My Story
 

At the end of 2025, I found myself at a professional crossroads, as so many of us were.
 

Change had never frightened me before. If anything, I had always welcomed it.  A new adventure? Let’s go!  But this time felt different. Chillingly different.
 

Maybe it was caution arriving later in life than I expected.  Perhaps it was the first real weight of adulthood, though at sixty-one, that felt almost funny to admit.  Or maybe it was something quieter and harder to name: the possibility that it was time to step back, take inventory of all I had built, be grateful for what I had accomplished, and finally release some of the dreams I had carried for so long.​

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My story is not simply about starting a Salesforce consultancy later in life.  It is about refusing to let age, health, fear, changing technology or other disruptions decide when my relevance is over.  I actually wasn't even interested in starting a Salesforce consultancy.  It found me.​​​​

 

Funny story - My sister and I grew up thinking the saying was “It’s a doggy-dog world.” ​That sounded right to us — softer, kinder, almost playful. It was not until I was in my forties that I learned the actual saying was “It’s a dog-eat-dog world.”  Ew.

 

I have probably spent more time than necessary thinking about that misunderstanding, but the truth is, it shaped something important in me. I never wanted to live in a dog-eat-dog world. I wanted to believe there was another way to work, build, lead, and take care of people.

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So when I was let go from my last role toward the end of 2025, I was standing inside a very real professional crossroads — but I was also standing in front of an old question:

Was I going to accept the world as dog-eat-dog, or was I still willing to build something different?

 

At the same time, I did what any responsible adult does when life suddenly shifts beneath her feet: I put on my adult hat and sought advice from the people who know me best — my husband, my mother, and my sister. While I was trying to figure out what came next, something unexpected started happening. People began reaching out and asking if I had time to help them with small Salesforce needs.

 

​​At first, I was happy to volunteer my time. These were good people, and the requests felt manageable. But what changed everything was the freedom I suddenly had. I could have real conversations again. Meaningful conversations. Conversations where I was not being told I was “caring too much” or reminded to keep one eye constantly on the bottom line.​

 

That freedom mattered.​

 

Because the truth is, with the way my mind works, I do not know how to truly help someone unless I understand their business. I want to know what they are trying to build, what keeps them up at night, what frustrates their team, where the process breaks down, and sometimes, only half jokingly, what they eat for breakfast.​

 

That context changes everything.

 

​It changes how I hear a request, because people are not always asking for what they actually need. Often, the request is just the starting point. It is a clue. A signal. A window into their expectations, their pain points, and the outcome they are hoping someone will help them reach.

 

​As the work became more complex, I realized I needed someone more hands-on-keyboard technical than I was. There was someone in the Philippines I had worked with for years in different capacities. I trusted her. I respected her. And I knew she could help me serve these people well.​

 

So I asked her to help — but not for free.

 

​I paid her out of my own pocket, ensured there were no conflicts of interest, and I insisted on paying her more than the going local rate because I wanted her to feel the value I had for her, not just hear it.

 

​At the time, I did not know Nicole would become my future co-founder. I only knew that I trusted her, and that together we could take better care of the kind people who had placed their trust in me by asking for help.

 

​As the work increased, those same people began insisting on paying me. That meant I had to do the practical things required to start a real business.

 

First, I needed a name.

 

Ovalis is a coined name derived from “ovum,” meaning egg. To me, it represents the earliest stage of possibility — something balanced, delicate, protective, and full of potential.

 

At that point, I was still unsure exactly where this path would lead. So we moved forward cautiously, by referral only, controlling the pace of growth so we could protect the quality of the work, the relationships, and the culture we were beginning to build.

 

As demand continued to grow, we needed more help. And before we added people, we needed to answer a more important question:

 

If we were going to grow, who did we want to become?

 

The answer became our foundation: value culture over profit.

 

Not instead of profit.  

 

Over profit.

 

Because a business still needs to be sustainable. People need to be paid well. Customers need to receive value. The company needs to be healthy enough to keep its promises.

 

But I kept coming back to these questions: can we build a company that knows what “enough” means?  Could we create our own small world inside the egg — one that rejected the “dog-eat-dog” mentality and chose something more balanced, more human, and more intentional?

 

Those questions led me to think about greed, ambition, and the seven deadly sins. Not in a religious sense, but as a business reflection. What happens when companies are driven by pride, greed, envy, excess, anger, avoidance, or the constant pursuit of more?

 

And more importantly: what would the opposite look like?

 

That became the beginning of what we now think of as our Seven Business Virtues.

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With that foundation in place, we began growing the team intentionally.

 

Every person who joins Ovalis is invited in because they want the same kind of environment. We are not trying to build a company where people compete for status, information, or proximity to power. We are building one where people feel safe enough to contribute, responsible enough to be trusted, and valued enough to stay.

 

We grow carefully because what we are building is alive, always evolving, and worth protecting.

 

Everyone here matters equally. We may have different roles, responsibilities, and strengths, but no role is treated as less important to the whole. We share information openly. The finances are transparent. Decisions are made with trust, not control.

 

And when it comes time to add someone new, that decision belongs to the team.

 

Because we are not simply hiring people to do work.

 

We are inviting people into the house we are building together.

 

​And all of us are responsible for protecting what is growing inside.