How a Misfit Built a Life That Fits Your Family
You wouldn't know by looking, but I grew up feeling different from everyone around me. I was born with a profound hearing loss, and our home carried a tension I could feel long before I could understand it.
What Happened To My Dad
As a boy, I never understood why my dad carried so much anger and bitterness. But the truth is, he earned every scar.
He spent three years of his boyhood in a Nazi concentration camp, a child small enough to disappear in a crowd, yet old enough to understand that the world could turn cruel overnight.
When the war ended and he reached America at nine years old, he could not speak a single word of English. Not one. He arrived with a German name, a German accent, and blond hair and blue eyes that marked him before he ever said a word.
Kids mocked him, spit on him, blamed him for a war he did not start. Then came the orphanage: five punishing years of predawn chores, shoveling coal, milking cows, hard labor he never chose. He tried to run away three times. Each time they beat him and dragged him back.
So no, he did not flinch. He made my brother and me flinch. He carried his trauma like a weapon, like proof the universe had cheated him and owed him something back. He was angry. Bitter. Convinced he had gotten a raw deal in life.
All of that, the weight of it and the heat of it, rolled downhill into our home and into my childhood. I felt the weight of a past that never left him. And growing up in that environment shaped my entire view of the world.
Growing Up Different
My hearing loss showed up early, long before anyone knew about it. As a toddler, my mom noticed I didn't always respond when she talked to me. She took me from one specialist to another, trying to figure out why I seemed to live in my own quiet world. It took years before anyone discovered the truth - I had a significant hearing loss.
By second grade, I was fitted with a behind-the-ear hearing aid. As a preschooler, I had a slight speech impediment. Whenever I used words with the letter "R," they came out sounding like "W." Kids on the school bus picked up on it fast. They would loudly say, "Hey Paul, you waskerley wabbit!" They thought it was harmless. But to a young kid already feeling different, every laugh landed hard.
I grew painfully aware that I wasn't like the other kids. I kept my hair a little long to cover my hearing aid. I was shy, socially awkward, and constantly trying to hide how inadequate I felt. Most kids learn to blend in; I learned to disappear.
Still, I tagged along with friends who were into sports. On a field or court, my hearing loss didn't matter. Effort mattered. Heart mattered. It was the one place where I felt like I could keep up, where the rules made sense, and where nobody cared whether I talked funny or wore something behind my ear. Even then, I was still an introvert trying to fit into a world that didn't feel built for me - but sports gave me a small space where I felt like I belonged.
Off to College
After high school, I headed to Lees-McRae College in the mountains of North Carolina. Maybe I could figure out what to do with my life. And I could continue playing football.
The Lees-McRae Bobcats had a tough football program. While I was there, our team won the East Bowl and the national championship.
Fall camp was hard. No students on campus yet, just players and coaches. In the beginning, we practiced four times a day. This caused some guys to take what the older players called the Night Train. They packed up and left in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.
As the season went on, we practiced in the snow. The weather was miserable at times, but somehow I got through it. As long as we kept moving, I could push through the wind and the cold.
My college ID. Sunburned from football practice.
After two years, I transferred to East Carolina University. Big campus. New energy. A fresh start. I loved it.
I still did not know what I wanted to do with my life. I started in Business, but I was so far behind the times I did not even know how to turn on a computer. Embarrassed to ask for help, I dropped the class and eventually switched to Psychology.
I wanted something better financially than what I had grown up with, but I did not know how to get there.
That is me on the left, after a weightlifting workout.
Hyperhidrosis
On top of everything else, I had hyperhidrosis, which is excessive sweating of the hands, underarms, and feet. I changed clothes constantly, avoided handshakes, and absolutely dreaded summer. Every night I prayed and begged for God to heal me.
It absolutely dominated my life.
After moving to Arkansas, I found a specialist in Little Rock. Surgery changed my life. My feet still sweat a little in summer, but the constant embarrassment is gone. I am extremely grateful. Thank you, Lord!
Our wedding day. Paul and Laura, November 23, 1999.
My First Look at "The Business"
My first exposure to Amway came long before college. Years earlier, my mom and dad had both been involved for a while. I remembered their excitement and them talking about their big dreams.
So when I was at East Carolina and noticed the downtown gym owner cleaning mirrors with an Amway spray bottle, something clicked inside of me. It brought all of that back, and for the first time I thought, "That's what I am going to do. I'm going to do Amway."
