The next week, an email from a local non‑profit landed in my inbox. They’d heard—through Morgan, I suspected—that I had strong opinions about financial literacy and stronger ones about predatory ‘influencer’ contracts. Would I teach a Saturday workshop for first‑gen college students on building credit and spotting scams? I said yes. It was the most satisfying two hours of my summer: a whiteboard, a room of hungry faces, and a stack of myth‑busting handouts I designed at 2 a.m. They left with budgets and a group text called “Compound Queens,” and I left with a feeling I’d been chasing since the day I dialed that seventh call: the feeling that what I knew could be useful beyond my kitchen table.