Tag: travel

The Most Important Lesson I’ve Learned Working in This Industry

If there’s one thing this industry has taught me — the kind of lesson you only learn after years of trial, error, and stubbornness — it’s this:

If you don’t know what you’re building toward, everything around you will pull you in a hundred directions at once.

And not gently.

This space is loud. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has a strategy, everyone swears they’ve cracked the code. And if you’re not anchored by something real, you’ll find yourself scrolling Google for escape plans and foreign residency requirements before your coffee gets cold. (Hypothetically. Maybe.)

People see the final outcome — the polished videos, the polished projects, the audience numbers — and assume there’s a straight line connecting all of it. But nothing about what we do is linear. Growth has a personality disorder. Some seasons feel electric and effortless; some feel like you’re dragging the entire internet up a hill.

What has surprised me most isn’t the workload. It’s the emotional weight of leading something that has its own identity now. Wood Bully and Bully Media aren’t just “our businesses” anymore — they are a living, breathing thing with expectations, momentum, and people who rely on it. There’s a responsibility that comes with that, one that grows louder the bigger this gets.

And that’s exactly why Gordon built this the way he did.

Not for attention.

Not for clout.

Not for internet fame.

He built it because he hoped that someday, all of this effort would circle back to his family — to more time, more stability, and more choices than either of us had growing up. Wood Bully started as a way to build something that would outlive the hustle. Something that could create freedom, not chaos. Something that could rewrite what “work” looks like for our family in the long run.

The part people don’t see is that purpose evolves.

It’s not a moment — it’s a discipline.

A practice.

A constant recalibration.

Purpose is what forces you to make decisions that aren’t popular but are necessary.

Purpose is what keeps you from taking shortcuts when the easier road is right there.

Purpose is what stops you from letting ego run the show.

Purpose is what keeps the entire thing aligned when the outside world feels messy.

And in a space where trends flip every five minutes, where platforms reinvent themselves overnight, and where everybody swears they found a “new formula,” that purpose has become the only compass worth following.

I’ve learned that success isn’t one big decision — it’s a thousand tiny agreements you make with yourself:

Who you want to be.

What kind of company you want to run.

What kind of impact you want to leave behind.

What kind of example you’re setting while you build it.

Everything around Wood Bully has evolved. The audience, the content, the direction, the opportunities — all of it has changed dramatically from where we started. But the intention behind it hasn’t drifted even an inch.

We’re here to build something that outlasts trends, noise, and algorithms.

Something anchored in the kind of values that don’t go out of style.

Something our kids can look at and understand exactly what we stood for.

That — not the numbers, not the platforms, not the industry chaos —

is the reason we’re still standing.

And the reason we’ll still be standing ten years from now.

OC Lumber x Wood Bully

If you told me five years ago that I’d be traveling across the U.S. for two months straight with Gordon, building, filming, and chasing an idea that had been in my head for years, I probably would have laughed and told you that stuff just doesn’t happen to anyone. And yet, somehow, that idea — this crazy, half-dreamed, half-insane notion of a traveling carpenter media tour — actually happened. Twice. In 2024 and 2025, we set out on what became the OC Lumber Tour, and it was everything I thought it would be and nothing I expected at the same time.

The whole thing started in January 2024. I’d been talking about the traveling Wood Bully idea for years, begging Gordon to do it. And then, out of nowhere, we met Casey ( in person anyways) And Casey had been thinking the exact same thing. For a moment, it was almost unreal — like someone finally spoke the same language we’d been dreaming in all along. From that instant, everything clicked. Casey became more than a planner or organizer; he became a guide, a partner, and someone whose expertise we leaned on in ways I can’t even describe. He knows every hotel in the country, but he also listens, believes in your vision, and somehow manages to make chaos feel manageable. Having him there made this impossible dream feel achievable.

We left for the first tour on June 29, 2024, right after our son’s grade 12 graduation ( he graduated with honors 🎉) We drove to Washington, D.C., jumped on an overnight auto train to Sanford, Florida, and began the whirlwind. From there, we drove down to the Keys, settling into a hotel in Marathon right on the water. Huge iguanas wandered around the pool, completely unbothered by humans, and it was one of our first “holy shit, we’re actually doing this” moments. Florida stole my heart immediately.

