What gambling addiction taught me about building real value in business

Here’s what nobody tells you about overcoming addiction: you don’t. Not really. It’s always there.

You might forget the number of times you blew your month’s paycheque in 24 hours, or how often you had to ask for loans. You’ll forget how often you had to ask others for money, and to see those relationships sour over time. Like me, you’ll do your best to overcome it, and you’ll have loving friends and family to see you through. Or like me, you might have to rely on strangers and shared experiences for help. But however you deal with addiction, you never forget the compulsion. The need. It’s always there.

Rewind to a full-on night in 2012, where everything felt like it was catching up with me. My dad gave me yet another talk about sorting my life out. At the time, I was working for a recruitment company, cold calling, chasing leads. I learned how to push and drive sales and got a thrill from landing deals. I was good at it. I enjoyed it. And I blew my paycheque even faster.

Later, I worked for a London agency, building a reputation for closing deals. And still spending my pay within hours.

People will tell you that to overcome addiction, you have to hit rock bottom. For me, there wasn’t one dramatic moment where it hit me that I had to sort my life out. It was a slow decline. I didn’t notice the signs right away.

But the fact is I used to be a compulsive gambler. I still am. It’s not something I’ll ever truly beat. I can only do my best, one day at a time.

For me, the only way through was talking. After attending Gamblers Anonymous (GA) for a couple of years, I set up a Hertford GA meeting, held in a Quaker hall opposite a Domino’s pizza chain. When we first opened, 20 or 30 people would show up. Now it’s eight on a busy night. I’d like to think it helps people. But week after week, the one person it has helped is me.

Despite the many jobs I’ve had, my experiences in gambling and trying to overcome it, led me to want something more. I wanted a job that had a purpose, not just a financial incentive. I wanted my work to actually make a difference. To matter.

I went into business with my brother creating an educational company. In my old company, I’ll admit, I leveraged my story. “Why us? What makes us different?” is the hardest question in sales. People love a zero-to-hero narrative, the underdog who turns it around. We put it into award submissions. It was true, and it worked. Over a few years, bang: recognition, credibility, course sales.

But that was me still chasing quick wins. The same thrill, just packaged more nicely. It took years for me to learn that short-term validation doesn’t necessarily equal long-term value.

These successes look great, but they don’t have the same impact, or leave a person feeling like they’ve actually accomplished something, the way the right kind of investment does.

Corporates can throw money at a problem, make a charity donation, and that’s great. Maybe it will help bolster a campaign, or a cause. But what I learned as I sold my company and started working in further education (FE) is that here, your money really does matter, and it actually changes people’s lives for the better. And the best part: you can see it happen.

In FE, you can see where corporate investment goes. I’ll be at an event, and I’ll see a facilities management apprentice get up and accept a major award, when just two years ago, her confidence was so low, she could barely look her instructor in the eye.

Or a former student, who failed his English requirement GCSE and had to pay to resit the exam. His focus and drive is something that thrives here, and I’m proud to say that he got a chance to speak at a Lord Mayor’s event and accept an award on behalf of his classmates, who were all too shy to say anything. He took that first step forward, doing what everyone else in his group was too afraid to do. We gave him that opportunity, and he took it. No one knew that that chance launched a career in public speaking and advocacy, all within a year. Not bad considering the kid can’t even vote yet.

I’ve been working in FE for about two years now, and it’s around this time of year I ask myself, what does it look like to build something that actually helps someone? Where’s the social value in what I do?

That question became real for me in further education. Each day at Capital City College, I walk the corridors and see the students in the classrooms, whether they’re learning culinary tricks of the trade in the same kitchens where Jamie Oliver trained (yes he’s an alumni of ours) or learning performing arts and treading the boards where our alumni and Stranger Things actor Charlie Heaton studied.

To the public, these are young adults. You might seem them at the corner shop, or on the bus on your way to work. But they need help.

Out of the 35,000 students studying at our campuses, over 60% come from some of the most low-income and disadvantaged households in London. We’re teaching them podcasting, computer coding, plumbing, construction, health and social care, even hair and beauty. They come here, not just to learn, but for the opportunities they’ll get, and more.

I know what you’re thinking. Cue the Whitney Houston track, Greatest Love of All. But, she’s got a point. These kids, these young adults, some of whom would otherwise struggle to get a job and desperately want education and experience to enter the workforce, they are the future. They’re why I’m here. They bring the career value for me, day in and day out. They make this work matter. Now they just need the investment, time, and work opportunities from businesses who are ready and willing to put stock in them. It’s their futures you can have a role in shaping, if you’re smart.

Here’s the practical bit business leaders often overlook: when you work with an FE college, your money doesn’t disappear into dividends or shareholder payouts. It goes straight back into our sports kit for our men’s and women’s netball, football, basketball, track and field, and tennis teams. When you hire our podcasting suite or green room, you’re helping keep the lights on. You’re helping us provide education in the latest makeup techniques for young people who want to kickstart a career in film. You’re funding bursaries, opportunities and work placements. The glue that gives these Londoners a chance.

With almost 950,000 young people not in education, employment, or training (NEET) right now, in the UK, that’s a serious problem that FE can fix, but we can’t do it alone.

Like what I’ve learned over the past few years from overcoming my addiction, it’s not a quick win. It’s a daily grind, a long term game. But like my regular sessions for gambling addicts, keeping it up is the key to success. Sometimes all you have to do is show up.

So if you remember one thing from this article, let it be this: Make your money matter.

Put your funding, time and energy into something actually valuable: helping the next generation of talent. I’ve found that further education delivers the most gratifying and long-term returns.

Short-term wins, whether in gambling or business, look exciting. But real social value is driven by improving others’ confidence, ability, and connecting with people. I’d rather see a formerly shy apprentice now confidently speak up in meetings, than plain figures on a spreadsheet.

Stop betting on quick wins, start investing in people. The return will walk into the room and introduce themselves. They might even be your boss someday.

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Reference:

Office for National Statistics. “Young people not in education, employment or training (NEET), UK: July to September 2025,” released 20 November 2025. Young people not in education, employment or training (NEET), UK - Office for National Statistics

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