It always ends in a fried chicken shop—an unfunny reality.
It has been two months since my former overseas sales team lead left the company and opened one.
I. Office workers usually live with only two options
Most office workers follow the same pattern.
We get hired, we adapt, we endure, and then we consider switching jobs.
And then we repeat the same 고민 all over again.
The paycheck that arrives every month is always tight.
There is rarely any spare money to invest.
So our choices narrow naturally into one question:
Do I stay at this company, or do I move to a better one?
Starting a business always feels like a distant story.
Until a colleague sitting right next to us says,
“I think I’m going to try running my own business.”
Even then, most of us see it as reckless.
But looking back, that judgment wasn’t a calm analysis.
It was fear—quiet, vague, and deeply familiar.
II. Around 45, switching jobs stops feeling like an option
In your mid-40s, changing jobs no longer feels like something you choose.
It starts to feel like something that happens to you.
The burden of adapting to a new culture and new people,
the pressure of delivering results immediately,
the fear of becoming “the one who couldn’t keep up,”
and finally the resignation: “Every workplace is basically the same.”
When those thoughts repeat long enough,
the option of switching jobs quietly disappears.
And only then do we ask the question we avoided for years:
Is there anything I can do on my own?
Even while knowing it may already be late,
there is nothing else left to hold on to.
III. Why “49” feels like a turning point
In your early 40s, certain truths don’t land.
“Work hard and you’ll be fine.”
“If you’re good enough, people will recognize you.”
I believed that too.
But to survive in a company for a long time,
skill alone is not enough.
Sometimes you swallow your pride.
Sometimes you read the room.
Sometimes you have to care about politics you never wanted to play.
“Isn’t it enough to just do things the right way?”
I believed that too.
If that belief had been true,
I might still be there.
The moment you realize you have nowhere else to go,
the way people treat you can change—clearly, unmistakably.
A manager stops offering even basic courtesy,
and starts giving orders with a certain tone.
“What are you going to do about it?”
You want to quit because it feels humiliating,
but reality holds you down—because you don’t have a place to land.
You endure, and endure again,
until your body and mind break together.
That is why many people don’t leave by choice.
They leave because they are pushed out.
For many, “49” isn’t a planned retirement.
It’s the age you reach after holding on for too long.
IV. And then, the chicken shop—followed by regret
Many of my former juniors are now running their own businesses.
Some left in their mid-30s.
Even those who left later did so in their early 40s,
opened a small shop, and started building something of their own.
Watching them, I used to think:
“They have no idea how hard business is.”
“What if they fail?”
Looking back, it wasn’t about them.
It was my fear—projected onto their choices.
While I was struggling with stress and burnout,
they were already settling into their own path,
slowly building a place where they could stand.
Why did I believe I could stay at this company until retirement?
Why didn’t I think earlier about how to survive on my own?
Whether you switch jobs or keep enduring,
most people end up leaving around a similar age.
If that is true,
shouldn’t I have prepared—earlier—
the strength to survive without a company behind me?
Only later did that regret arrive.
And it stayed.