From Marathon, the stops came fast: Key Largo, Fort Lauderdale, Fort Myers, Cape Coral(which Gord kept calling Cape Canaveral – I have the videos to prove it!) Sarasota (Siesta Key sunsets!), Bradenton, Winter Haven, and Orlando — after Orlando we flew home for four days for our son’s birthday. Then Clearwater, St. Pete Beach, a pizza stop in tiny Tarpon Springs, Hudson, Daytona Beach, Jacksonville, Savannah, Dutch Island, Charleston, Greenville, Birmingham, Nashville, Knoxville for a competition series, Charlotte, Wilmington (where we surprised Gordon for his birthday), Newport News, Baltimore (never again), Atlantic City, Barnegat, Long Island, Butler, NJ, and finally Providence, Rhode Island.

Every day was early mornings, building or appearances, sleep, then driving to the next city. Just Gordon and me traveling together. I handled production, logistics, and everything at home, while Gordon was the creative genius on camera. Casey and Kevin were there almost every stop, keeping everything organized, anticipating problems before they happened, and somehow making the tour feel possible. Casey’s dedication went far beyond logistics — he was our mentor, our problem-solver, the calm in the chaos, and someone who believed in us when we were still figuring out if we believed in ourselves.

Some moments were unforgettable. Watching Gordon, who couldn’t swim, get on water skis ( TWICE! ) was absolutely hilarious — and terrifying. He had practiced swimming in hotel pools for days beforehand. He was sore for a week. I laughed so hard I cried ( I also have videos of this). And there was that pizza in Wayne, New Jersey. I swear I dream about it all the time. And then there were the contractors everywhere recognizing Wood Bully — telling us we’d inspired them, taught them what they knew, or motivated them to start their own companies. That part hit me in a way nothing else did. All the chaos, stress, and long drives suddenly had meaning.

2025 was different. We went back to the drawing board and decided to slow down. Instead of flying in and out of job sites in a day, we stayed a week, really building relationships, learning from crews, and creating more meaningful content. We started in Detroit with Theo Von ( watching his stand up show ), then Cleveland, Massachusetts, Boston, Fargo (a two-day drive!), Short Grass Resort in South Dakota, Billings, Montana (where our brand-new vehicle broke down, nightmare), Toledo for the Owens Corning headquarters, and finally a bowling alley hangout before heading home. Spending more time at each stop made everything feel more connected — less rushed, less stressful, and way more rewarding.

Even the tough moments are now part of the story. The Billings breakdown could have broken me emotionally — six of us stranded, rentals, flights, logistics — but we somehow made it work. That experience taught me more about adaptability, patience, and teamwork than anything else on either tour.

Through it all, the biggest lesson was about people. Casey became family. Contractors became friends. Gordon and I learned how capable we really are, how adaptable we can be, and how incredible it feels to turn a five-year idea into a tangible reality. I also learned that I can thrive in chaos, that I can hold everything together when needed, and that relationships — real, honest, human relationships — are what make the grind worth it.

If I had to sum up both tours in one sentence, it would be: holy shit, that was epic. I can’t wait to do it again, and I know that with Gordon and the incredible people we met along the way, the next chapter will be even bigger.

I put some photos at the bottom because writing about this just doesn’t do it justice –

-Samantha

Why We Choose the Brands We Work With (And Why We Turn Others Down)

People see us working with big brands now and think it’s always been like this. Like companies just magically showed up one day wanting to partner with us. But anyone who’s been following us for a while knows that’s not the truth.
We built everything from scratch.
We showed up everywhere before anyone even knew our names.
We paid out of pocket for every trade show, every flight, every hotel, every meeting — all because we believed in what we were building long before the industry believed in us.
So when people ask, “How do you decide which brands you work with?”
The answer comes from years of showing up, learning, getting burned, getting back up, and figuring out what actually matters.
Here’s how we choose — and why we turn others down.

