In March, Google chief financial officer Patrick Pichette made headlines when he announced he was retiring to spend more time with his family. The news came as a surprise to most, but not to former tech CEO Bill Bumbernick, 41, who knows firsthand what it’s like to leave a high-pressure job at the top of your game. In 2011, he stepped off the corporate ladder to raise cows, chickens and crops on a 42-acre New Jersey farm with his family. Bumbernick tells Linley Taber his story.
It’s a frosty February night, and I’ve got one last farm chore before I turn in. I check the temperature outside — minus 3 degrees — pull on my fleece-lined jeans and work boots, and head out into the biting cold toward the cowshed.
There’s a thick layer of ice on the heifers’ water trough, and I break it up with a sledgehammer so they’ll be able to drink throughout the night.
I know I’ll be back to repeat the task at the crack of dawn.
It’s hard to believe that a few short years ago, I was the founder and CEO of a multimillion-dollar voice technology company with 52 employees and a jam-packed schedule.
If I wasn’t stuck behind the desk of my Philadelphia office, I was running to catch a flight to an endless string of conferences and client meetings held at five-star resorts all over the country.
You could often find me in a first-class seat wearing one of the designer suits my shopping consultant sent over — or at a swanky nightspot, like the Miami club where I once dropped $10,000 on bottle service to court a client.
It was excessive, yes, but it was part of the world I was working in.
I’d founded Alteva back in 1999. I loved going to work every day, building my own business and the thrill of the deal. But with three young kids at home, there were trade-offs. Most days, I was out the door at 6 or 7 a.m. — often before my daughter and two sons woke in the morning — and not home until close to 8 p.m.
By 2004, the company was growing 100 to 200 percent each year. It was intense and demanding. Still, it was my company, and I was making a $300,000-plus salary. I was doing it for my family, and I was lucky my wife, Megan, was able to leave her admin job to take on parenting duties.
“We’re in this together,” she and I would tell each other.
But deep down, I knew I was missing the everyday stuff — helping the kids with homework and cheering them on at soccer games. Because I wasn’t around for any of that, my conversations with them were pretty shallow.
Then, in 2011, a New York business called Warwick Valley Telephone Company approached me with a great offer to buy Alteva. It was exactly what Megan and I had dreamed about.
One day, during the final stages of the deal, one of their executives asked me if I planned on continuing working for the firm.
“I think so,” I said. “But give me a couple days to think about it.”
I’d never imagined leaving the world of technology, but the question made me think. After seven long months of negotiations, I was exhausted.
When I got home that night, I could see Megan was exhausted, too. With 8-, 7- and 5-year-old children, her life at home was as crazy as mine was at the office.
“Megan,” I said, when we got a quiet moment. “What if we just rode off into the sunset?”
An excited smile flashed across her face. “What exactly are you saying, Bill?”
“I’m 36 years old, the kids are young, and I have the opportunity to get back into their lives.”
“So you’d be here every day? Our family unit would be back together?” she asked.
I nodded. It would be a huge life change, but it only took a couple of days of soul-searching to reach an epiphany: I was tired of running so fast. I wanted to walk alongside my family instead.
So when the deal closed in August 2011 — I got the lion’s share of the $17.3 million sale price — I stepped off the corporate ladder to devote myself to Megan and our children.
The transition to stay-at-home dad wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. So much of my self-worth had been attached to my CEO role that I struggled with my new identity.
- Former CEO Bill Bumbernick
The transition to stay-at-home dad wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. So much of my self-worth had been attached to my CEO role that I struggled with my new identity. Plus, I didn’t have any plans for what I’d do next.
At first I splurged. I bought a Jaguar F-Type and, in late 2012, Megan and I purchased a 42-acre plot of land near our home in Mickleton, NJ, with hopes to build a new house on it.
We also started planning a family adventure of a lifetime: a six-month road trip around the US.
In January 2013, we packed up our kids and golden retriever into a motor home and embarked on a journey full of unforgettable moments: fly-fishing in Yellowstone and teaching my eldest son how to use a pocket knife in Texas.
Then, one day at a farmers market in Santa Barbara, Calif., my plans for the future came together all at once. A farmer told us about community-supported agriculture and how it allowed people to buy seasonal shares of a farm’s crops.
A light bulb went on: It seemed like the perfect use for the land we’d just purchased, and an amazing way to connect with our family and community. Megan and I looked at each other, riveted.
“This is it,” she said.
“Let’s do it,” I replied.
We immediately started hashing out plans for our own CSA, which we’d christen Cecil Creek Farm, after Megan’s father. We were so excited that even our financial planner’s objections couldn’t stop us.
“What are you doing?” he asked, when I told him about our plans. “This is crazy!”
True, I had no farming experience. But I knew two things: I could hire professionals to help us plan and run the farm; and any money I put into it — now close to $2 million — would go toward making a life for me and my family.
Megan and the kids were involved every step of the way, from plotting out the acreage for our 65 varieties of fruits and vegetables to planning the on-site market that we broke ground on last spring.
“You know the best thing about this?” I asked Megan one summer Saturday, watching our son lead his cousins to the strawberry patch. “People are going to eat this food we grew, with their families.”
Of course, the sheer amount of daily work can be overwhelming, even though we’ve hired eight full-time employees and have several seasonal volunteers.
My day starts at 5:30 a.m., and I’m doing everything from seeding crops to hauling compost to overseeing the farm-to-fork dinners we host at our market. And there’s always an unexpected problem popping up, like a failed crop of tomatoes or a horse with an infected hoof.
The change in me has been phenomenal: My stress level is virtually nonexistent.
- Bill Bumbernick
I’ve learned to let go of my Type A personality and roll with the punches.
Is the farming business lucrative? No. But we have hope for the Cecil Creek Farm and would love it to be self-sustaining in 10 years.
While I probably won’t get out all the money I put in, we look at it as an investment. (We’ve also invested in real estate and investing groups just to be safe.) And, with a fixed amount of money at our disposal, we’re more careful about spending. I’ve even traded my Jaguar for a Ford truck.
But the best thing to come out of our new life is my deeper relationship with my children.
I’m there for nightly homework sessions, and on weekends and during the summer they are out in the fields with me. I’m having real conversations with them. And the change in me has been phenomenal: My stress level is virtually nonexistent.
A lot of people tell me, “Man, you’re lucky. I wish I could do what you’ve done.”
“You can,” I tell them. Your adventure can be free: Go for a hike with your kids or take a bike ride. And if you have the means to leave the corporate world entirely, you should absolutely do it.
These days, especially during the amazing dinners we’ve been hosting, I look around and realize how much the farm is at the heart of my family.
There’s my wife, who’s helped the chef plan the menu; here are my sons, who’ve helped me plow the earth and feed the chickens; there is my daughter, proudly serving this food we’ve grown.
When I recently came across an article about Patrick Pichette leaving his job as Google’s CFO to spend more time with his family, my reaction was, “Right on.” You could tell the work-life balance struggle had plagued him before he was able to pull the trigger, and I can relate to that. But if he’s anything like me, he’ll look back with no regrets.