'Becoming an unemployed clown is not what a Chinese dad has in mind for his daughter,' writes Irene Woo

In 2025, I quit my senior software engineering job at Google to pursue comedy full-time. It feels surreal writing these words, as if we are in the multiverse (I worked in tech for six years so I’ve inevitably seen a few Marvel movies) and tomorrow I will wake up and go back to work with my stable paycheck.

My life had been planned ever since I turned eight. I was good at maths and the dream was to get into one of the top high schools in Paris to follow in my father’s footsteps and eventually get admitted into the top engineering school in France. When I turned 13, I had to adjust my

life path as my family and I moved to New York. I maintained my interest in maths and  discovered a new passion: comedy. 

At the time, Netflix had a few seasons of Saturday Night Live and I watched all of them. My passion quickly turned into an obsession: I watched a lot of stand-up, I read every comedian’s biography I could put my hands on, and I even brought my mother to the Comedy Cellar since I couldn’t go alone as a high schooler. 

Instead of moving back to France, I enrolled in McGill University to study computer science. I added maths as a double major for the sole purpose of making friends. Back in my day, maths majors had a thriving social life and I wanted to partake. At the time, I felt like learning about Galois theory was well worth making a few friends. Needless to say, I was incredibly cool.

In college, my dream job was to become a software engineer at Google. It felt like an incredible place to work and I wanted to work on a product I genuinely loved using. I went to every conference I could go to, participated in hackathons, and eventually landed an internship there.

As soon as I received my internship offer, I immediately called my dad. I might not have followed in his exact footsteps, but landing at Google felt like a great compromise.

After college, I joined Google as a software engineer in New York City. It felt like my career was basically set for life: get promoted, work on interesting projects, get promoted again, and so on until you die.

 Then Covid hit. I was locked inside like everyone else and I enrolled in writing classes. I wrote my first jokes for a fake episode of the sitcom Brooklyn Nine Nine. I remember hearing people laugh while I was reading my script over Zoom and having to walk outside for a bit to shake off the adrenaline. 

Once things started re-opening post-Covid, I would go see a stand-up show every week. Strange thoughts started appearing in my head  between meetings: what would it be like if I was a comedian?

Outside of work, I took a few acting classes. A friend suggested I check out the People’s Improv Theater and I stumbled upon their stand-up comedy class. Simply enrolling felt incredibly nerve-racking. Apart from one friend I had asked to convince me to enrol, I didn’t tell anyone in my life I was doing this. 

After the introductory session, we had to bring two pages of jokes. The day we read to the class, I was extremely anxious. I don’t think my eyes left my paper once.

But to my surprise, people laughed. The class ended with a showcase for friends and family, and when I finished my first five-minute set, I felt so proud of myself. Up until then, I’d always just been a fan of stand-up. The class opened the door for me to actually do it.

After the class, I did open mics, then indie shows, then club spots, and so on for about three years. I personally found juggling my full-time job, stand-up, and everything else in my life very challenging. 

In 2025, I thought about what it would be like to be a full-time stand-up comedian. As I entered my late 20s, I was acutely reminded of my mortality, especially as I started getting invited to weddings. I naively thought I would be 22 forever, that ‘adult’ things like getting married would come much later in life. 

As my friends started discussing having kids, and as someone who wants to have kids myself, I saw the precious period of my life devoid of

responsibilities slowly closing.

At the end of 2025, I took the plunge and left Google. At times, it feels like I blew up my own life.

My work schedule completely changed, my coworkers could not be more different (somehow comedy is even more male-dominated than tech). Some friendships have emerged even stronger, others ended when I could no longer afford fancy dinners and bachelorettes. I went from being at the top of my industry to starting over in a field with no HR. 

Do I sometimes miss the stability and paycheck from my previous career? Of course. And at the same time, I would never have had the time to write my debut hour, tour the world to refine my jokes, and perform at my first Edinburgh Fringe for an entire month.

The most difficult part of quitting my job was breaking the news to my parents. I love them and I feel very close to them, but as one might fathom, becoming an unemployed clown is not what a Chinese dad has in mind for his daughter. 

I was incredibly scared of how my career change would impact my relationship with him, which compelled me to write a show about it.

Leaving my stable, prestigious 9-to-5 to pursue stand-up has profoundly impacted my life beyond my career. I’m excited to see where my debut hour will take me and to forge my own path with the one life I was given.

• Irene Woo: Golden Child is on at Just The Tonic at The Mash House at 17:55 during the Edinburgh Fringe.

Published: 18 Aug 2026