“How did you get your first job”

A room full of FAU finance majors.

All waiting for an answer that would help guide them on their journey into the real world.

What was my answer?

“Nepotism.”

No polished response. No attempt to dress it up.

Just the truth.

And you could feel the reaction in the room. The awkward laugh when you’re not sure how else to respond, but also because it was kind of funny.

Because everyone in that room knew what that word meant.

And they also knew what it implied.

We’ve all seen the conversation around “nepo babies.” It’s not just happening in Hollywood. It exists in every industry. Especially in professional services. Law firms. CPA firms. Advisory practices. Family-built businesses that get passed down.

And I’m not naïve to it.

It would be disingenuous to pretend I didn’t have an advantage. In a field where people are cold-calling, chasing prospects, and grinding to build a book from nothing, I stepped into an existing business. I had clients. I had a salary. I had a seat at the table.

I get why that frustrates people. I really do.

But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the other side of it.

Because where there is an advantage, there is also a weight that comes with it.

From the outside, joining the family business probably looked simple. Expected, even. But internally, it was anything but. You don’t just step in.

You inherit expectations. You were given a shot. Now prove you deserved it.

And the truth is, the expectations don’t just come from the outside world.

They come from inside the house first.

Family doesn’t always go easy on you. If anything, they hold you to a higher standard. There is less patience for excuses. Less tolerance for mediocrity. You don’t get to hide behind “learning curves” for long.

So now you are not just trying to prove yourself to your parent.

You are trying to prove yourself to their clients. To their peers.

To a room already questioning you.

You start to wonder:

Do they respect me or are they just tolerating me?

Am I their advisor or just their advisor’s daughter?

For me, that pressure collided with something deeper.

I didn’t feel like I measured up.

I had spent my entire life looking up to my dad. Watching how he showed up for clients. The way people trusted him. The way he carried himself in conversations that mattered.

He wasn’t just good at what he did. He was respected. And I couldn’t see how I would ever fill those shoes.

At the same time, I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I questioned how I showed up in rooms, how I sounded, whether I belonged there at all.

So I made a choice that felt safe.

I stayed behind the curtain. Instead of building something of my own, I focused on servicing the existing book. I told myself it was the responsible move. But if I am being honest, it was also a way to hide.

Because if I didn’t put myself out there, I couldn’t fail publicly.

I knew the material. I understood the work. But confidence doesn’t come from knowledge alone.

And imposter syndrome has a way of showing up loudest when you are standing next to someone who has already proven themselves.

Looking back, I can see that my dad had his own internal battle happening at the same time. He worried about making it too easy.

About whether he was holding me back from becoming the advisor he believed I could be.

And he did believe that.

There’s a moment that stuck with him and eventually stuck with me too. We were on a trip in Mexico with some family friends, and we went looking for cenotes. We found one that didn’t look like much at first. Just a small opening in the ground.

But once you got close, you realized what it actually was.

To get in, you had to jump straight down through this tight opening. No easing your way in. No gradual entry. Just a decision.

There were four of us. Three men. And me.

Out of the four of us, I was the first one to go.

No overthinking. No waiting.

I just jumped.

Later, my dad told me that in that moment, he looked at his friend and said, “This is why I think she’s going to do great in this business.”

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. Now I do. Because it wasn’t about the jump.

It was about the willingness to go first.

To move before you feel ready. To act while you’re still unsure. 

The shift didn’t happen overnight. There wasn’t one defining moment where everything clicked and I suddenly felt confident. It was smaller than that.

I started saying yes to things that made me uncomfortable. It was going to my first intimate networking event, walking in feeling completely out of place, questioning whether I belonged in that room.

But I went anyway.

Then I went again.

Each time, it got a little easier.

Each time, I got a little more comfortable hearing my own voice in conversations.

Each time, I proved something to myself, not to anyone else.

That I could show up.

That I could contribute.

That I didn’t need to hide.

Somewhere along the way, the narrative shifted. Not all at once, but enough that I started stepping forward instead of staying back.

I started taking more ownership, speaking more directly. Leaning into the relationships instead of feeling like I was borrowing them. And over time, something interesting happened.

The same people I was worried wouldn’t take me seriously started trusting me.

Not because of my last name. But because of how I showed up.

Clients started calling me first instead of my father. Referrals were sent to me. Opportunities came to me. Now my dad jokes that I have put him in the shadows.

But the goal was never to outshine him.

It was to stop holding myself back.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Opportunity doesn’t eliminate pressure. It changes the shape of it.

And if you are not careful, that pressure will either keep you small or force you to grow. It will keep you waiting. 

Waiting to feel ready.

Waiting to feel confident.

Waiting for a moment that never actually comes.

The people who grow into these roles are not the ones who feel the most prepared. They’re the ones who move anyway.

Who take the meeting.

Who speak before their voice fully settles.

Who step forward while they still feel unsure.

And the part that is easy to miss? The people around you are not waiting for you to be perfect. They are watching how you show up.

Your clients don’t need you to be the finished product.

They need you to be present. Honest. Willing to guide them, even when you are still growing yourself.

So yes, I got my start through nepotism.

That is the truth. But what shaped who I became in that role was not how I got in.

It was what I chose to do next.

And that part?

No one can hand that to you. You have to step into it. Not when you feel ready.

While you’re still unsure.

While you’re still questioning it.

While part of you wants to stay where it’s safe.

You move before the confidence shows up. 

If you’re standing at that edge right now, take the leap.

Nicole Carlon is a CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER™ professional and Certified Divorce Financial Analyst® who helps women, young professionals, and growing families build financial independence through clear, strategic planning that integrates tax, estate, and investment decisions. She serves  as both a guide and partner, helping clients understand not just what to do, but why it matters. Her approach combines structured, values-based strategy with education and compassion, creating confidence that leads to better long-term decisions. At WiseOak Wealth, she collaborates with accountants and attorneys to build aligned financial strategies tailored to each client’s goals, values, and life transitions. Her work focuses on creating clarity, stability, and lasting financial direction.

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