A descent, with one climb
Years in engineering, and a pivot to quantitative research.
The deepest point on that surface is not marked, because I do not know where it is. What I know is the direction, and that the descent is still running.
A contour map of a non-convex loss surface with a career path crossing a ridge between two basins. The list below carries the same information.
- 2019 — 23 — B.Eng · McGill. Engineering first, because it was the visible path.
- 2021 — SDE Intern · TikTok. Shipping is a skill of its own, and I was good at it.
- 2022 — SDE Intern · Amazon. Pipelines move data; they do not ask what the data means.
- 2022 — 23 — Ericsson AI Lab. The modelling half held my attention far longer than the plumbing.
- 2023 — 25 — Senior SWE · TikTok. A comfortable minimum: 50k QPS, real scale, and still not the question I wanted.
- 2026 — — Electronic Arts. A bridge, chosen deliberately: enough room to keep the research moving.
- 2023 — — Independent quant. Built the trading system to test whether the interest was real. It was.
- Fall 2027 — — PhD · Operations Research. Portfolio optimization under Kwon — the first step down the side I actually want.
Why the climb
The local minimum
Most of my career has been spent as a full-stack engineer, and I was good at it.
Nine roles, four companies, systems that held at fifty thousand requests a second. By every visible measure that is a good place to stand, and the field around it is flat: every direction out looks like more of the same, slightly worse.
That flatness is the trap, and it is measurable rather than poetic. In the engineering basin the surface bends almost equally in every direction, so no step tells you much — the gradient there is a thousandth of what it is on the research side. Years can pass without a signal strong enough to argue with.
Why the climb
What I learned by moving was not the shape of the landscape. It was the shape of my own preferences.
The modelling half of every job held my attention and the plumbing did not. Written down once, that is a sentence about taste. Written down eight times across eight years, it is data — and the direction it points is mathematics, structured argument, and problems where the feedback is direct enough to be worth arguing with.
A gradient method cannot leave a basin; it has no move that goes uphill. So leaving was not an optimisation, it was a decision: a paper written on my own time, a trading system built to test whether the interest survived contact with real money, and a doctorate in the thing itself. The climb is the honest part of the picture.