This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jack Ng, founder of NGMA Group. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I grew up on a rice paddy in China, with no running water or electricity. The idea of coming to America felt like going into space. It was a dream that was almost unimaginable.
Then, when I was 12, it became reality. My uncle owned a Chinese restaurant in Washington and sponsored my parents for work visas. I was the only one of my five siblings who was still a child, and I immigrated with my parents while my two brothers and two sisters stayed behind.
Other than my cousin, it felt like I was the only Asian kid in the whole school district. I spoke no English and often fell asleep in class. I couldn’t help it, as I listened to the teacher speak for six hours in a language I didn’t understand. Eventually, I learned English through work and friends, but I still didn’t graduate from high school.
I learned from other immigrants on the boats
I started working at my uncle’s restaurant as soon as I arrived in the US, and at 14, I got my first job outside the family. I always worked hard, but I didn’t really have an education. I knew I needed to save money and start my own company.
That led me to Alaska, to the Bering Sea, to be a deep-sea fisherman. It was really hard work. Every time I left the dock, I’d be severely seasick. I worked 12 hours on, 12 off every day for three months at a time. But when I came back from those three months, I had about $15,000 in my bank account. That was a lot of money at the time.
On the boats, I worked with other immigrants: Vietnamese, Mexicans, and Filipinos, many of whom were older than me. They taught me to work hard and not complain, but I also knew I didn’t want to be doing this type of labor for long.
My siblings came to the US and worked in my restaurant
After two years, I had about $60,000 in the bank. I used that to open my first restaurant, China City, when I was 21. It was a bit more upscale than my uncle’s restaurant, but not too different. By that time, my siblings had immigrated to the US, too. We all bought a house together, and rode to work in the same car.
The first year was difficult, and we didn’t make much money. Still, opening that restaurant felt like I had achieved my American dream.
After two years, we started a second location, on the water in a tourist town. We had white linens and a more upscale feel. We started getting very positive reviews and making more money. I went to the best restaurants in Seattle, learning from other chefs whenever I could.
I hope my son takes over my businesses
Today, I’m 48. My company, NGMA Group, owns five restaurants in Washington, and in 2025, we did more than $13 million in sales. I’ve built a good team around me and have financial security that allows me to travel back to China when I want. I could retire, but that doesn’t sound fun.
One of my sisters still works for me, but my other three siblings have left the business to pursue their own opportunities. I think differently about business than my siblings do because I’ve been in the US longer. I spend more on branding and marketing, for example, which isn’t the right choice for them.
My son is 22 and works in one of the restaurants. I hope that one day he’ll take over the business, but first he needs to get a college degree. He also needs to work in the kitchen for at least a year. It’s one thing to know how to run a business, but if you’re going to have a restaurant, you also need to know how to cook and wash dishes. You have to always be ready to jump in and work hard.
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