How To Make $1 Million Before You Graduate

These whippersnappers have business in their blood.

In Pictures: 15 Wunderkinds Who Made $1 Million Before Graduation--And The Ideas That Got Them There

Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Michael Dell, Steve Jobs, Ted Turner: All these leading lights famously ditched college to pursue their entrepreneurial dreams.

Then there are those lesser-known preternatural wealth-builders who manage to cobble million-dollar enterprises before they graduate from college by age 22--and some who did it much earlier than that.
Cracking the million-dollar mark is no mean feat for any entrepreneur, let alone one who may not be old enough to legally saddle up to a bar in the U.S.
Forbes interviewed 15 of these super-strivers. (For a gallery of their photos and short profiles, click here.) Here the million-dollar measure refers to either the annual revenue generated by their businesses (as opposed to total profit) or the value of the enterprises built as implied by the companies' financing arrangements. Example: If an investor paid $100,000 for a 10% equity stake in a young company, the enterprise is said to be worth $1 million (assuming it carries no debt).
In Pictures: 15 Wunderkinds Who Made $1 Million Before Graduation--And The Ideas That Got Them There

How did these whippersnappers pull it off? Some of them identified problems and created companies to solve them, while others turned their hobbies into money-making ventures. Some teamed up with friends, parents and mentors; others plowed ahead on their own.

Here's a look at a few:
Autocricket
In the summer of 2008, after his high school graduation, Jason Brian started working in the marketing department of a South Florida car dealership. He knew the future of marketing was on the Web. "With half of the money, I found that I could double the results," buying online ads and using search engine optimization techniques, he recalls. Three years later, at age 21, Brian spent "less than $10,000" of his savings to build a website that would help consumers look for cars.
Autocricket.com made money by selling customers' information to dealers and manufacturers, which could market to customers directly. Six months after launch the site attracted the attention of two entrepreneurs in Naples, Fla., who invested $250,000. The site generated $1.2 million in revenue in 2009, when Brian was 22. In 2010 it did $6 million.
Showclix
In 2005, when he was 18, Joshua Dziabiak sold his first company--a Web hosting firm called Mediacatch--for north of $1 million. He bought a Mercedes (in cash) and a flat-screen TV, and used the rest to invest in other companies, including Showclix, his current venture, a website that lets performing arts centers, colleges, live music venues and other outlets sell tickets online, over the phone and at their box offices. In 2009 he raised nearly $1 million, which valued the company at $2.75 million. Showclix collects services fees (usually paid by the ticket buyer) of 7% to 15% of ticket sales. Those fees brought in $9 million last year.

Solben
Twenty-year-old Daniel Gómez Iñiguez launched Solben, a company that designs and manufactures a press that extracts oil from plants to produce diesel fuel. Iñiguez began his R&D in high school. He sold to his first client for $150,000--$75,000 up front to help build the product, followed by $75,000 upon delivery. The Monterrey, Mexico, company brought in "a little over $1 million" in revenue during its first year of business. Today it employs 15 full-time staff; Iñiguez is entering his junior year of college.

Watch List: Tartufi Unlimited
Three years ago, at age 15, Ian Purkayastha started importing truffles and selling them, for up to $5,000 a pound, to restaurants and fine food shops from his home in Fayetteville, Ark. Purkayastha grew up in Houston, where as a young boy he foraged for wild mushrooms in the forests near his parents' home. Importing truffles is tricky work, involving four different federal agencies and a race against time: Truffles have a shelf life of only seven days. Purkayastha is opening a truffle orchard in Arkansas--the first in the U.S.--and has "close to $1 million in sales."
Honorable Mention: Astor and Black
When David Schottenstein graduated from Oholei Torah Rabbinical Seminary at age 20, he hadn't yet made his first million--but he was well on his way. In 2004, at age 21, Schottenstein started a custom suit company at his home in Columbus, Ohio. With $75,000 he had pocketed day-trading in high school, he went to Hong Kong and lined up factories to manufacture custom "Zegna-quality" suits, listed at a fraction of competitors' prices and sold by haberdashers door-to-door. During its first full year of business Astor and Black generated $562,000 in sales. Last year it did $20.5 million.

A Blessing Or Curse?

