lightning bolt moment. But in pieces. In conversations with myself. In scribbled notes.

Within 24 hours, I had a name: OmniPro.

I had a vision: what if accountants could actually build practices they loved? What if I could help firm owners build accounting businesses that would get them the results and the outcomes they were really looking for? What if I could optimise the profession?

I had a mission: I was going to figure this out and help other accountants do the same.

None of that existed when I walked into his office on that fateful Wednesday that was my last ever day of employment.

It showed up after I left. Not before.

The Decision

Here’s what took me years to understand about that moment:

I spent so much time afterwards trying to make sense of it. Trying to justify it. Trying to explain it rationally to people who asked, “Why did you leave?”

But the truth is simpler and more uncomfortable than I wanted to admit.

I didn’t leave because I had a better plan. I left because I trusted a knowing I couldn’t explain.

Our entire culture is built on the opposite principle: figure it out first, then move.

Have the plan. Have the certainty. Have the next step mapped out.

And if you can’t articulate exactly why you’re leaving and exactly where you’re going, you’re being reckless. Irresponsible. Foolish.

But that’s not how transformation works. Not real transformation.

Real transformation requires leaving before you can see where you’re going.

Real transformation requires making a decision – cutting off other options. Burning your boats and committing.

The clarity doesn’t come before you leap. It only comes after.

Clarity follows courage, not the other way around.

That 2.5-week partner designate position taught me something I’d need to remember over and over for the next 21 years:

Sometimes the most important thing you can know is what isn’t right for you—even when you have no idea what is.

I decided it just wasn’t right, even though I was taking a leap into the unknown.

The Lesson

If you’re running an accounting firm, you know this feeling.

Maybe it’s not a partnership. Maybe it’s:

• A client relationship that’s been wrong for years
• A team member who just feels off
• A service offering you’ve outgrown but keep providing
• A business model that worked once but doesn’t anymore
• A way of working that’s slowly killing you

You know in your gut it’s not right. But you stay because you don’t have the next thing figured out yet.

Here’s what I’d ask you:

What’s the cost of staying until you have perfect clarity?

Because here’s what I’ve learned: that clarity almost never comes while you’re still in the thing.

You have to create the space first. You have to leave the wrong thing. And then,only then, does the right thing have room to emerge.

This connects directly to Strategy in the ProfitPro 6-Step Success Path. Because strategy isn’t just about what you’re moving toward. It’s about what you’re willing to leave behind.

The questions you should be asking yourself:

• What am I doing out of habit or obligation rather than choice?
• If I were starting today, would I build this the same way?
• What would I do differently if I weren’t trying to justify past decisions?
• What’s the thing I know isn’t right but I’m tolerating anyway?

And the hardest question of all: What would I need to believe about myself to trust that I’ll figure out what’s next?

Because that’s what leaving after 2.5 weeks required: trusting that I’d figure it out. Not knowing. Not being certain. Trusting.

You have permission to leave something before you can see what comes next.

You have permission to know something isn’t right even when you can’t fully articulate why.

You have permission to trust yourself.

THE INVITATION

Your Turn:

What’s your “this isn’t it” moment?

What’s the thing you know in your gut isn’t right for you, but you’re staying because you haven’t figured out what’s next?

Maybe it’s a partnership. A team member. A client relationship. A business model. A supplier. A role you’re playing. A way you’re working.

Here’s what I learned: The clarity doesn’t come before you leave. It comes after.

Clarity follows courage, not the other way around.

I’m curious: Have you ever left something without knowing what came next? What happened? What did you discover on the other side?

Or are you in it right now—knowing something isn’t right but waiting for clarity before you move?

Let me know what is just not fitting right. Sometimes saying it out loud is the first step.

Tomorrow: Letter 2/21 – “The Partnership That Should Have Ended in Year 1 (And What It Cost Me to Wait 16 Years)”