Why I rejected a multi-millionaire to hang out with Quokkas
“It felt like I was back in the dating world, and dealing with a sulky man-child who didn’t get a reply fast enough. At this point, I stopped lying to myself and admitted that I’d allowed myself to be manipulated — even as someone who is both a survivor and educator of emotional abuse — and it was my responsibility to cut this toxic cord between us.”
IN 2023 I rejected a multi-millionaire for a bunch of cute (but definitely lice-ridden) Quokkas.
Not something I ever expected myself to say, but it’s 100% true. And in hindsight, it was the best decision ever…
…but before I get too ahead of myself, let me tell you a story.
I first met *Chad at a business event; a small and intimate gathering which he promised wouldn’t be another ‘run to the back of the room and buy my course’ seminar, but would instead focus on networking and bringing people together to create partnerships.
And despite ALL of the red flags that were niggling at me (many of them BEFORE I even arrived), I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
To be honest, I’d never heard of Chad, but he came highly recommended by someone I’d worked with.
Supposedly he was ‘the best coach in his field’ and with a long stream of celebrity endorsements and photos, including a female celeb who is known only by her first name, it seemed he was the real deal.
Still…there was something that just didn’t sit right with me; something that caused me to feel skeptical about Chad and his claims. But within minutes of sitting down to hear him speak, he was quick to shut down this vein of thought, telling us that Australians are often ‘skeptical’, and insinuating that this kind of critical thinking was an ‘us’ problem (rather than a sign of our intuition). He was quick to use words like ‘coachable’ when describing people who were open to hearing him, and it was clear that he truly believed himself to be a Big Deal.
I found myself wondering if I was in the right place, but since he’d come highly recommended to me, I decided to give it a go.
At first, my notepad was scribbled with positive notes – soundbites, advice, and Chad’s perceptions of fame.
I appreciated his honesty about the lack of authenticity in the business world, and the illusions people try to create with their rented Lamborghinis, mansions, and fake Instagram followers. I liked that he wasn’t one of the ‘fakers’.
As the day progressed, however, I saw that there was another side to him.
He was demanding.
A self-professed ‘Killer Shark.’
He bemoaned the people who used him for his connections and never said thank you – whilst simultaneously belittling his own audience members.
What’s with this ugly shirt?” he sneered, singling out an aspiring entrepreneur. “It looks like it’s part of a couch. How long ago did you get that? How old is it?”
When the attendee replied that the shirt was actually new, Chad called on another audience member, demanding him to: “Tell the truth – is this guy’s shirt ugly or not?”
At another point, Chad encountered sound issues with his presentation, calling on a female team member to fix it, and berating her when she asked if it was an issue with his laptop or the projector. “You need to fix the soundboard,” he barked. She hurried around in the background, while Chad chomped aggressively on his chewing gum.
Minutes later, he called out again to the same staff member, complaining dramatically about the air conditioning. “I had shrinkage, and now I’m sweating,” he moaned, flapping his jacket. “Seriously.”
By this point, my stomach was squirming with anxiety; and while the room may have been warm to Chad, to me, it was as frosty as his demeanor.
As a survivor of trauma, and also someone who specializes in understanding the red flags of abuse and manipulation, it was evident that he was a man who liked to be in control.
The problem, however, was that everything he said was delivered with the slightest hint of a smile, or the tiniest scattering of dry humor.
It was there, but then gone. It was tangible, but also hard to grasp.
Why do I feel so off about this guy? I wondered. Everyone around me seems under his spell – is it just me?
*Image: Stock (not Chad)
The day wore on and I did my best to put aside my personal feelings of Chad and his random tangents and statements (“I can brand anyone,” “I MADE this person who he is,” “Women always tell sad stories to try and sell to people”), and tried to focus instead on the tangible advice.
Was Chad my kind of person? No. He was the kind who told us that men who “choose to be at home every morning with their kids” rather than out hustling and “making 10 million dollars” are “losers.”
He was the kind of man who winked and smiled at women in the audience, as he held out his tie and told a woman to touch it (“It’s lucky. And now you’re doubly lucky!”).
Truthfully, I couldn’t resonate with a lot of Chad’s personality; but as an intuitive, empathy-led coach, I told myself that it was probably good for me to hear from someone who had a ‘No BS’ approach to business. Someone who would tell me truths about my business blocks.
And so, against my better judgement, I listened to what my former mentor had told me about Chad, and decided to sign up for his offer to speak on stage with him in America. Soon, I was motioned into a room with half a dozen other hopefuls.
As I nervously walked towards him, he barely even said Hello. Instead, he stared at me coldly.
“Hi, I’m Jas,” I shared. “I’m a book coach, and I’m also a resilience speaker who specializes in –”
“No,” he interjected, completely cutting me off. “Instead of ‘Book Coach’, you’re gonna call yourself this…” Then he told me something that, to be honest, sounded like a cookie-cutter version of everything I didn’t want to be. “Here’s the thing though,” he said. “Your hair.”