  1. We Only Work With Brands We Actually Use
    This one is simple: if it’s not something we genuinely use on the job or in the shop, we’re not putting our name on it.
    We’ve spent years in the trades. We know what works and what doesn’t. We know which tools hold up on a real jobsite and which ones barely survive unboxing. So if a brand reaches out and the product isn’t something we’d use in our actual work, it’s a no — even if they’re waving money around.
    Our audience isn’t stupid. They can tell the difference between authentic and “I posted this because they paid me.”
    We don’t play that game.
  2. We Choose Brands Who Respect the Work Behind the Work
    People think content is easy until they’re the ones doing it.
    A 30-second video might take:
    • an entire day of filming
    • lighting
    • audio
    • editing
    • reshoots
    • approvals
    • travel
    • and then the posting schedule on top of it
    Brands who understand that this is a production, not a hobby — those are the brands we work with.
    If someone wants champagne content on a fast-food budget, we politely decline.
  3. We’re Not the Shopping Network — We’re More Like National Geographic
    This is a big one.
    Some brands only care about ROI.
They want instant sales, instant “use my link,” instant numbers to justify the partnership. And that’s fine — for creators who operate that way.
    But that’s not us.
    We’ve never wanted to be the “link in bio” people.
We don’t run our platforms like a shopping channel.
    Our storytelling, our videos, our series… they’re more like National Geographic:
You watch, you learn, you get pulled into the world — and along the way, you see the tools and gear we use naturally.
    We’re not out here trying to sell products just to make money.
We want to showcase brands we believe in — not shove them in people’s faces.
    And that’s why you don’t only see the products we use labeled as “paid partnership.” You see them:
    • on real jobsites
    • in random shop days
    • in competitions
    • in behind-the-scenes vlogs
    • in travel builds
    • in the messy, unfiltered real stuff
    Because we use them whether the camera is on or not.
    That authenticity is why our audience trusts us — and why the right brands want long-term relationships, not just one-off ads.
  4. Loyalty Matters — A Lot
    We treat brands the same way we treat people: if you show loyalty, we show loyalty.
    We’ve had companies who supported us before anyone else cared. Companies who took meetings when we were nobodies. Companies who respected our time, our craft, and our growth.
    Those are the brands we stick with.
    And yeah — we’ve had the opposite too.
The ones who wanted everything for nothing.
The ones who talked down to us.
The ones who treated tradespeople like we’re disposable.
    Those partnerships don’t last more than one email.
  5. We Run a Media Company — Not a Side Hustle
    This is something a lot of brands don’t understand at first.
    We’re not two people with phones making videos in between jobs.
    We run Bully Media Studios.
We run Wood Bully.
We handle logistics, travel, production schedules, deliverables, crews, equipment, strategy — all of it.
    We don’t guess.
We don’t wing it.
We’re professionals, and we expect the brands we work with to treat us like partners, not “influencers they can squeeze.”
    If a brand can’t respect that, they’re not for us.
  6. Sometimes “No” Is the Best Thing for Our Business
    And honestly? It took time to learn that.
    Early on, every offer felt exciting. But the more we grew, the more we realized that every partnership affects:
    • our reputation
    • our credibility
    • our audience’s trust
    • our relationship with other brands
    • our long-term opportunities
    A bad partnership can do more damage than no partnership at all.
    So now, if it doesn’t align — we say no.
    Whether it’s the wrong product, the wrong energy, the wrong expectations, or the wrong intentions…
No is a complete sentence.

The Real Reason We Choose the Brands We Choose
Because we built this entire thing with our own money, our own time, our own hands, our own risks.
Because no one gave us shortcuts.
Because we fought for every opportunity.
We choose brands who believe in the work we do — not just what we can sell.
We choose brands who value the relationship as much as the content.
We choose brands who support authenticity, creative freedom, and long-term growth.
And because of that, we have the confidence — and the experience — to turn down the ones who don’t.

Travelling + Being a parent

People romanticize travel like it’s some dreamy montage of airports, hotels, new cities, and “living the life.” But when you have kids—five kids, to be exact—travel stops being glamorous real quick. For us, travel started back in 2020 when my youngest was almost three, and honestly? It hasn’t really stopped since. Most families take a vacation once or twice a year; we somehow built a life where suitcases never get fully unpacked, passports live permanently in our backpacks, and every month we are figuring out what’s next. And sure, there are cool moments. There are memories we’d never have if our life looked “normal.” But nobody warns you about the part where traveling without your kids creates a version of parenting that looks nothing like what people imagine.

People hear “touring all summer” or “trade show season” and picture adventure, momentum, and opportunity. And yes—it’s absolutely all of those things. But it’s also the reality of hugging your kids goodbye for weeks or months at a time, missing birthdays and school events, and knowing that life at home keeps moving whether you’re there to see it or not. Even though our tours, trade shows, and appearances are all within North America, the distance still feels huge. You’re working, creating, and building something meaningful, but a part of your mind is always anchored at home. You think about the routines you usually run, the conversations you’re missing, and all the little things only a parent really notices.

And when you are home? It’s not the “rest and reset” people assume it must be. It’s catching up on everything that piled up while you were away. Laundry, meals, school updates, appointments, schedules, and the hundreds of small decisions that keep a household running. The stress doesn’t disappear just because you’ve crossed a border back into your own driveway—it just shifts from work mode to home mode. Running a household from the road becomes a full-time side job: coordinating schedules through spotty service, FaceTiming during the only hour that overlaps, helping with homework between commitments, and managing life from hotel rooms and highways. It’s a juggling act that no one trains you for.

