When I started working for my father at the age of 18, I had just scraped through high school. With my final exams behind me, I declared—perhaps a bit too confidently—that I was done with formal education and ready to step into the real world. My destination? My father’s company.

At the time, I was thrilled. Finally, I could immerse myself in what truly fascinated me: movies and the magic behind how they’re made. My father had built a business around that very world—renting out film equipment, setting up a sound transfer studio, and running a recording space for music and dubbing in films and television. It felt like the perfect launchpad.

And so, the learning began.

A few months in, a breakdown at the Sound Transfer Studio brought everything to a halt—and with it, a revelation. We were responsible for critical parts of the production process, yet we didn’t fully understand the equipment we relied on. That moment hit me hard.
Electronics. That was the missing link.

It was a turning point—almost an epiphany. From that day forward, my work consistently led me back to learning. Whether it was understanding how a piece of gear functioned or how to optimize the environment in which we worked, I found myself diving deeper into knowledge I once thought I’d left behind.

Years later, with the clarity that only hindsight can offer, I began to understand something else: why my father never objected when I said I didn’t want to study further. Did he already see the path life would carve out for me? Was he quietly confident that real-world experience would eventually lead me back to academia, on my own terms?

I used to think I’d escaped the world of studying with a lucky break. But now I see it differently.

That chapter of my life—unexpected, hands-on, and humbling—was one of the rare moments that shaped me into a lifelong learner.