The Pivot Nobody Glamorizes

Some will call it quitting. I call it rerouting.

If you’re new here, this newsletter is named after Doc, the hot dog guy outside my local hardware store.

He doesn’t have a lead magnet.

He doesn’t have a funnel.

He doesn’t have a single fucking KPI.

What he has is a line of people every afternoon, waiting—not for gourmet, not for innovation, not for disruption—but for something that makes them feel full in a way the world forgot how to serve.

A hot dog.

A smile.

A meeting place.

A second to catch your breath.

And if that man looked me dead in the eyes and said…

“Dre, I need a Chief Marketing Officer”

… I would launch my LLC into orbit like that all-female flight to nowhere + scream:

“TONGS UP, DUDE. I’M FUCKING IN!”

Because that’s the dream now.

To find my Doc.

I don’t want to be the owner anymore.

I don’t want to fund the cart anymore.

I want to be the one handing out mustard packets with a smirk + a crazy, fun idea… who clocks out and enjoys life when work hours are over.

The one who knows how to make people feel something, not because I own the thing, but because I believe in it so much I can’t help but throw my entire creative self into it.

Because here’s the truth no one wants to say out loud in this bedazzled graveyard of online business advice:

We’re living in an economically fucked-up time.

Groceries + bills cost what rent used to.

Insurance is a whole other mortgage.

Healthcare is a luxury.

And still, we’re being told that if our what-the-fuck-ever didn’t convert, it must be because we didn’t niche hard enough or nurture long enough.

The real problem is we’ve been taught to internalize capitalism’s failures as personal ones.

And ignore that the game is rigged, and we need more than gratitude that we get to play out of it.

It blows my mind that Instagram will ban a nipple before it bans a scam.

Your account can vanish at any moment (sans a nipple slip)… and there’s not a single human to talk to about it.

You can be bullied off a platform by haters, and there’s no one to answer for it.

Your reach can drop to zero because you posted something real… or something that directs people to another platform.

We’re being asked to build lifelong careers on platforms that treat us like noise with nipples. WTF is it with all this nipple talk today? 🤷‍♀️

And somehow, we’re the ones who feel like failures when we can barely make ends meet, let alone jet off to exotic locales to “network + mastermind” for a week at a time.

And when you break…

You don’t get medical leave. You don’t get reinforcements.

You get to write a vulnerable post about it + hope it converts.

The “do what you love” pipeline doesn’t account for what happens (long term) when your love becomes your livelihood.

When every creative impulse gets mined for content.

When rest feels like revenue lost.

When you start looking at your own joy like a new revenue stream.

Many, MANY (way more than you think) creators with brilliant ideas + decent size “audiences” can’t support themselves anymore… or can only support themselves with 80+ hour workweeks that are destroying them.

And it’s NOT because they aren’t strategic.

Or because they don’t show up.

Or because they don’t sell hard enough.

It’s because the economy is fucking brutal… and the attention economy is even worse.

The advice we’ve been sold was never meant for people like us.

We’re marketing like billionaires and living like baristas, and it hurts my fucking heart. But I can’t bury my head anymore.

I can’t let MY dream crumble under the weight of this system.

There’s a version of me—maybe a few years ago—who would've called this shift “quitting.”

But now? I think it’s just dream puberty.

That itchy, hormonal, slightly mortifying season when your old dream-voice cracks mid-sentence and your new one hasn’t quite figured out its pitch yet.

I’m not giving up.

I’m rerouting.

I’m living my goddamn story in real time.

I need to be able to live this reality out loud.

I want to be a part of something that feels like Doc’s cart.

Built with love.

Run with heart.

Lined with people who show up because it makes them feel seen.

I want to be the sidekick.

The secret weapon.

The ride-or-die with a pitchfork in one hand and a crazy-ass plan in the other.

I want to be the one who makes the cart a go-to… not the one who has to push it up the goddamn hill every day ALONE.

That’s the fucking dream.

And somewhere out there, a founder is building a modern version of a cart… with fancier fonts + bigger goals... but the same deep appreciation for HUMANITY.

They just need someone who can make the world feel it.

Someone like me.

Someone like us.

The recovering founders.

The burnt-out writers.

The ex-boss babes with bleeding hearts + 6-figure scars.

The ones who’ve experienced (long term) how empty “freedom” feels when it requires your entire nervous system to fund it.

So maybe this is the pivot nobody glamorizes.

Not scaling.

Not rebranding.

Not going all in.

But walking toward work that feels like home.

Like the dream grew up and finally wants to sit at a table with real legs, real people, and a full basket of crinkle-cut fries.

I still believe in the dream.

But now I know I don’t have to be the whole damn thing.

Just the part of it that shows up fully, loudly, and with great ideas + snack recommendations.

And if someone out there is building something worth believing in?

I’ll bring the ranch dressing.

Let’s get to work.

If that’s failure, call me a cautionary tale.

But I think it’s healing.

I think it’s exciting (and terrifying).

I think it’s the next evolution of the dream.

Not being the one, but finding the one who’s worth going ride-or-die for.

And when that happens?

I’m showing up apron on, tongs blazing, smirk plastered on my face, and one hand on the mic.

This is the stage of life I’m in. Thanks for letting me admit it out loud.

Founder, This Digital Playground
Gangster, The Entire Internet (Since 2014)
Beer Hater, No Matter How It's Brewed (Since 1979)
Step into your YOU-SHAPED ERA: Your Personality DNA Test Is Waiting 🦄🦄🦄 >>>

Who’s the nutcase behind this cart-sized flamethrower?

Well, hey there, internet stranger… soon to be kindred? Maybe? Possibly? Well, see soon enough. 🤷‍♀️

I’m Dre Beltrami, the OG of Personal Branding Leaving A Paper Trail for Weirdos to Find You. I write with a middle finger that's 90% intuition, 10% spite, and 0% respect for industry norms. Expect rants, rebellion, and business moves so feral they come with a confetti cannon. 🥳

If you’ve ever felt like a capitalist chew toy in a lead magnet death spiral…

CONGRATS… you’re home, weirdo! The Hot Dog Cart isn’t about growth hacks or scalable dreams. It’s a flame-throwing, margarita-soaked, stiff middle finger escape hatch to rescue your voice, your joy, and your weird-ass magic out of the jaws of the capitalist system. NO strategies. NO 6-figure flexes. NO problems dressed up as secrets. NO funnels with arms. Just liberation, one roasted weenie at a time.

I double DAWG dare you to…

This publication is NOT like the newsletters you’re used to.

The Hot Dog Cart is hosted on a gloriously human platform called Substack that has its own app + built-in social network. I highly recommend downloading the app. It’s ads-free, creator-friendly, and human AF. It’s the top shelf of safe places right now! And then, we can actually chat each other up, too. 🫶