With five kids, there’s always someone who needs something—support, structure, attention, reassurance—and when you’re away, you feel every single missed moment a little differently. Not in a dramatic or guilt-heavy way, just in an honest, “this is the reality of our lifestyle” way. You parent from a distance, you stay involved however you can, and you remind yourself constantly that you’re doing this for your family, even if it means being physically away from them more than you’d like. It’s a strange balance: loving the work and the opportunities, while knowing there’s always a version of home you’re temporarily stepping out of.

Traveling without your kids isn’t glamorous, and it isn’t terrible—it’s just real. It’s beautiful, messy, fulfilling, overwhelming, and meaningful all at once. It’s the constant back-and-forth between showing your kids what hard work looks like and wishing you could bottle every moment you miss. People see the photos, the projects, the places, the highlight reel. But the truth is simpler: traveling without your kids comes with its own weight, its own sacrifices, and its own rewards. At the end of the day, no trip, no tour, no project compares to walking back through your front door and hearing five voices yelling for you all at once.

And honestly, even with the challenges, I know we’re giving our kids a life I never imagined for myself. They’re growing up with experiences, opportunities, and perspectives I didn’t have—and that makes all of this worth it. We’re lucky, and I don’t take that for granted for a second.

-Samantha

EPISODE PREP: AKA “THE PART NO ONE SEES”

If you have a question, drop it in the comments. I’m planning to post here at least once a day going forward, because apparently I’ve decided sleep is optional.

Right now, we’re gearing up for another YouTuber vs. Real Carpenter episode… except this time, we’ve changed the rules.

It’s officially YouTuber vs. Real Roofer, and we somehow convinced Mark from Them Roof Boys to come hang out with us. Send strength.

People always see the final video and think,

“Oh cool, they filmed a build.”

But after 12 episodes, I can tell you:

We basically run a mini Olympics every time we shoot one of these.

Let me walk you through the chaos.

Step 1: Coming up with the idea (AKA: chaos brainstorming)

Every episode starts with a conversation that sounds something like:

  • “What if we made them build a roof?”
  • “What if the roof was sloped?”
  • “What if it was metal?”
  • “What if we made them do it in 5 hours?”
  • “Is that dangerous?”
  • “Probably.”

And then I turn it into an actual event that won’t get anyone injured or arrested.

Step 2: Materials… all of the materials

Roofs require:

  • metal
  • flat stock
  • fascia
  • soffit
  • trough
  • fasteners
  • specialized tools
  • and caffeine strong enough to restart a car battery

Cue me emailing, calling, texting, coordinating, and occasionally begging suppliers to make sure everything arrives on time.

Step 3: The Build Design

This part happens in Gordon’s brain.

He’ll walk into the shop, stare at the wall for two minutes, mutter “5/12 pitch,” and suddenly we have a full blueprint for a 10’ x 10’ roof section with matching A-frames.

He swears it’s a talent.

I think it’s mild possession.

Step 4: Competitors

Then there’s the whole competitor situation:

  • finding them
  • confirming they can cross the border
  • making sure they want to compete
  • making sure they won’t faint from nerves
  • getting their sizes for safety gear
  • sending them 300 details about the day
  • booking hotels/ flights
  • answering questions like “Can I bring my dog?” (yes, that really happened)

This part is… a journey.

Step 5: The Crew

Camera crew. Lighting. Audio. Backups. Thumbnails. Interviews.

Trying to keep Chuck from wandering out of frame.

Trying to keep Gordon in frame.

Trying to make sure Cameron doesn’t edit himself into a coma.

All powered by coffee.

Step 6: The Schedule

Every episode has a minute-by-minute breakdown:

  • crew call
  • coffee
  • thumbnails
  • interviews
  • Shannon trying to keep everyone on a schedule
  • build windows
  • coffee
  • mid-build moments
  • Nobody listening to Shannon’s schedule
  • more coffee
  • outro
  • teardown
  • even more coffee because by then we’re all just running on fumes and hope

After 12 episodes, you’d think we’d relax.

No. The schedule owns us.

Step 7: The Shop Setup

We move EVERYTHING:

  • tools
  • materials
  • camera paths
  • safety zones
  • lighting
  • and sometimes Chuck, if he stands still too long and gets mistaken for equipment

By the time we’re done, it looks like we’re hosting a tradeshow inside a tornado.