Getting involved in "The Business" challenged me in ways I did not see coming. I was a shy, introverted kid with a severe hearing loss, and suddenly I was in arenas with twenty thousand people cheering like they were at a revival.
I did the entire Amway experience, the huge rallies, the late night Night Owl meetings, the books, the tapes, and the functions you were told to buy if you were serious.
I tried to follow the system, including the scripts, but they never felt honest. If someone asked, "Is this Amway?" we were trained to dodge the question. That never sat right with me.
The turning point came when I learned where the real money at the top was made. It was not from selling products or building a team. It came from heavily promoting motivational tools and function tickets to the people in your downline.
The moment I understood that, something shifted inside of me. It was not a business model I could stand behind. Still, the experience shaped me. It taught me what I would never tolerate again: hype, pressure, dodging the truth, or making money off people instead of serving them.
Finding AIM
Around that time I met Janice Gravely, a woman whose health turned around after she discovered concentrated nutrition.
She was not building her AIM business for the money. Her family was wealthy and did not need it. She shared the products because she believed in them. I did not join a company. I joined her belief.
Janice Gravely
Over time, I learned more about her story. By seventy five, her health had declined so much that her family considered hiring a nurse. But after changing her diet and adding concentrated nutrition, she turned her health around and lived to be ninety nine years old.
Mrs. Gravely and me
I became an AIM Member, but I still had not found a way to build the business in a way that fit who I was: introverted, hearing impaired, and not naturally social.
A Job That Did Not Fit Me
After Laura and I married, I moved to Arkansas and took a job selling books to schools. That eventually led to a position with Nystrom, calling on more than 300 school districts across the state.
It was a good job. It really was. But I was bored out of my mind. I spent hours on the road every week. A few times a year I had to fly to company meetings in Chicago, Atlanta, and Houston. None of it felt like my life. I did not enjoy being away from home, and I did not want a future built around someone else's schedule.
Becoming a Dad Changed Everything
When my son was born, my priorities snapped into place. At the time I owned a lawn care business. It was honest work, but the days were long, and I did not want my son growing up with memories of me always being gone and wiped out when I got home.
Working hard, doing what needed to be done.
So I sold the equipment and took a job driving a school bus. Most people would call that a step backward. For me, it was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Driving a bus put me on the same schedule as my son. We decided to homeschool him, and later, when he played basketball and baseball, I was at every practice and every game. I did not miss the moments that mattered.
The Lord gave me the right job when I needed one.
Thirty Years of Figuring It Out
I did not have a sponsor who could teach me marketing, so I learned on my own. I bought books, audios, courses, thousands of hours, thousands of dollars.
A few things became clear:
- People buy in their own time and for their own reasons.
- Trying to persuade people only creates resistance.
- You're not looking for everyone. You're looking for the right ones.
- No is not rejection. No is feedback. It's a good thing.
- It's not a convincing process. It's an elimination process.
That shift, from convincing to sorting, changed everything.
How I Work Now
I am not a network marketing superstar. I am a dad, a husband, and a businessman who spent years figuring out what does not work, and what finally does.
- You do not need hustle culture. You need a simple, repeatable process.
- Most people are not your prospects. That's not a negative, it's a filter.
- At any given time, a small percentage of people are ready, willing and able to join your business. Your job is to simply find them.
Here is my process now:
- A simple 3x2 card with a message that speaks to the right parent.
- A quiet landing page that does the heavy lifting and begins to share my story.
- A short guide that explains how the business actually works.
- My full story, for the parents who want to understand who I am and what shaped me.
- And only then, an introduction to the company and their products.
No hype. No chasing. No convincing. Simply sorting.
Why I Am Sharing This
A no is not rejection.
A no is feedback. It's a good thing.
It means "not a fit," and that's best for both of us.
I'm not a victim. Life hit hard, hearing loss, health challenges, money pressure, but I'm still standing. And I'm better for having gone through it.
If you're a mom or dad lying in bed at night thinking, "My kids are growing up without me," and you want a quiet, practical way to build a second income on the side, maybe my story will help you see there is a path for you too.
Not a fast path. Not a flashy path. A real one.
If something here makes sense to you, you're welcome to reach out. Thank you for reading.
P.S. What I do is not for everybody. I'm selective about who I work with. If you're a serious parent and this approach makes sense to you, contact me.