Income Tax Guide for US Citizens Working in Canada

 When the stock market totally tanked, the fam was shook. They had to hustle and sell apples and pigs to make that paper. But Rudkin's bigger flex was dealing with the mad allergies and asthma of her youngest son, Mark, who couldn't even munch on processed foods. When a doc told Mark to go on a diet of all-natural grub, Rudkin was like, "I gotchu fam" and decided to whip up some lit stone-ground whole wheat bread. "My first loaf should have been sent to the Smithsonian Institution as a flex of Stone Age bread," Rudkin said. Yeet!" "It was hella solid and like, barely an inch tall." After a few tries she finally had a fire loaf. Mark was totally obsessed with it, and his doctor was all like "I'm totally prescribing this to my peeps." Rudkin straight up strolled to her local grocer and was like, "Yo, you down to sell my bread?" "

No cap," the grocer said. Rudkin had no cap in the baking game; plus, she wanted twenty-five cents a loaf instead of the usual rate of ten cents.

Vinny ain't solo, fam. OMG, the research we did on like a thousand Endeavor entrepreneurs found that like two-thirds of them didn't even bother with formal business plans when they started their ventures. And get this, over 80 percent of them launched their first product within six months! And like almost half of them changed their whole business model at least once. Crazy, right? Wences didn't have a biz plan when he started his company, and neither did Leila. Our gazelles are vibin' with the squad. A 2002 survey of the founders of Inc. 500 companies spilled the tea that only 12 percent did any legit market research before launching and only 40 percent bothered to write formal business plans. Can you believe it? SMH. Of those who wrote plans, like, two-thirds totally admitted they ghosted them later. The peeps who started Microsoft, Pixar, and Starbucks didn't even bother with business plans; Intel's business plan was like, only 161 words, and some of those words, like "and," were totally spelled wrong.

Corp skunks, too, can use this stop-planning, start-doing approach.

 

When I asked Mary Jo Cook, of Clorox, what's the tea for those in big companies who were thinking of becoming more entrepreneurial, she said, "Instead of overthinking and trying to predict the perfect scenario in a messy, ever-changing world, just yeet and give it a shot." The tea on entrepreneurship, she said, is to "learn by doing." What's lit about this approach within corps is that instead oftryna flex on your boss with a PowerPoint, you can back it up with some solid proof points. Yo, peep what went down at Pfizer, fam. They be one of the biggest pharma companies out there, with over ninety thou employees. In 2005, Jordan Cohen, a mid-level HR officer, peeped that a new dad on his squad was grinding late to whip up spreadsheets and do online research. Cohen didn't think this was a vibe and wondered if individual employees could flex and outsource grunt work to India. Instead of flexing with a fancy proposal, Cohen straight up tested the idea with a few workers and his own tight budget. He totally flexed his initiative Office of the Future and kept it hella lowkey from his bosses for a whole year to gather receipts, clout, and squad. The first test was a total flop, like, majorly. Assignments came back filled with typos; data were like, totally riddled with errors. Cohen found out his homies weren't being specific AF with their outsourced assistants about what they needed, so he spent months breaking down projects into four lit tasks: making docs, flexing spreadsheets, setting up meetings, and doing research.

At this point he snagged a senior manager from a diff department, who was down to pilot the program and flex his budget to pay for it, giving Cohen mad resources and cover.

Pfizer's top brass was still clueless AF. Yo, word of the program started going viral, and like, two hundred employees hopped on the wave. Armed with mad data showing thousands of employee hours saved, Cohen and his adviser finally pitched top execs, who gave the green light to a lit company-wide program. Today the renamed pfizerWorks serves ten thousand managers, including the chairman and CEO. Yeet! In internal surveys, employees rated it the company's most fire service, even tho they gotta flex their own department budgets to cop it. Butterfly entrepreneurs be like, they just jump into their hustle without a plan, ya know? They peep something that needs fixing, and they straight up go about fixing it. In their case, it's like, lowkey not even a choice 'cause like, many don't even realize they're starting something when they do, you know? That was like, the tea on Margaret Rudkin. The oldest of five sibs in an Irish American fam, Rudkin (née Fogarty) was born in 1897 in NY. OMG, this girl was like a total firecracker with her red hair! She was the ultimate queen bee of her high school and then she landed a job at a fancy Wall Street firm, where she met her hubby. So lit! The two had three sons and moved to a lit piece of property in Fairfield, Connecticut. The year, but make it lit AF