As a journalist, I’m paid to observe others and communicate their challenges and successes, but sometimes the story hits closer to home. At 25-years-old and a reporter at a major-media company, my age seems constantly a topic of conversation. That’s why, when my editor tasked me with writing a series about youth in the office, I knew I wouldn’t need to look far. This is my story.
When I was near 5-years-old, the only child of a single, working mother, I was bored and dying to start school. However, the way the Florida education system was set up, you had to be age 5 by September 1. I begged my mom to let me go, who in turn begged the school to take me, but I was a month and half too young.
The school board told my mother it was a blessing. The older children usually had an advantage, they said. They may have been right. I loved learning and made an A in every class all the way up through college, except ninth-grade health (skipped too much), 10th-grade woodshop (talked too much) and 11th-grade yoga (still not sure what happened there). When I decided I wanted to accomplish something, I usually did. I became used to succeeding among my peers.
In my first full-time internship at a well-known magazine, still in college at age 20, I expected I’d be fetching coffee. I also promised myself that I’d try to make a mark. I got in early, read multiple newspapers a day, spoke up and pitched stories. I surprised myself when I pulled off multi-page print features and well-received online pieces. One longtime staff writer wasn’t as pleased. “In my day, interns didn’t do this kind of work,” she told me. You skipped the line, her eyes said.
I landed my first salaried magazine job the day after I graduated and started work the following week. I was lucky, people told me. I was 22. Invariably lost in the building the first few weeks, people would smile sympathetically in the halls and ask if I was an intern. I’d assumed my age would be an issue, so wore a rotation of blasé collared shirts and dress pants. But you can’t hide your face.

A month or so in, one of my female bosses called me to her office to tell me specifically to stop looking like an intern. She suggested I cut my hair. I felt it was more mean-girl than mentor but decided she had a point. I cut my hair. I continued building a closet of professional clothes and remained even-keeled. I wasn’t happy, but I had a job to do and was doing it well. I continued about my business.
I’ve put on a few more years since, but basically look the same. It would be hard not to look young being 5’2”, round-faced and non-committal when it comes to heels. At a recent soccer game, in a T-shirt and light makeup, I was pegged at 17. When I put on my big-girl pants and eyeliner, I pass more vaguely as a 20-something—not necessarily a term of endearment. As a group we’ve been called spoiled, entitled, stuck, lost, emerging, narcissistic and addicted to tech.
Yet, my mother calls my young face one of those “good problems.” And at times it has worked to my advantage. Bosses affectionately call me “kid,” “kiddo” and “young lady,” and take the time to offer encouragement and advice. One told me point-blank that when she looked at me she saw her daughter; she promoted me a few months later. When I show up for TV segments, the producers seem pleased by my “fresh face,” and the other reporters lean close, brows furled in wonderment. You’re so young, they say. I can approach almost anyone under the guise of mentorship. They want to help.
Outside the industry, subjects and sources often feel the need to point out their age in comparison to mine. Maybe I make them feel old. One subject tried to use my age to discredit me, so I knew I was getting to her. Others open up, let their guard down, say too much. In my reporting, if my not being intimidating helps, hey, I’ll take it.
“Never let them tell you your age is a problem,” one seasoned reporter told me last year. I know now that there’s something every generation has to offer—to a story, to a team, to a workplace. If I’ve managed to be successful despite my age or in light of it, it doesn’t matter. I am one of the lucky ones.
This is the first post in a series that will examine youth in the office, in the words of young workers themselves and others around them. Please share your own insights and experiences in the comments section below.

True Tales Of A 26-Year-Old Receptionist

This was told to me by a 26-year-old woman working as a receptionist at a New York City financial firm, who asked to remain anonymous. This post is part of a series on youth in the office.
I feel like the office slave. I answer phones, order lunch, give people their mail. All the assistants here are female and almost everybody else is male. Some of them like to complain a lot. Some of them think they’re special.

The other day one guy accusingly informed me there was no hot sauce left in the refrigerator. Another dropped by to ask, “Is there a reason that the water cooler has become unplugged?” When the microwave blew a fuse, I had to find the circuit breaker, and when the coffee machine broke, that was somehow my fault too. I’m not even that good with technology. How did this become my life?
They look at me and think I’m stupid, but I have a degree from one of the best schools in the country. I wanted to be a musician. I came to New York, graduated with honors from a renowned music program and saw myself playing in an orchestra. I was planning my future with a man. We’d both work to scrape by while I pursued my music. It might be hard, but we’d be together. I had all these romantic visions, and then reality hit.

He died suddenly in an accident. The year after that was the lost year of my life. I stopped playing and worked as a waitress in my hometown. I was forced to reevaluate everything, and I wasn’t sure that I could do it on my own. Music wasn’t practical. You have to be the best, and I questioned whether I wanted it enough.
I didn’t really want to be home. I missed him. I missed the city and my friends. I decided to move back to New York City and get a job—any job—and figure it out. I took a minimum wage retail position, and then did a series of temp jobs at cosmetic, jewelry, and financial companies. I learned how to use the phone and Microsoft Outlook.
One of the temp jobs led to an administrative assistant position in the music industry, but my bosses were freaks. The first would yell about every little thing. When she walked into a room, everyone parted to let her pass. When I went to her office to ask her something, she would say, “You wait until I look at you before you speak.” She was going to anger management classes after work.
The other boss was bi-polar, nice one minute and crazy the next. She loved to fire people—security guards, assistants, people in the mailroom. Once she asked me to messenger her lunch from the office to her home in Connecticut. When she wanted to yell at an assistant over the phone, she would ask to be put on speaker so that everyone in the office could hear. I hated it, and I wanted out.

