US Tax Obligations for Canadian-Based Jobs

 In both cases, the peeps you're talking to are usually responding out of feels—either tryna make you feel good or tryna make themselves feel good (or at least justify their own risk aversion). Neither does you much good at all, fam. So, like, check out these two wild stories, both about butterflies, but with totally different outcomes, ya know? Mel and Patricia Ziegler were so over their high-key stressful, low-key low-wage jobs. One issue with listening to your squad is that they might totally kill the vibe of your lit adventure. But the opposite problem is equally bad: Your friends might gas you up. And if ur dream is to make jam, that butter might be hella tempting.

Alison Roman and Eva Scofield were coworkers at Brooklyn's lit Momofuku Milk Bar who were totally vibing with the artisanal food wave that was taking over their hood. 

OMG, when they got the opportunity to flex at Brooklyn Flea, the lit AF market that's all about that farm-to-table vibe, they were like, "Yasss, count me in!" They started testing recipes in off-hours; each chipped in a couple hundo for ingredients. Finally they came up with a winner: lit organic fruit jams with mad unique flavors—vanilla-lemon, grapefruit-hibiscus. One lit jar caught Roman's eye: It was hella well-made, stunning, but, at $1.85 a pop, mad pricey. Things were hella chill at first. The jams were fire, fam. Friends were like, "Yasss, you gotta raise those prices!" They went from a pricey $7 to a straight-up cray $9 per jar. "Handmade in Brooklyn with local fruit" totally slayed and had a massive squad of peeps. People were totally hyped about those jars, like they were straight fire. Maiden Preserves seemed like yet another glow-up story, sis. But like, the tea was way more bitter. The company never even flexed. "Friends would be like, 'Y'all are killing it,'" Roman said. "Nah, we ain't gonna"

He was a reporter, she was a courtroom sketch artist. Periodt. 

They were young, like, totally head over heels for each other, and little did they know, they both ghosted their jobs on the same day, hoping to live that free-spirited, jet-setting life. First they got clowned; then they peeped a book on how to flex a business; then, out of nowhere, Mel scored a freelance writing gig in Australia. OMG, so Mel was like on the hunt for some mad cheap clothes in Sydney, right? And then, out of nowhere, they stumbled upon this sick secondhand British Burma jacket. It was lit! "OMG, this jacket was like, made of thicc but soft khaki cotton twill. It totally gave off safari vibes," he remembered. "It had the vibes of a boujee fit, like a fire fit." He flexed it with an olive green Aussie bush hat, fam. Patricia like totally didn't even recognize her clothes-averse boyfriend when he walked through customs two weeks later. "Something was hella different," she said. "Did he get this sick new vibe, this totally epic chillness from his wild adventures Down Under, or was it the jacket?" OMG, she was totally shook by its "on point color" and "lowkey worn collar and cuffs," so she started flexing on the jacket, adding some suede elbow patches, leather trim, and wooden buttons. Patricia and Mel's wacky idea, Banana Republic, has blown up to over six hundred stores worldwide. Five years after Mel first copped that thrifted jacket, the couple flexed and sold their company to the Gap and dipped to chase their dreams of freedom and artistry. A key reason Gap was like, "OMG, Banana Republic is lit!" is because their eccentric, chatty, hand-illustrated catalogs were totally blowing up. Had the Zieglers like, actually listened to their friends, they would've never even considered taking it off the drawing board, tbh.

Mel wore it like, literally every day, and like, everywhere he went, people were like, totally stopping him. "Where'd you cop that fire jacket?"

"The jacket was like, sending me a message," he was like, "and it didn't take me long to vibe with it: this was the business we'd been searching for." Patricia got the same tea, too. They dropped $750 on a lit collection of pre-owned, flex-worthy Spanish paratrooper shirts (the British Burma jackets were hella rare and, even second-hand, way too expensive). Mel and Patricia were like, "This is our stop-planning, start-doing moment, fam: 'That's the whole business plan of a writer and artist who dipped from their jobs to make it on their own.'" After a few lit afternoons flexing their stuff at a flea market, the couple decided to spend their remaining cash on a homemade catalog filled with Patricia's fire hand-drawn illustrations and Mel's quirky, chatty dialogue. (Mel called himself the propaganda minister, lol.) The squad was hyped to flex their lit creation, straight outta the printer, to their two homies. After flipping through the pages, one friend was like, "You don't expect this to sell anything, do you?" The other was like, "You sure you wanna send this?" OMG, Patricia was so shook! She turned to Mel after they dipped and asked if they should bounce. "We can't turn back now," he said, fam.