This isn’t the kind of story I ever thought I’d be writing. But life doesn’t exactly ask for your permission before shaking things up.
In early May of 2024, I was working as the store manager at a carpet store—a place I had invested years of hard work and long weekends into. I wasn’t making a fortune (just $50,000 a year), but I was proud of the work I did. I knew the products, I knew the customers, and I knew how to keep the wheels turning. It was the kind of job that didn’t make headlines, but it kept the lights on and gave me a sense of purpose.
Then, one day, our Vice President made an unexpected visit. I remember thinking it was a bit unusual—we didn’t often get visits from corporate higher-ups unless something big was happening. Turns out, something very big was.
He sat me down and delivered the kind of news that knocks the wind out of you.
Dalton Carpet, the business I had helped run for years, was closing its doors. After 17 years, the owners had decided it was time to shut down. Just like that. No dramatic farewell, no graceful winding down—just a four-week runway to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.
I had four weeks to update my résumé, reach out to old contacts, apply for jobs, and try to find solid ground before the floor vanished from under me completely. There was no severance. No grand thank-you for years of service. Just a head nod and a closing date.
It’s strange—when you work somewhere for a long time, especially in a small, customer-facing business like a carpet store, it becomes more than just a job. You know the regulars by name. You see people through renovations, new homes, new babies. It becomes a part of your identity. So when it ends, you’re not just losing a paycheck—you’re losing a chapter of your life.
I’m sharing this not to vent (okay, maybe a little), but because I know I’m not the only one. So many people are quietly facing job loss, career pivots, and economic uncertainty. If you’re one of them, I see you. It’s terrifying, it’s overwhelming, and some days it feels like you’re carrying a weight no one else notices.
But here’s the thing: even though I didn’t choose this change, I do get to choose what happens next.
That part of the story is still being written—and if you’re reading this, maybe you’re writing your own version of it, too.
Stay tuned.
The Next Chapter: From Bad News to a Worse Carpet Store

After the doors closed for good at Dalton Carpet in May 2024, I didn’t have much time to sit and reflect. Bills don’t wait, and neither does life—so I jumped at the first opportunity that came my way.
That opportunity was a position at another flooring business called LP Mooradian Co. At first, I was relieved. Landing a new job within weeks of losing my last one felt like a win. But it didn’t take long for the shine to wear off.
Let me be blunt: the place was a complete joke.
The pricing was outrageous—like, "are-you-kidding-me" levels of high. We’re talking $4,000 more than competitors for the exact same products. Same brands. Same styles. Just inflated numbers. At first, I thought maybe I was missing something—maybe there was a hidden value or premium service justifying the markup.
There wasn’t.
Turns out, they weren’t charging more because the products were better—they were charging more to support the overhead. One example? An ex-installer who now just handles measuring jobs. That's his entire role. From what I could tell, he probably pulls in close to $80,000 a year… to drive around, take a few measurements, and spend the rest of his time sitting behind a desk complaining about how hard everything is. And here's the kicker: his job seems to rely on overcharging clients just to justify his salary.
It didn’t take long before I realized why their bids were always so much higher. It’s not that they’re offering a better customer experience or a superior installation—it’s that they’ve built a bloated business model that only works by squeezing more money out of each customer.
Coming from a place like Dalton Carpet, where we worked hard to stay competitive and fair, it was a tough pill to swallow. I wasn’t comfortable selling inflated quotes to people just trying to upgrade their homes. Especially not in this economy.
So yeah, I found a job quickly—but it wasn’t the right one.
If this chapter taught me anything, it’s that not all jobs are worth keeping. Sometimes, walking away from something that doesn’t align with your values is just as important as finding a paycheck. I didn’t put in years of honest work to become part of a sales game that felt more like a hustle than a service.
I’m still figuring out where I go from here—but I know one thing for sure: wherever I end up next, it’s going to be a place I can believe in.
More to come…

Trending
👨👧 Fatherhood: Engaged Parenting & Digital Tools
Fatherhood is evolving with a focus on deeper engagement and digital support.
🏀 Sports: Tech-Enhanced Play & New Formats
Sports are embracing technology and new formats to enhance participation and engagement.
💰 Wealth: Digital-First Investing & ESG Focus
Wealth management is shifting towards digital platforms and ethical investing.

About me

My name’s Josh Watermolen, and I’m a proud dad, husband, retirement specialist, sports junkie, and former sailor—sharing my journey through life, fatherhood, and everything in between.

