The 14-year-old adviser: Sam Robinson’s journey from school to practice owner

Sam Robinson can’t remember not wanting to be a financial adviser: the conviction grew through her childhood until it became a calling she took as a given. Growing up in Toowoomba, she watched her mother leave a financially abusive relationship, take on debts that weren’t hers, and work three jobs to keep three daughters in a good school. “It was horrific,” Robinson says. “But Mum was determined to break the cycle.”

For years, survival and school fees consumed every dollar. Then, once Robinson’s older sisters finished school, there was – for the first time – a modest surplus, about five to ten thousand dollars a year. Her mother sought advice.

“The adviser was probably used to dealing with clients with a lot of money,” Robinson recalls. “But he didn’t dismiss her. He said, ‘Let’s just set something up; put in what you can each week.’”

Four years later, her mother had saved $20,000. More importantly, she had options.

“She was saying, ‘Maybe one day I can buy a house; maybe one day I can travel.’ Watching that shift – that’s when I knew. That’s powerful. That’s what I want to do.”

Robinson entered financial services straight out of school, progressing from phones to paraplanning. At 20, she moved to Brisbane to accelerate her career. Twice in one day she was told she was the “perfect candidate” – until recruiters checked her driver’s licence. “They said, ‘Oh, you’re only 20. We can’t take you on. It was ridiculous. Up until that point, I was ideal, apparently. Then, suddenly, I was too young.”

Her final interview that day was with AMP’s Horizons program – the firm’s former training academy and professional year pathway (2009–2018). Again, the licence; again, the deal-breaker. But this time, Robinson pushed back. “I said, ‘These people are changing careers because they didn’t know what they wanted. From day one I’ve known I want to be an adviser. Just tell me what I need to do.’”

AMP flew the program director to Brisbane for a second interview. Robinson became the youngest candidate ever accepted. “I told them I’d work my arse off. And I did.”

Her early advisory years were spent working with pre-retirees – people like her mother. “They would say to me, ‘I wish I’d got this advice 20 years ago, where were you?’[SR1] ” That question lingered in her mind, and grew into a vision. Twelve years ago, Robinson and business partner Josh Wingrove – whom she met through Horizons – moved to Melbourne and launched their own practice, with an unapologetically millennial focus.

“Josh and I thought the same way, we wanted to help 25- to 45-year-olds who were building careers, buying homes, starting families and businesses. “At the time, other advisers would say, ‘You’ll never make money from that demographic.’ It was all about FUA,” Robinson says. “But just because someone doesn’t have millions doesn’t mean they won’t pay for value.”

Their firm, Pursue Wealth, adopted a flat-fee, service-package model based on scope and complexity rather than funds under management. Investment portfolios are predominantly passive. “Index exposure is the bedrock – low-cost, transparent, accessible,” she says. “If clients want a satellite position in something interesting – active funds, biotech, crypto – we’ll have that conversation. But only once the foundation is solid.”

The true value, she argues, lies in education and behavioural coaching. “A lot of people don’t need more information; they need help applying it. They come in saying, ‘I’ve read this – how does it apply to me?’ That’s our role,” says Robinson. “On paper, we can design the best strategy in the world. But are you actually going to follow through? We put a lot of work into that aspect.”

The intergenerational wealth transfer looms large in Robinson’s client base. Referrals often come from advisers unsure how to engage younger inheritors. Her process begins with a one-hour discovery meeting that excludes products and performance. “We’ll say, ‘tell me about your life, paint me a picture of what success would look like to you?’” Only in the second meeting do strategies emerge.

She has seen older advisers struggle to connect with beneficiaries. “They can’t get the kids into meetings. Then suddenly those kids are at our door with millions, saying, ‘I want someone who speaks my language.’” Estate structures and powers of attorney are treated as core planning pillars for every client. “You can’t just write ‘seek legal advice’ in the SOA and move on. That’s why they’re sitting with you,” she says.

From the outset, Robinson and Wingrove declined misaligned prospects — even when revenue was scarce. “If I don’t want to pick up the phone to you, this isn’t going to work,” she says. This means the initial meetings are mutual assessments. “We’re evaluating you as much as you’re evaluating us. We want go-getters. If you don’t implement the advice, what fulfilment does that bring anyone?”

Today, the firm employs 21 staff, including six advisers, an accountant and a mortgage broker. Each adviser is capped at 120 family groups and supported by a defined “pod” structure: an associate adviser, implementation support and a shared client service officer. “Working with each client, there are four people involved,” Robinson says.

Rather than viewing this as excessive overhead, she sees it as efficiency. “Why pay an adviser to do admin?” Most of our advisers have progressed internally through the professional year pathway. They’ve done the groundwork; their passion is strategy and client-facing work. We want them energised and doing what makes them happy.”

As managing director, Robinson now splits her time between strategy, acquisitions and key client relationships, always alongside a secondary adviser, who can run the client at times she is not available. “You can’t build a business like this and still operate as a solo practitioner,” she says. “I have to work on the business, that’s the reality. We’re doing an acquisition at the moment and that’s challenging, so I simply can’t have any clients by myself anymore, I always have a secondary adviser with me, and that’s the only way that I can continue. I just have to accept that my role is changing.”

Having served eight years as an AFA director through the transition to the FAAA, Robinson has had a front-row seat to the profession’s regulatory overhaul. She sees both sides of the declining numbers.

“The unintended consequences of removing so many advisers so quickly – we’re feeling that now,” she says. “The pressure is enormous. But the opportunity for advisers who remain is huge: demand is off the charts. The big challenge for the profession is attracting new entrants, which we haven’t always been good at. But I think we’ve started to turn that around. Certainly, we are always keen to hire more professional-year candidates and advisers or associates in this space, to do our bit. We’re always open for to like-minded advisers and associates who share our values and passion to join our team.”

Robinson is still doing more than her “bit” for the profession: she is currently serving her second term on the Financial Services and Credit Panel, reflecting how her role continues to evolve beyond her own firm and into the broader profession.

With so many balls in the air, Robinson accepts that she needs to recharge, from time to time. Outside work, she prioritises Pilates, travel and health. Last year included immersive trips to Sri Lanka, India and Spain. This year, she plans a month working remotely through Europe. “We tell clients to design a life first and build finances around it. I have to live that, too.” She doesn’t follow a conventional script – no children planned, a renovated home in South Melbourne and a passport rarely idle. “I work bloody hard,” she says. “But I also have a lot of fun, and I focus on my health.”

It’s a philosophy shaped by watching her mother fight for stability – and then, finally, glimpse possibility. “That adviser changed her future,” Robinson says. “If we can do that for someone at 30 instead of 60, imagine the impact.” For Sam Robinson, that impact was never a career option; it was always the plan.

James Dunn

James is an experienced senior journalist and editor of The Inside Network's publications.