Bridge the Gap

In the summer of 2022, James Foster walked out of the glass doors of the marketing firm where he had worked for six years. A box of desk belongings in his hand and a knot in his stomach, he wasn’t sure what stung more—the sudden layoff or the fact that he hadn’t seen it coming.

He was 38, a father of two, and for the first time in over a decade, unemployed.

For weeks, James did what most people do between jobs: he refreshed job boards, updated his LinkedIn, and sent out carefully crafted resumes. He watched webinars on interview techniques and wrote tailored cover letters. But as the silence stretched on, anxiety crept in. It wasn’t just about money—it was about purpose.

One evening, while cleaning the garage, James found a dusty box labeled “Old Sketches & Ideas.” Inside were notebooks filled with doodles, brand ideas, product names, and mock advertisements—remnants of a dream he had shelved long ago.

Before the corporate life, James had once fantasized about launching his own business—a digital branding service that helped small, local businesses build a modern presence without the high agency fees. But life had gotten busy, the paycheck had been steady, and the dream had faded into a “maybe someday.”

Now, with time on his hands and nowhere to report to on Monday, “someday” suddenly looked like today.

James gave himself 30 days. “Just try,” he told himself. No huge investments, no quitting the job search entirely—just a window to explore. He called his venture Bridge Branding—a name inspired by his current situation: between jobs, between identities, building a bridge from one life to the next.

He started simple. He created a logo using free design tools and built a clean, one-page website explaining his services. He reached out to friends, former colleagues, and small business owners in his community, offering free consultations in exchange for testimonials. Within two weeks, he had his first paying client: a local bakery looking to revamp its online presence.

James poured his energy into the project. He treated it like a full-time job—not just because he wanted it to succeed, but because for the first time in months, he felt alive. The thrill of creating, the challenge of problem-solving, and the joy of helping real people all reminded him why he’d fallen in love with marketing in the first place.

One client led to another. Then another. A florist. A yoga studio. A custom furniture maker. His service struck a nerve—these were business owners who didn’t have time to figure out branding but couldn’t afford big agencies. James became their secret weapon.

By month three, James stopped applying for jobs. Bridge Branding wasn’t just a project anymore—it was a business. A real one. He registered the LLC, hired a freelance graphic designer to help with growing demand, and began offering monthly content services alongside brand packages.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. There were nights he doubted himself, moments of imposter syndrome, and hard lessons in client communication and scope creep. He missed the predictability of a paycheck. But every time doubt crept in, he’d look at the testimonials piling up, or the referral emails coming in with the subject line “So-and-so said you’re amazing,” and he’d remember why he started.

One year after he walked out of his old office, James found himself standing in a different space—this time, a small co-working studio he’d just rented. He looked out the window and smiled. His income had not only replaced his old salary—it had surpassed it. But more importantly, he had built something of his own. Something that mattered.

Bridge Branding wasn’t born in a boardroom. It wasn’t backed by venture capital or launched with fanfare. It was born in the quiet, uncertain space between jobs—fueled by necessity, curiosity, and a willingness to start small.

James’s story reminds us that the time between jobs doesn’t have to be a void. It can be fertile ground. It can be where dreams resurface, where ideas mature, where courage grows. That “in-between” space, uncomfortable as it may be, can be a bridge—not a breakdown.

You just have to be willing to build it.