Instantly, my stomach clenched. Behind me, the other hopefuls looked on in silence.
“I’d highly recommend you change it. I’ve seen a bunch of women with colored hair this week and they’re all broke. It could be a barrier to you being more successful.”
“I could be the one to prove them wrong,” I countered, holding his gaze.
“How much are you making?”
I told him.
“Right, well you’re the only one making money,” he barked.
When I tried to explain that my bright hair had become a trademark of sorts for my brand – the thing that makes me stand out in an over-saturated market and makes people literally stop me in the street to tell me they know who I am – I was instantly shot down. On and on he went about me ‘alienating’ people; an endless dressing-down.
“Just think about it,” he said. “But I’m gonna give you a chance.”
He held out his hand to fist bump me – a peculiar move – before watching me walk out the door and calling over his shoulder: “Hey – do you hate me or are we cool?” I mumbled a meek reply, but it wasn’t good enough for Chad. “You hesitated for a second!” he smirked, embarrassing me in front of everyone.
By this point I was confused, overwhelmed, emotionally frazzled and shaking from not having had enough to eat during the day, and as Chad’s team member waited for me to hand over my credit card, I felt my intuition screaming out. You don’t have to do this, it said. You can run right out that door.
But then, there was Chad; once again right beside me. He plonked down on the empty chair to my left, his face now relaxed and goofy, like a good friend.
“What percentage?” He asked it casually as if I knew exactly what he meant.
I raised my brows, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I know a great hair stylist – what percentage are you thinking about changing your hair?” He smiled broadly; the first hint of warmth that I’d experienced from him all day.
It’s almost impossible to describe the level of confusion I had at this point. Why I – as an adult woman who is well educated about the red flags of emotional abuse – couldn’t seem to find my voice.
Why, instead of telling him to “Get F*cked,” I mumbled that I would ‘think about it.’
And with that, Chad rushed off, buzzing away to another room as quickly as he’d arrived.
Me and my ‘alienating hair colour’ — according to Chad.
To cut a long story short, not long afterwards I realised — with a sinking sensation — that I’d been intimidated and manipulated into doing something I really didn’t want to do. I’d been fooled by the biggest bro marketer out there.
This was evident in the hours afterwards, when Chad began messaging me on social media with generic messages like ‘There she is!’ (never once using my name), asking me to ‘like and share’ his posts, and then following up with an ice-cold ‘You didn’t reply’ when I didn’t respond.
It felt like I was back in the dating world, and dealing with a sulky man-child who didn’t get a reply fast enough.
At this point, I stopped lying to myself and admitted that I’d allowed myself to be manipulated — even as someone who is both a survivor and educator of emotional abuse — and it was my responsibility to cut this toxic cord between us.
By this time, I was already set to speak on a massive stage in America with several very well-known celebrity friends of Chad, and if I’d gone along, I would have had flashy photos to show you of me with all these celebs. But I said No.
Because paying tens of thousands of dollars for what was essentially a ‘photo opportunity’ with a few celebrities — just to manipulate people into thinking I was a Big Deal like Chad — isn’t my style.
I’m here for genuine connection. For transparency and vulnerability. For true authenticity — not the manufactured type.
And so, I found my inner power and broke up with Chad and his toxic company.
Instead, I went on an 8 day holiday with my husband and son to Western Australia.
At the same time that I should have been on stage with Chad and his celebs, I was taking selfies with Quokkas.
AND IT WAS THE BEST DECISION EVER.
In Chad’s eyes I’m a skeptical Aussie with ugly hair, and I’m sure he thinks I’m irrelevant and unsuccessful (simply because I’m happy to prioritise family over fame, and I’m not fanatical about becoming a millionaire)
But at the end of the day, I simply don’t care.
Whilst my hair colour has changed since the time I met Chad, it was a decision I made for myself – not from a place of fear or a need to be liked by someone who goes against all my personal values.
People still continue to tell me how much they love my hair (whether it's my previous blue-teal shade, or my current reddish-purple wine colour) – but mostly, they tell me about the impact I’ve made on their lives, or how they're grateful I'm their coach.
At the end of the day, I’ll never know if Chad was right.
Maybe if I’d only listened, and been willing to get up at 3.45 am, hustle all day, and get torn apart and rebuilt by a man who knows nothing about me whilst changing everything that makes me unique, I’d be earning 7 figures and hanging with celebrities.
But I have to ask myself: At what cost to my creativity, mental health, and personal values?
While my journey may be slower, I know that I still have my integrity.
And most importantly, I don’t need to be ‘Branded’ by a man who deems himself the only way to Hollywood.
As several wise women said to me throughout this experience:
“Your unicorn people need you. You don’t have to change for anyone – and if they ask you to, tell them: ‘If I’m too much, go and find less.’”
