Two weeks ago, I landed in Las Vegas with a laptop full of mixes I was determined to finish.
Two weeks later, I left Vegas without a job.
The music didn’t get mixed.
The jam footage never left the SD cards.
Life took over.
It all got real quick.
Week One
During the first week of the trip, it was announced that our Group CEO’s contract would not be renewed.
No dramatic speech. No long farewell arc. Just a clean corporate shift.
If you’ve worked in SaaS long enough, you know what that means.
Strategy resets.
Narrative changes.
Priorities realign.
My boss was the President of the U.S., and over the last four years, more than that, he became one of my closest friends. We traveled the world together. Built teams. Fought for accounts. Navigated hard quarters and big wins.
I was #2 in North America.
All the customers.
All the sales and the key accounts.
That was my world.
But when leadership changes in SaaS, philosophy often changes with it.
And this one did.
From Sales-Led to “If You Build It”
There was a shift underway.
From sales- and marketing-driven growth…
to operational optimization.
From “go win accounts.”
to “if you build it, they will come.”
That’s a real mindset in the SaaS world.
Less outbound energy.
More product-first confidence.
More systems.
Less field pressure.
It’s not wrong.
It’s just different.
But when you’re the sales engine, when your job is relationships, growth, acquisition, partnerships, and the organization tilts toward operational belief over commercial push…
You can feel the ground move.
The Group CEO was cut.
The President of the U.S. was cut.
I was cut.
Not because of effort.
Not because of numbers.
Because philosophy changed.
And when philosophy changes, structure follows.
The Parking Deck at the Palms
There were a few nights that I’d walk up to the third level of the parking deck at the Palms to hide.
I didn’t have a car there. I just needed quiet. Distance. A place where the casino noise couldn’t follow me. When the floor got too loud, lights, slots, manufactured excitement, I’d slip away and head up the ramp.
Up there, it was quiet.
You could see the Strip stretched out in the distance, glowing, pulsing, pretending permanence. Vegas sells the illusion that momentum never stops. That the lights don’t go out. That winners stay winners.
And above me, in that same building, was the suite where Michael Jackson had stayed. Where Lady Gaga and other artists recorded.
Up there? Legacy. Headlines. Platinum records.
Down here? A sales executive realizing alignment had shifted.
Vegas makes everything feel larger than life.
Corporate reality makes everything feel replaceable.
One week, you’re leading North America growth conversations, carrying revenue, stewarding relationships you built over the years.
Next, the philosophy changes. The structure resets. The org chart redraws itself.
And suddenly you’re not in it.
That contrast hit hard.
Sitting on that concrete ledge, looking out at the skyline, I didn’t feel like I had failed.
I felt small.
Not insignificant, just aware.
Aware of how quickly things move.
Aware of how little control we really have once alignment shifts.
It humbles you.
Why the Music Stayed Quiet
I brought the laptop to mix.
We had that jam before I left. Cameras around the room. Captured something honest. I had real plans, content for this blog, clips for social, maybe finally starting a YouTube channel documenting what it looks like to build music in your 40s and 50s.
But after that first week?
Opening Logic felt trivial.
Not because the music doesn’t matter.
But because survival math got loud.
When leadership falls like dominoes, and your boss, your friend, is suddenly on the outside.
And your own role evaporates…
You don’t tweak snare compression.
You think about stability.
Kids heading to college.
One graduating from SFX makeup school and staring at her own “what’s next.”
Mortgage. Debt. Retirement not so far away anymore.
Being a hobby musician is beautiful until real life tightens the frame.
Then it can feel indulgent.
Builder Mode vs. Philosophy Shifts
I’ve lived in builder mode most of my career.
Start it.
Scale it.
Push it.
Grow it.
Sales is builder energy.
Operational SaaS thinking says something different:
Refine it.
Optimize it.
Automate it.
Let the system work.
Neither is wrong.
But when an organization chooses system over seller, the builder roles get thinner.
Sometimes, they disappear.
That doesn’t mean you failed.
It means the tide changed.
Going Home
As the plane climbs, Vegas shrinks into glowing amber dots on the ground.
From up here, it looks peaceful. Controlled. Almost small.
Down there, it was anything but.
I’m exhausted.
Not just from the meetings or the conversations or the announcement that changed everything.
Exhausted from the emotion of it all.
Two weeks of adrenaline, alcohol, tobacco, food, late nights, noise, and constant stimulation. Las Vegas is relentless. It never really lets you sit with your thoughts unless you go find a place to hide.
And now, somewhere above the desert, it’s finally quiet.
No slot machines and no strip glow.
No corporate whispers.
Just engine hum and cabin lights.
Pittsburgh: 3 hours and 30 minutes away.
For the first time in two weeks, I can feel the weight of it.
The job is gone.
My boss, my friend, is gone.
A chapter closed faster than I expected.
There’s sadness in that.
But here’s what I know as the wing cuts through the dark:
Music isn’t gone.
Experience isn’t gone.
Relationships aren’t gone.
This is a philosophical shift, not a life collapse.
A chapter closed quickly.
But it doesn’t erase what was built inside it.
And maybe what’s next isn’t another thing to build from scratch.
Maybe it’s something steadier.
Something that uses what I already know.
Something that lets me steward instead of constantly rebuild.
Right now, I’m not chasing the Strip lights.
I’m going home.
Home to Jamie, the kids, solidity, and the kind of quiet that doesn’t require hiding in a parking deck to find it.
Laptop still zipped.
Real life front and center.
The next chapter not yet written.