That’s how I ended up here. It probably was not a good career move because I demoted myself. But I get paid more, and they yell less. I am, however, bored out of my mind. And I feel like I get blamed for everything as if I’m totally incompetent.
I’m supposed to interrupt meetings to ask if anyone wants a drink. It’s completely awkward, and no one ever wants one. I’ve had to field phone calls from people’s taxidermists and about their private jet planes. One time, one of the guys accidentally butt-dialed the office. He was screaming and cursing at his girlfriend, saying, “I just bumped into you; I didn’t hit you!”

A lot of times I’m just browsing the internet. When I’ve read every story and gone through Facebook three times already, that’s when I start wondering what’s next.
I know if I did anything in the performing arts I wouldn’t make any money. Sometimes I fantasize about marrying a rich guy and being able to pursue music. I wouldn’t have to worry about money and maybe I could be really good.
My worst fear is that I’d stay a receptionist forever—although I’d rather answer phones at a hospital that helps people than for traders making billions. I’ve spent a lot time thinking about what I should do. I’ve crossed finance off my list. I was considering accounting, so I went to the library and checked out Accounting for Dummies. I started reading it and thought: No way.
I like the idea of health care, but don’t think I could deal with blood or cleaning up after people. That’s how I came across physical therapy, which I think I could like. But I’ve recently been leaning towards being a paralegal because I think it might be interesting and it would cost less to get certified.
I really like to travel. I’ve thought about going abroad and teaching English, especially now since I’m young. But I also wonder if I should stay in one place for awhile to establish myself. There are just so many options now it can feel overwhelming.
I don’t know what I want, but I know I want my job to mean something. I want to use my brain more. I want to go to work and do something that I’m proud of, that improves people’s lives. If I have to hop around for awhile, that’s okay. Because even if I do a job or take a class and don’t like it, I know it was worth something.
This is the sixth post in a series that examines youth in the office, in the words of young workers themselves and others around them. Please share your own insights and experiences in the comments section below.
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The 8 Things You Do Wrong On LinkedIn

Some years ago, I was chatting with a prospective employer, sharing tales of my experiences and selling him on the many reasons he should hire me, and doing it by using very specific examples. At one point in the conversation he turned quickly around in his chair and started furiously typing. As it turned out, he was Googling me mid-interview to learn if what I was telling him was true (it was true, and I snagged the job).
If this hasn’t happened to you in an interview, don’t think it hasn’t happened in one shape or form. Because even if you don’t witness them doing it, I can almost guarantee they do indeed, Google you.
What are they looking for? Not your Facebook page (although if you don’t have that blocked, they will definitely enjoy the read). Not your dating profile (if they did, that‘s actually über creepy). Instead, what they’re looking for is your online professional presence. And in today’s world, you need to have one out there for them to find.
For many (and I dare say, most) professions, an online professional profile will only help you. And until someone rolls in with something better, the best place to go to build one is LinkedIn.
If you have a profile on LinkedIn already, kudos! But this isn’t really about that. You should have already created one of those years ago. If you haven’t, you should Google around for some tips and tricks for building a great page. Then circle back over here.
This is about using your profile correctly — and to your advantage. Because in the corporate world, people read into things. Including the things you’re doing on sites like these. So here are the top eight things you might be doing wrong on LinkedIn.
1) You don’t have any recommendations. If a hiring manager is scoping out your LinkedIn profile and doesn’t see a recommendation, they might think, “Hmm…no one likes their work,” or “They must not have impressed anyone,” or even, “Umm, this is a dud networker.”
The Fix: Get some recommendations, duh. If you haven’t tried it yet, that’s your homework for today. Send out a request for a recommendation to at least five people you’ve worked with or currently work with (check your company policy). You’ll be surprised at how willing, honest and complimentary people will be of your work (granted, that’s if you’ve impressed them in the past – I don’t recommend you sending a request to an enemy).
2)  You get a flood of recommendations. One word. Shady. If you get a flood of recommendations one day, we’re all going to know you’re looking for a job. More often than not, job searching occurs under the radar. Well, broadcasting a bunch of recommendations all at the same time is the complete opposite of that.
The Fix: I know what you’re thinking, “I need recommendations to get a job, but you’re telling me not to get a bunch of them!” The trick is to always be looking for recommendations, even when you’re satisfied with your job. That way, when you’re not satisfied, you’re already set. If you’ve done great work for a client, ask them for a recommendation via LinkedIn as soon as the project is completed. If you leave a job for another, ask all your former colleagues to give you a shout out. There are lots of ways and reasons to get recommendations, get creative.
3) You lie. This one is pretty self-explanatory, and yet, for some it’s hard to follow. In all business settings, if you lie, you will eventually get caught.
The Fix: The best fix to this one is to just simply not to do it. Karma is…well…you know.
4) You flirt. I don’t think women have a problem with this one, but men seem to. I know it’s hard to date a modern woman, I get it. We tend to know exactly what we want, when we want it and how to avoid you if you’re not offering how or what we want. On the one hand, the LinkedIn profile might look so juicy and attractive – how could you not write her? But on the other hand, approaching said modern woman in their professional setting (albeit an online one), isn’t ok. Even if you craft a message that would blow even Shakespeare out of the water (although, it’s questionable why you would choose that route), you probably won’t get a call back. If she’s serious about being on the site for business purposes, you will have a hard time chipping away at that. In simpler terms, don’t be a creep.
The Fix: Take your party elsewhere. If you see someone on LinkedIn that you find attractive, find another way. Or connect to them and actually be professional and strike up a real networking relationship (I realize you’re doing this with ulterior motives, but you’ll get better results and a business acquaintance in the process). There are better places to go to find someone to date.

