If you think you're not ready to become a VA bookkeeper, you might be right.
But here's the part nobody tells you: that feeling is never going away on its own.
I've been a virtual assistant bookkeeper for four years now. I don't have a degree. I never finished my first year as an accounting student. I'm not a CPA. The only formal background I had was ABM in senior high school — that was it. That was my entire preparation.
And every single opportunity that changed my life arrived at a moment when I was the least ready I have ever been.
The Banana Chip Factory
My first job with government benefits wasn't in accounting. It was in a banana chip factory.
This was during the pandemic. Classes were supposed to start in June, then got moved to August, then moved again — because everyone still believed COVID would blow over in a few months. So I had months of nothing. Eat, sleep, repeat. I felt useless. Like I had no purpose in the world.
I didn't apply to that factory because I was qualified. I applied because I knew someone inside. A classmate from Grade 12 worked there. At the second factory, it was a churchmate.
I was 18 or 19. The work was physically heavy. I got in partly because I'd been working out and had the build for it — that's the honest truth. I applied with zero expectation. If they rejected me, fine. Nothing lost.
They took me.
Two Months of Rejection
The second story is the one that actually matters, because that's when I got my first client as a VA bookkeeper.
I was following the advice everyone gives on YouTube. Wake up at 3 AM, because that's afternoon in the US, that's when clients are free and actively browsing Upwork and OnlineJobs. That's when your application gets seen.
So I did it. Every day. For two months straight.
Studying bookkeeping. Connecting with people on Facebook. Making videos. Applying, applying, applying. I had already resigned from the factory, so I had no income at all. There were stretches where I couldn't even go out to play basketball because I had no money for anything.
That's a hard thing about me — the moment I have no source of income, no purpose, I deteriorate fast. I like to provide. I like having my own money. I need that self-security.
Two months. Nothing. Rejection after rejection. Silence after silence.
I never once felt ready. Not for a single day of it.
And then, right at the point where I was about to quit, the opportunity came in.
Not when I was prepared. When I was already giving up.
The 3 AM Call
The last story is the one I still can't fully explain.
I was working as a part-time admin and closer for a Canada-based educational brokerage, with the office in Tagum. Night shift. If I remember right, 10 PM to 8 AM. Full-time. And I was still doing part-time VA bookkeeping on the side.
I was drowning in debt. Some business risks I'd taken earlier had backfired badly, and I was still paying those off. My VA hours had dropped — not enough clients, not enough hours. Even with a full-time job on top of it, it wasn't enough.
I couldn't work properly. I had no peace of mind. Instead of focusing on the job in front of me, my attention was permanently split, always scanning for the next opportunity that could actually cover what I owed.
So every time I got off shift, I applied for jobs in Davao City. All the BPO work is centralized there — Tagum has some, but nothing specialized for accounting or back office. Accounts receivable. Accounts payable. Accounting staff. Anything.
I got interviews. And then I'd get the same result over and over: the moment they found out I wasn't a college graduate, they'd decline me. Experience didn't matter. The degree was non-negotiable for them.
I kept applying anyway.
Then one night, during our 3 AM break, I went to lie down in the napping area — one door, one bed, first come first served. I had my blanket and pillow, I was about to lie down, and my phone rang.
"Am I speaking to Kyle?"
They'd received my application for accounts payable. Was I available for a final interview at 8 AM? I asked if we could move it to 8:30 or 9, since my shift ended at 8. They said yes.
I went home, set up my laptop, took the call. The manager barely asked technical questions. He mostly wanted to know how I communicated, and asked me to rate my Excel and accounting software skills. That was it.
I closed my laptop and forgot about it. After that many rejections, you stop expecting anything. That was the only final interview I ever reached out of all those applications.
The next night, mid-shift, before lunch break — the recruiter called.
"Kyle, can you report on Monday for orientation?"
She never said I was hired. No email. No confirmation. Just: are you available Monday.
I said yes. Then I followed up by text, because I needed to be sure before I moved my whole life three hours away. Am I actually hired?
Yes, you're hired. We're just waiting on the final documents, the contract, and the job offer.
What I Had on Monday: Nothing
Let me tell you exactly what I had when I said yes.
No boarding house in Davao. No money. No idea if the company was even legitimate — they had no Philippine Facebook page, no local website. I only found them on LinkedIn later, with decent reviews, which is the only reason I stopped doubting.
Nobody in my family knew. Not my mom, not my sibling. I kept my problems to myself back then. I wanted to solve it before I said anything.
I had to resign — for the second time from that company. I'd resigned once before and come back. Now I was doing it again. I told my employer honestly: I need a higher opportunity to cover the backlogs in my life. He understood. He wished me well. My coworkers joked that there'd probably be a third resignation coming.
A workmate drove me to Davao on a motorcycle. I brought almost nothing because that's all we could carry. He helped me find a boarding house the same day — the morning of the same day I had orientation that night.
I don't fully know how I survived those weeks. Because I was not ready. Not even slightly.
The Pattern I Only Saw Later
Looking back, I can't point to a single major opportunity in my life and say: that happened because I prepared for it.
I can't say it happened because I was qualified. I can't say I trained specifically for that exact role.
Almost every opportunity that arrived came during the most vulnerable stretches of my life. When I was broke. When I was doubting. When I was one week away from quitting.
If I had to put a number on it — not 1,000, that's overstating it — I'd say roughly 300 applications to one yes.
Those 299 rejections weren't wasted. They were hours, exhaustion, tears, sweat, sacrifice, and discipline. That's the actual price of the one opportunity that finally landed.
The Real Problem Isn't Your Readiness
Here's what I've accepted, and what I want you to accept too.
You are never going to arrive at the feeling of being ready. That day is not coming. I'm telling you this so you stop waiting for it.
You either do it while unready, or you stop overthinking it and execute anyway.
Because if you keep telling yourself: I don't have a degree, so I can't apply. I have no credibility, so I shouldn't make videos. What if I get shamed? — then you'll stay exactly where you are.
I wasn't ready. I wasn't qualified. I did it anyway. Not because I was brave, but because I had no other option if I wanted my career to move faster than my credentials allowed.
If I'd waited to feel ready, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have a story to share with you.
What's Actually Abnormal
Feeling nervous is normal. Feeling unprepared is normal. That's not the problem.
Do you know what's not normal?
When the opportunity is placed directly in front of you — and you don't take it, because you decided you were too small for it.
That's the worst decision you can make. Because in that moment, you became the one who rejected you. Not the client. Not the company. Not the recruiter. You judged yourself unqualified before anyone else got the chance to.
You became your own limitation.
And if an opportunity comes and I refuse it, I will never find out whether it was meant for me. That information only exists on the other side of yes.
If God gave someone like me a chance — no degree, no prior experience, barely out of my teens — then think about your own position. If you have a degree, you're four years ahead of where I started. If you have experience but no degree, you're still ahead of where I was.
The only thing I had was a willingness to accept an opportunity that I didn't believe was meant for me.
That's it. That's the whole advantage.
Normal is not feeling ready.
Abnormal is having it right in front of you and refusing to reach for it.
Start Before You Feel Ready
Take the opportunity before you feel deserving of it. That's the whole point.