What Drives Me To Work For Myself

My supervisor called me into the little room.
We were auditing a major metropolitan hospital in Miami.
As CPA's, we were called in to examine the financial statements of enterprises, like hospitals and give our opinion whether their numbers fairly represented their activities.
My opinion?
I would rather be reading or writing or doing something else.
But what?
That would come in time.
Today, I had to deal with this pompous character. Whatever did he want?
I have been watching you, he shared with me.
You will either tell the firm or I will.
What was he talking about?
You know where I am coming from.
Actually, I have no idea I confided.
Then this moron of a man proceeded to tell me that he was positive I was smoking weed and he was prepared to ruin my career that very day.
I stared at him as if I was about to do harm to him.
I never have smoked weed in my life and if you ever address me again about your dumb observations, if you ever share anything with me that is not business related, I will hurt you.
With that, I left him to his stupidity.
Maybe on that day, in my 20's, that humid, miserable day in a dreary, drab hospital setting which depressed the hell out of me, I made a promise to myself.
I needed to work for myself.
I needed to answer to only one man.
Otherwise, surely, I would begin to die inside.
How much longer could I live like this?
How much longer could I ignore what was raging inside of me?