Step 8: The Nervous Energy

The morning of every shoot feels like:

  • first day of school
  • a boxing match
  • a family reunion where you like half the people
  • a field trip with power tools

Everyone’s excited.

Everyone’s stressed.

Someone’s always missing a glove.

And finally… we hit record.

This is the part you see — the builds, the commentary, the chaos, the “did he really just do that” moments, and everything in between.

But behind that one YouTube episode?

Is weeks of planning, prepping, building, organizing, scheduling, emailing, buying, rearranging, and pure “let’s hope this works” energy.

And I love it.

Every stressful, hilarious second of it.

If you want a behind-the-scenes post about:

  • the competitor selection process
  • the sponsorship side
  • how we write the rules
  • or the REAL reason these builds take years off my life

Just comment below.

See you tomorrow.

— Samantha

BEHIND THE SCENES: WHAT I DO, WHAT I DON’T DO, AND HOW I BUILT THIS WITH GORDON

People always ask,

“How do you and Gordon work together and live together without killing each other?”

Fair question.

Because the truth is: we’re together 100% of the time.

We run a company together.

We travel together.

We film together.

We plan together.

We parent together.

We build everything in our life… together.

But it didn’t start off smooth.

And my role today is nothing like what it was in the beginning.

So here’s the truth — the full story.

⸻

In the beginning, I wasn’t in the driver’s seat. I was running beside the car.

When this whole “let’s make videos” thing started, I wasn’t running the business.

I was:

• helping on the side

• suggesting ideas

• filling in gaps

• fixing things quietly

• catching problems before they became problems

• trying to keep everything from catching fire

It felt like Gordon was driving the car at full speed, pedal down, music blasting…

And I was literally running beside it, doing everything I could to keep up.

Not because he didn’t value me —

but because he didn’t want to give up control.

This was his thing.

His identity.

His comfort zone.

His creative world.

And I understood it… but that didn’t make it easier.

⸻

Gordon didn’t want to give up control — and I didn’t want to fight him.

If you know Gordon, you know this:

He likes things done a certain way.

He’s used to handling everything himself.

He’s independent.

He’s stubborn.

He’s protective of his work.

And at first, that meant he didn’t want help.

Not real help.

He didn’t want to hand things off.

He didn’t want someone organizing him.

He didn’t want someone “telling him what to do.”

Even if that someone was me.

So we struggled.

The business was growing faster than either of us expected, but he kept trying to hold all the reins.

And I kept trying to support him without stepping on his toes.

It was like trying to run a media company with one hand tied behind my back.

⸻

And then one day… something shifted.

I don’t know the exact moment, but somewhere along the way, he realized:

• he couldn’t manage everything alone

• he needed structure

• he needed someone thinking 10 steps ahead

• he needed clarity, organization, and planning

• he needed a business partner

• not a helper

• not an assistant

• not someone “running beside the car”

He needed me.

And I stepped in.

Not as a backup.

Not as a silent partner.

Not as a shadow.

But as a business owner.

⸻

Today, we switch seats. Driver’s seat. Passenger seat. Whatever the moment needs.

Sometimes I drive:

• planning

• scheduling

• contracts

• strategy

• business deals

• negotiations

• logistics

• decisions

• systems

• crisis control

• making sure everything actually gets done

Sometimes he drives:

• creative direction / brand direction

• building ideas

• on-camera energy

• storytelling

• production flow

• the heart and personality of the brand

 

And sometimes we switch seats mid-drive, depending on the day.

That’s what makes us work:

We don’t fight for one seat.

We trade them.

We share them.

We understand that the business needs both of us doing what we’re good at.

⸻

What I do now

Here’s the real list:

• help run Bully Media

• manage sponsorship communications 

• handle contracts

• plan filming

• coordinate travel

• manage deliverables

• handle all communication

• build the systems

• keep everyone on track

• make decisions no one wants to make

• put out fires

• stand beside Gordon while he shines

• help him shine brighter

• AND TRY to build my own presence through it all

Basically, I help run the company while Gordon mostly runs the camera and the tools.

And we need both to make this work.

⸻

What I don’t do

I don’t:

• pick up a camera anymore (unless I have to)

• edit

• pretend I know the right saw blade

• climb ladders

• cut metal

• dig holes

• handle manual labour

• try to act like Gordon

• try to compete for his spotlight

He’s the builder.

He’s the on-camera personality.

He’s the spark.