 5) You don’t describe your job. Hmm, “specialist.” That means so many different things. And when you don’t describe it, we have no idea what you’re talking about or what you do from 8-5 p.m. every day. The main point here is that you don’t want a blank piece a paper with job titles, it doesn’t help you at all.

The Fix: When I chose this as one of the eight “wrongs,” I actually got conflicting feedback from some folks about how best to share details about your experience. Some said it was ok to list job titles only, and then put the description in the summary at the top of the overall profile. Some said it was best to describe each job, as if building a résumé. When it comes down to it, either of these works, you just have to do one of them so people know you actually work.
6) You don’t post a picture. No, it’s not a beauty contest (and actually, if you use a glamour shot-esque photo, you may get laughed off the interwebs). But a picture is definitely worth a thousand words. We’re not going to judge you, we just want transparency from you. If visuals weren’t important in the business world, you would get every job by simply going through a telephone interview (wouldn’t that be nice?). LinkedIn is very much the same way. Because it has the photo feature, you should be using it. We want to see who we’re working with, networking with and introducing ourselves to – we are visual creatures.
The Fix: Ask a talented amateur photographer friend to snap a few pictures of you. Trust me, they’ll be more than willing and you’ll reap the rewards. While you’re at it, go ahead and use those pictures to create an About.me page. It’s a lesser-known site, but one where you can make some great connections while also showing off a bit more personal flair than LinkedIn will allow.
7) You don’t have any “stuff.” You don’t have to be a renaissance corporate-America person with tons of medals, awards and lots of extra-curricular activities, but it helps add a little personality to you if you’ve got some extra “stuff” listed in your profile. Everyone has something they can add to their profile, a hobby, an award they’ve won, school organization they led, put something there. If reading this has made you suddenly realize you don’t have anything to put there because you work too much – you need to change that. Having a life outside of work makes you marketable.
The Fix: This one is easy. Think about your hobbies, your organizations, what you do for fun, and list them. It shows that you’re human and that you enjoy life. Then list any awards you’ve won at work and any professional affiliations you may have. Then go out and join a few LinkedIn groups (like this one), start a few discussions and get active. LinkedIn is an amazing way to network if you take advantage of its offerings.
8) You change your profile top to bottom. This falls in line with the recommendations. If you’re making massive changes to your LinkedIn profile all at once, that tech-savvy employer will get suspicious. What’s worse, is that anyone you’re linked up to will get a notification that you’ve changed your profile drastically – so if they don’t notice it when you do it, they’ll notice it then.
The Fix: Don’t do any major fixes to your profile all at once, be strategic about it. Make changes gradually and smartly (or if you’re not going to be smart about it, make your settings private). You have colleagues who keep an eye on your profile regularly (I promise). If you really are job searching, don’t give them something to gossip about.

Article by Molly Cain, is a banker, CEO of GlassHeel.com, and an award-winning communicator with a passion for bringing a bit of creativity and humor into the workplace. When she’s not at the office or on Glass Heel, Molly’s running half-marathons, traveling or hanging out with her retired racing greyhounds. Follow Molly on Twitter @MollyCain.