Looking back on my school years, I can pinpoint a few teachers who truly made a lasting impact on me. One of the most memorable was my 12th-grade English teacher, Mr. Hartman.

Now, Mr. Hartman was infamous for giving out terrible grades. I thought I had English in the bag—I enjoyed writing and assumed I’d breeze through his class. So you can imagine my shock when my first paper came back with a big, fat 'F' on it. I’ll admit I was livid and thought it was completely inappropriate. But instead of writing me off or feeding my frustration, he challenged me. “You’re in 12th grade, buddy. You’ve got more to learn.”

For most of my life, my identity was wrapped up in what I could do. I was an athlete. A competitor. Someone who could contribute through my performance. Football, in particular, gave me a sense of purpose. For four years in college, it structured my days, demanded my best, and in return, gave me confidence and belonging. But then it was over. And I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

Moving as a kid is hard. Moving in middle school? Downright brutal. I learned that firsthand in seventh grade when my family packed up our lives and moved from the only town I’d ever known to Texas. Back home, life had been easy—I had friends, I was good at sports, and school came naturally. But then, suddenly, I was the new kid.

I never saw myself as a coupon guy. Teacher? Yep. Insurance guy? Sure. Football guy? Absolutely. But coupon guy? Not in a million years. And yet, there I was in 2009, standing in front of a room full of people, waving a mile-long grocery receipt like it was a winning lottery ticket.

But let me back up.