And I don’t have to be him.

I’m me.

⸻

How we stay together when we’re together all the time

We’re opposites that fit:

• He’s spontaneous. I’m structured.

• He’s creative chaos. I’m organized chaos.

• He jumps. I calculate.

• He makes people laugh. I worry about the business.

• He hates being told what to do. I hate when things lack direction.

• He builds. I build the plan.

And most importantly?

We respect what the other brings.

We don’t compete.

We don’t try to outshine each other.

We don’t fight for space.

We made space for each other — and that’s why it works.

⸻

I helped build a social media company — not by being loud, but by being the foundation.

People see Gordon and assume the whole thing is him.

And he IS the face.

He IS the brand.

He IS the reason people show up.

But behind every video, every partnership, every trip, every event, every episode, every opportunity…

There’s me:

planning, organizing, pushing, supporting, structuring, guiding, deciding, building the parts no one sees.

We built this together.

Each in our own lane.

Side by side.

And now?

I’m not running beside the car anymore.

I’m in the front seat —

and he trusts me enough to let me drive when I need to.

— Samantha

FROM LABOURER TO FULL-TIME CONTENT CREATOR (A STORY I DID NOT SEE COMING)

If you told me a year ago that I’d be writing a blog post for a media company, I would’ve laughed, brushed the sawdust off my shirt, and asked if you were feeling okay. Because up until recently, my entire life was job sites, lumber, labour, tools I’m still surprised I survived using, long days, and constantly asking, “What’s next?” every five minutes. I was a labourer. That was my lane — safe, predictable, sweaty, familiar. And then everything changed.

How I Got Here (Accidentally, On Purpose)

I started with Wood Bully doing the most basic labour work: hauling materials, helping on builds, being the extra set of hands, saying yes to everything because that’s what you do when you’re learning. Then one day, someone handed me a camera — probably because they just needed someone to grab a couple shots. But “grab a couple shots” turned into “Can you film this?” which turned into “Can you film that?” which turned into “Okay, you’re actually pretty good at this,” and eventually, “Congratulations, you’re full time now.” I went from labourer to content creator faster than I could figure out how to turn airplane mode off.

What I Do Now

If you ask me what my job is today, the honest answer is: everything. I film, edit, learn new gear, travel, shoot thumbnails, record audio, capture behind-the-scenes, stay caffeinated, try not to drop expensive equipment, and pretend I know what I’m doing until I actually do. And I love it. Even when it’s overwhelming. Even when I’m exhausted. Even when my camera battery dies at the worst possible moment (which is always).

Travelling for Content — The Part I Didn’t Expect

If you’d told me I’d go from job sites to airports, I would’ve laughed again. But now I’m on the road constantly — filming tours, competitions, contractors, events, brands… everything. I’ve learned how to sleep sitting up, how to carry gear through a terminal like it’s a newborn, how to film in 100-degree heat, how to film in weather that makes me question all my life choices, how to work in hotels that were definitely decorated in 1993, and how to keep up with Gordon and Chuck (which is nearly impossible). Filming in new places is wild. Filming while trying not to get in the way is even wilder. But it’s the best part of the job.

Editing: The Part No One Sees

People see the final videos, not the late nights, the endless timelines, the hours trimming clips, the “Where’s that file?” panic, or the colour correction marathons. They don’t see the audio chaos, the re-edits, the re-re-edits, or the existential crisis when something exports weird. Editing is where everything comes together — where I get to help tell the story. That part hooked me. I went from building decks to building videos, and honestly, it feels like the thing I was meant to do.

What It’s Like Working With The Crew

Working with Bully Media feels like jumping onto a moving train — fast, chaotic, hilarious, unpredictable, and somehow the best decision I’ve ever made. Gord pushes me creatively, Chuck keeps things fun, Samantha keeps us alive and organized, the team keeps growing, and I’m learning nonstop. It’s the kind of environment where you grow because you have no choice but to grow — in the best way possible.

Who I Am Today

I’m still @camerononsite — that part hasn’t changed. But now I make content, tell stories, travel, edit, work with incredible brands, film builds people actually care about, and I’m part of a full-blown media team. I went from swinging a hammer to holding a camera, and somehow it feels like the most natural transition ever.

Where I’m Going Next

Honestly? I’m not totally sure. But I know it’s going to be good. More filming. More travelling. More learning. More storytelling. More growing with the Bully Media team. More stepping into this new version of my life. Whatever comes next, I’m ready for it.

— Cameron (@camerononsite)