The Price of FREE: Why I Decided to Charge
The Price of "Free": Why I Finally Put a Value on My Time
I started making investing videos seven years ago for one simple reason: when I began, nobody was there to walk me through the complexities. I had to figure it out alone, and I decided I wanted to be that guide for others.
I wanted to be the anti-finance bro.
My catchphrase was: “I don’t want your money. I want you to invest it.” I kept that word for seven years.
I didn’t come from a high-net-worth family. I didn’t go to college. My original dream was to be a pro wrestler until I broke my back during training. I lived at home into my mid-20s, working minimum wage jobs in restaurants and gyms.
When I started creating content, I balanced it with active trading. But over time, the videos became the passion. Two years ago, I decided to go all-in. I stopped trading to focus on the community—and as a result, I stopped making money.
The "Just Film Videos" Myth
People think being a content creator is easy. They say, “Just film videos.” In reality, my daily "to-do" list looks like this:
Daily Grind: Hunting for new ideas every single day and sifting through market data.
Production: Scripting, filming, capturing data screenshots, and editing graphics.
Distribution: Posting and cross-promoting across YouTube, Instagram, and Facebook.
Community Management: Managing hundreds of comments a day.
I never wanted to be an influencer; I wanted to help people. But alongside the thoughtful questions are dozens of insults every day. Fat. Bald. Ugly. Stupid … and worse. Sprinkle in a few death threats. You can ignore it for a week; it’s a lot harder to ignore after seven years.
The Scale Problem
At 30,000 followers, I could answer every DM. At 800,000, it’s impossible.
Every week, I receive "whole life story" messages—15 paragraphs detailing tragedies, debt, and medical bills—asking for comprehensive financial advice. I’m not a financial advisor. I cannot legally or ethically give that advice, and I physically cannot respond to everyone.
I realized some people interpreted “free content” as “free unlimited access to me.” That was never sustainable.
Why I Changed
This isn’t defensive; it’s transparent. After seven years of giving everything away, I decided to put a few deep-dive resources behind a small paywall.
And then I panicked.
I was so afraid of being called a "sellout" that I set a one-time, lifetime price of just $10. I thought I was being fair until a friend gave me a reality check.
He asked, “How many years have you been doing this?” I told him: “Investing for 26 years, trading for 15.” He replied, “You’ve consolidated decades of knowledge into these guides. $10 isn’t just cheap—it’s an insult to your expertise. Not to mention, if you’re already feeling burnt out, charging $10 for lifetime access will make you more resentful when people feel entitled to 24/7 access to you for the price of a sandwich.”
He was right. I had made an emotional decision based on fear rather than a business decision based on value. I realized that if I didn’t put a price on my time, people would assume it had none.
The New Standard
I had to pivot again. I moved the membership to $59/year. For the 500+ people who locked in the $10 one time rate, you’re good. You will never be billed again. You’re locked in at $10. Let’s just call you the Founding Members.
And then, in typical I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to monetizing a channel fashion, I changed my mind AGAIN. I cannot STAND subscriptions. We have enough subscriptions. We have to subscribe to movies, news, apps, music, and now … me?
So, I changed my mind AGAIN. At $59/year, it was only $5/mo, but I realized I didn’t want to be a part of the system I couldn’t stand. I wanted people to OWN my products, not rent access to them.
So the final change was to price everything at $25. Not per month. Not per year. Once.
I know some will say I’m "going back on my word." But the choice became simple: add a paywall to the deep-dive resources, or quit and go back to trading full-time.
I chose to keep building this.
The small paywall creates fairness. It reduces burnout. It provides the financial support I need to keep the majority of my content free for the millions who need it.
I’ve learned that while messages saying I changed someone’s life mean everything to me, they don't pay the bills. Helping people is my mission, but this is also my job. And for the mission to continue, the job has to pay.
