Editor’s Note: Many of us decide we don’t want to be part of the rat race, but few of us ever consider it a luxury to be a part of it in the first place. Afnan began by earning pennies, finally working his way into a steady college career leading towards a steady job.
But that’s when he got the entrepreneurial itch that-he realizes now- he’s had from birth.
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You don’t know me yet. My name is Afnan Hannan.
My life as a hustler began at the wee age of 4 months, when doctors in my hometown of Chittagong, Bangladesh jabbed me with a dose of steroids (for medicinal purposes, to increase my platelet count, of course). Although the doctors claim otherwise, I know the side effects were profound; it was my kryptonite.
Shortly after, my parents moved me to Australia, bringing us to the land of opportunity with the hope that their son would one day become a professional, graduating with an engineering degree.
Year 2: The Scent of Rusty Coins
Vacuuming and mopping the house for a measly $2 of pocket money a week. This was the first time I felt the joys of making an income. Having never been in this situation before, I didn’t know what to do with all the cash, and that was the beginning of my ice-block addiction.
Year 4: Coke On the Corner
By this stage in life, my pocket money had increased from $2 to $5 a week. I was out of control; not only was I hitting my own fix of Zooper Doopers (an ice block brand) every day, but I was also funding my best mate’s ice habit. But the thing is, once you start hustling, it’s just never enough.
Materialism had gotten a hold of me, and as I looked down at the dirty old Slazengers on my feet, I told myself I was better than that. So I started pushing coke cans every day during lunch and recess. Now I was really ballin’; I bought myself a new pair of $180 Adidas trainers, top of the range.
I bought myself a purple hat and a new leather basketball that we played with at school. We were living the life.
Year 11: Crash and Burn
After having worked constantly for the past 6 years at everything from newspaper boy to dish-pig, burger flipper to librarian, I had saved up enough money to go in and kick it with the big dogs. So we went to what I now know as a shady family connect I had and picked up a cool 20k worth of garments arriving from Bangladesh.
We literally had a truckload of clothes at my house, and had to stuff it under all my siblings’ beds because my parents couldn’t find out. They did find out, and they went ballistic! Telling me I was mad and that I was going to lose all my money. We tried selling the clothes for about 6 weeks at the local marketplace.
But then we couldn’t even afford to pay the rent anymore and realised, my mum was right and we pretty much had lost all our money. That’s probably the first time I truly understood what a sunk cost was, as my best mate and I dropped the clothes off outside the Salvation Army bin (some of it still remains in my cupboard as a stark reminder of those days).
Year 12: The Real Hustle Begins
I vividly remember the first week of school: reality struck home when the careers adviser slapped my estimate of 60-65 ATAR (university admissions score) on the table. I needed at least 85 to get into engineering and scores are averaged over 2 years, so I had dug myself a pretty bad hole. I was told there was no chance, and if I was interested in engineering so much, I should focus on the practical applications.
Why not be realistic and train to become a plumber, a carpenter or even an electrician? Well, I told that lady that realism has never helped anybody achieve anything that somebody hasn’t already achieved before them – I needed to get accepted into engineering. Thus began the year of no recreation and no friends.
Year University
The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat. It was at this stage of my life that I realised I was worn out. The momentum from my last year of college had continued till now, and as I sat late at night in the labs perched on top of my High Distinction average, I asked myself, “For what? What was all this hard work for? Was it for my parents? Was it for my own knowledge? Or was it for that piece of paper?”
My parents brought me to the land of opportunity and I was slaving away in the labs so I could get out and work on somebody else’s dream? No, I was going to work on my own dream – it was time to get my hustle on again!
Finding three likeminded individuals, who are now amongst my best friends, I founded a company called Pendulum Technology. We worked harder than anyone else, were smarter than anyone else, and, most of all, we worked with a mission: to exit the rat race before it started for us.
So far we’ve won $15,000 of prize money from an ACT innovation competition for a platform which assists students in studying collaboratively and more effectively. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. We now have five projects under our company name, including my honours thesis paper I’m working on, and we know we are destined for much bigger things.
What got us here? We each have our individual stories, but this one was mine. The hustle got us here.
If I get this money, it’s going straight into our start-up. That’s what my life is right now, and we’re in the process of attaining $1 of no-strings attached government investment into our idea for every $1 we put into it ourselves, so essentially I’ve got twice as much at stake as the other competitors for this grant!
But give me your money if you want. If you don’t, then I thank you anyway, for this was a nice exercise in documenting my journey and I would not have done it otherwise.
So thank you reader, and if you remember the name, make sure to say hi when we bump into each other on the red carpet 😉
