I got fired twice before I turned 30. It was the best thing that happened in my career.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Alex Stephany, founder of Beam.

It has been edited for length and clarity.

I was always a good student, but when I graduated from Oxford and entered the workforce, I immediately felt like a fish out of water.

One of my first weekends working as a lawyer, I went on a corporate retreat.

I remember feeling that everyone else in the room was much better suited to the work of being a lawyer than I was.

Two years later, when my contract was up, I wasn’t surprised that my employer didn’t renew it.

I tried my hand at management consulting, but even in a different job, I felt ill at ease in the corporate world.

I was fired from the consulting role after about four years.

I had been really successful in life as a student, but I worried I was ill-suited to adulting.

At Oxford, everyone became a doctor, lawyer, banker, or consultant — if I couldn’t succeed in those careers, I worried I wouldn’t succeed at all.

I was lucky that I could go home and live with my parents.

Even so, I had some really dark moments in the months after I was fired.

I just didn’t know what to do with my life.

Being fired not once, but twice, felt like proof that I was bad at adulting.

It became worse as I entered my 30s.

I was doing some writing work, but I was embarrassed to be underemployed at this stage of life.

When friends wanted to catch up, I worried about being the object of their pity.

During that time, I wasn’t spending much money.

Because of that, I got a smartphone late.

Once I had it in my hands, however, I saw it was going to transform everything.

I started going to tech events and applying to startups.

I would walk into rooms feeling shy and embarrassed, but force myself to ask people for coffee.

That’s when my life started to change.

I don’t want to downplay how traumatic and upsetting being fired was.

But looking back, I can see how being fired was a catalyst for my career.

Now, when I’m asked about the people who helped me, I name those bosses who fired me from roles I wasn’t good at.

I got hired in the startup space and eventually became the CEO of JustPark, an app that connects Londoners with parking.

In 2017, I founded Beam, which uses AI to better empower social service workers.

We have about 200 employees worldwide, and the technology is used in five countries.

Years of being underemployed forced me to build resilience and adaptability that have served me well as a CEO.

People who have only been successful in life aren’t suited to work in a startup, because you’re constantly failing when you try to get something off the ground.

Today, I know that I’m not fundamentally bad at being an adult.

I’m just not wired for a corporate, institutional role.

That makes sense, because I’ve always been a bit of a rebel.

Entrepreneurship is a much better role for me.

While the average tech CEO might strive to be like Elon Musk, billionaires aren’t my role models.

My family always taught me that successful people are those who help others, and that’s who I grew up admiring.

My great-grandfather was a businessman who helped Jews resettle in London before World War II.

He was a social entrepreneur before that, as a term — and I’m proud to follow in his footsteps.

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