I sold my bike to buy a career (a Venezuela story)

Venezuela is on everyone’s lips right now. It is impossible to ignore the headlines. And for me, impossible not to look back.

I was born in Uruguay, but I became an immigrant at age 10. Venezuela was the country that raised me. It received us with open arms, as it did with everyone in its golden age, before the systematic destruction began.

To understand the magnitude of the tragedy, you only need to look at one chart: Poland vs. Venezuela. In the early 90s, they had similar GDP trajectories. Today, they are galaxies apart. One is a thriving European economy; the other has 90% critical poverty and a minimum wage of $3.

Just take a look at this graph and draw your own conclusions:

But I have to be fair: I owe my career to Venezuela. I studied Computer Engineering for free. That education allowed me to become a Microsoft Consultant while I was still in university and be part of a vibrant tech community.

Those credentials got me into a massive state-owned heavy industry company. Back then, landing that job was like winning the lottery. You were set for life. But then, the rules changed. The government "demonized" proprietary software.

Suddenly, we were forced to migrate everything to Open Source. I had to adapt fast. I learned Linux, PHP, Ruby on Rails, and open standards out of necessity, not choice. That chaos made me a Full Stack Developer by survival.

By 2015, the deterioration reached a breaking point. It wasn't that the system suddenly started rewarding mediocrity. That had been a slow, agonizing rot for years. But by then, it became unbearable.

You couldn't grow in the big state-owned companies unless you played the political game. Technical merit was irrelevant; allegiance to the regime was the only KPI that mattered. We were being directed by the worst technical managers alive, political appointees with zero expertise who were driving the industry into the ground.

I found myself in a professional death trap. But I saw a way out: SAP.

There was an SAP team in the company that operated differently. They were a "High-Performance" island. Autonomous, professional, and somehow immune to the toxic politics surrounding us. I wanted in. But to join that "Dream Team," I had to start from zero. I was already a Senior Full Stack Dev. I had status. I had to kill my ego, forget my Seniority, and become a Rookie again.

Oh, and they had one rule: You had to be certified. And naturally, there was zero budget for training.

I made a deal with them: I would learn on my own for 5 months, then go to Caracas for a month to attend an on-site academy and take the certification exam.

Then came the reality check: I had to pay for the month in Caracas (hotel, food, academy). I lived 700 kms from there. I needed cash, and the economy was collapsing. I wasn't a marathon winner yet (it’s a joke, I didn't do an internship in Kenya), so I didn't have sponsors. But I had one asset: My bike.

I had bought it a year earlier to get into triathlons (which was a total failure, by the way). So, it didn’t hurt too much to let it go. I sold the bike. With that money, I financed my own "Scholarship."

I went to Caracas focused 100% on SAP, and passed. It sounds easy now. Today, learning SAP is democratic: you have free Learning Journeys, trial environments, and AI tutors. Back then, access was elitist and scarce.

That pivot saved me. It allowed me to work as a Basis/ABAP consultant (and sometimes as TPM) until I could finally leave the country in 2018.

I recently told this story to a group of European VPs and Managers at my current company. I saw a mix of amusement and admiration in their eyes (and received great feedback later). One of them told me it reminded him of the stories his grandfather told about the war in Europe 80 years ago. Stories of trading heirlooms for food or passage.

And that struck me. Leaving wasn't a choice; it was a forced migration. I delayed my departure to help my parents escape first. When my turn came, I had to sell everything for pennies. My car. My house. But the hardest part was giving away my books. I had a library of technical and literature books that I loved. Nobody wanted them. Seeing my intellectual capital (and one of my hobbies) being given away because they were "too heavy" to carry was the moment I realized:

I returned to Uruguay and started from zero, again. Knowing no one in the industry. As a rookie, earning just a bit more than minimum wage.

But there is a concept from Naval Ravikant that always resonated with me: If you strip a resourceful person of all their money and drop them in a random English-speaking country, within 5 years they will be wealthy again.

Why? Because wealth isn't the money in the bank.

That is exactly what I proved (even though I landed in Uruguay, English remained my professional leverage).

I lost my material assets (house, car, books), but I kept the "Source Code." In less than five years, I rebuilt my life from scratch. I don't know if Uruguay is my final stop. In a global world, you never know. But I know that wherever I go, my Operating System comes with me.

My old environment didn't corrupt me. I came from a toxic system, but I kept my agency.

It is a matter of attitude and focus. Today, I work for a global company where I have been recognized as a "High Performer" for three consecutive years. The collapse didn't define me; my response to it did.

If this story resonated with those European managers as a "war story," it is because it is one. Venezuela has been in a silent war for a long time. But it was a war where only one side had the guns, and the other side, the people, has been oppressed since Day 1.

So, if you haven't lived through it, be careful with your opinions. It is easy to judge from the comfort of a stable democracy.

To my Venezuelan brothers and sisters: I am with you. I hope one day the country heals enough for me to take my children there, so they can see where their father was forged.

Because whether it's a country collapsing, massive layoffs, or AI disrupting your industry in 2026, the rule remains the same: The environment is volatile.

You cannot control the macro (politics, AI, the economy). You can only control the micro (your agency, your skills, your response).

I built the Above Average OS to document the systems I use to navigate chaos without losing my sanity, or my family. Next week, we return to our regular programming: Systems, Bio-Hacking, and Legacy for the Tech Lead.

Don't rely on luck. Build your own raft. Be ready for anything. Be future-proof.

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