I had saved a lot of money working at Mrs. Fields' Chocolate Chip

In the words of B. D. Wong, “I had saved a lot of money working at Mrs. Fields' Chocolate Chip Cookies, ushering at the Golden Gate Theatre, and doing odd jobs so I could live in New York for a few months. If it ran out, I would have to give up and go home. It turned out OK. I got my Equity card and started working.” — we find a story not merely of success, but of faith, preparation, and endurance. His words, humble and plain, conceal the timeless spirit of all who dare to dream in the face of uncertainty. In them lies the wisdom of the ages: that great achievements are not born in comfort, but in the willingness to risk everything for one’s purpose.

The origin of this quote reaches back to the beginnings of Wong’s career, when he stood on the edge of ambition, young and uncertain, yet filled with quiet resolve. Like so many before him, he was drawn to New York, that ancient symbol of artistic trial — a modern Olympus where the bold test their courage and the faint-hearted fall away. He was not yet the acclaimed actor he would become, but simply a worker with a pocketful of savings and a heart full of hope. The Equity card he speaks of — the mark of entry into the professional world of theatre — is here transformed into a symbol of triumph, not because it came easily, but because it was earned through humility and perseverance.

His journey recalls the stories of the ancient apprentices, who left home and kin to seek mastery of their craft. In every age, there are those who stand at this threshold — the border between the known and the unknown — armed only with their skills and a fragile belief in their destiny. Like the wandering scholars of old, who journeyed to Athens or Alexandria with only a few coins and their hunger for knowledge, B. D. Wong set forth not because success was guaranteed, but because the pursuit itself was sacred. His labor at cookie shops and theatres was not degradation, but discipline — the proving ground of patience and purpose. For the wise know that no task is beneath those who serve their dream with devotion.

There is a deeper current flowing through his words: the balance between preparation and surrender. He worked, he saved, he planned — yet he also accepted that failure was possible. “If it ran out, I would have to give up and go home.” This is not defeatism; it is realism shaped by courage. The ancients would have recognized in this the virtue of fortitude — the understanding that the outcome is never certain, but the effort must still be made. To take a step forward despite doubt is the essence of bravery. And, as Wong’s story shows, it is often at the edge of surrender that destiny reveals itself. The money might have run out, the dream might have died — yet it did not. It “turned out OK” because he walked the narrow path between fear and faith.

His words remind us that success is rarely the thunderclap of fate; it is more often the slow accumulation of small acts of persistence. Every cookie sold, every ticket torn at the theatre, every odd job done was a seed of preparation, each one bringing him closer to his calling. In the story of B. D. Wong, we hear echoes of countless creators who began in obscurity: the sculptor who chipped stone in silence, the poet who copied manuscripts by candlelight, the inventor who built in barns and basements. Their greatness did not lie in their starting points, but in their refusal to yield when the world offered no certainty.

Consider the tale of Michelangelo, who began not in marble palaces but in dusty workshops, apprenticed to those who barely noticed him. He too labored at small tasks, sweeping floors, mixing paint, carving minor figures — yet each humble effort prepared his hands for the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Like Wong, he might have gone home, unknown and forgotten, but he stayed, he endured, and he became eternal. The pattern is ancient and unchanging: the road to mastery begins in obscurity, and the first reward of perseverance is not fame, but transformation of the soul.

And so, from B. D. Wong’s journey, we may draw this lesson: every dream demands both humility and endurance. One must be willing to work small jobs to build a great future, to labor in shadows so that one day the light might find you ready. The wise do not despise their beginnings; they honor them. For the one who learns discipline in ordinary tasks is the one who will stand firm in extraordinary trials. Let his story remind us that success is not an accident of fate but the reward of steadfast hearts.

To those who stand today at the threshold of their own dreams, remember this truth: the road ahead may be uncertain, and your savings — of money, strength, or faith — may run low. Yet walk it still. Do the work before you, with hands steady and spirit clear. For when you give your best to the present moment, destiny, in her time, will meet you there. As B. D. Wong discovered, when one dares to begin with sincerity and perseverance, it will indeed — as the ancients would say — turn out as it was meant to be.