52 Cups of Coffee: Inspiring and insightful stories for navigating life’s uncertainties

by Megan Gebhart

  I greatly appreciated Barbara’s insight, because it helped me understand a quote I once heard: You can do everything, just not at the same time.

  Every time Barbara tries something new, she starts a new chapter in her life. She has been able to do this because she never stops growing and taking risks. She never stays stuck in a rut for too long. Growing, learning, meeting new people, trying new things: those are the things that keep her life exciting and wonderful.

  After having a cup of coffee with Barbara, I felt a sense of relief about the future. I learned that, as much as I plan or try to follow a specific path, my life is not going to end up the way I expect. But this uncertainty is okay, because if I react to the change with the right mindset, continually try new things, and seek opportunities I am passionate about, life will be just fine.

  William Ward

  Cosi in East Lansing, Michigan

  Grande brewed coffee

  Never underestimate the effect you can have on someone.

  Lou Anna K. Simon (whom you’ll meet in Cup 16) is the president of Michigan State University. She made the above quote to a small group of MSU seniors at a dinner reception I attended a few hours after I had Cup 9 with Dr. William Ward.

  The remark was part of a larger talk about the various ways Michigan State was working toward a brighter future. The timing was fitting. Bill (as Dr. Ward has asked me to call him) and I had spent much of our conversation discussing education and brighter futures.

  * * *

  Bill is a marketing professor, but far from the traditional academic. After finishing college, he went to work in the corporate world before trying a stint as an adjunct professor. He enjoyed the classroom and realized that continuing on the teaching path would require a Ph.D., so he earned a doctorate in Media and Information Studies while continuing to teach in the classroom.

  Since earning his Ph.D., Bill had been across the region, working at various universities while keeping one foot in the business world as an independent consultant. One thing I quickly noticed is that Bill is a bit of a renegade—he does things his way.

  I could appreciate that because, in my eyes, the education system needs a few renegades to shake things up.

  The Internet has changed the game, and the current education system isn’t keeping up. The slow change is understandable, considering the size and structure of the long-established university system—it’s hard for large bureaucracies to be nimble. Affordable computers, smart phones, and social networks have made access to knowledge inexpensive and easy, while simultaneously increasing the challenge of captivating students’ attention. Today’s students learn differently than students of 20 years ago, yet most classrooms have stayed the same.

  Bill isn’t afraid to explore change. The marketing class he teaches at Grand Valley State University doesn’t follow the typical protocol: read the textbook, tune into the lecture, and sufficiently memorize the material to answer enough multiple-choice questions to pass the exam. His style forces students to use the new tools of marketing: social media, free online resources, web applications, and expert blogs. His class keeps up-to-date on the latest news, and engages in relevant conversations in the classroom and online—things people actually do in business.

  His students aren’t always fans of the process. As a teaching assistant at MSU, I noticed students often care more about grades and less about actually learning something. They like classes that are clearly defined, where they know exactly what they’re supposed to “learn” and how. Bill’s classes are much more fluid, which means they are harder to navigate and require students to be more engaged.

  As I talked to Bill, it was encouraging to see someone who didn’t let old traditions prevent future growth and change. We often get caught following routines without stopping to check if there’s a better way to approach the situation; we fail to realize that the way we’ve done it before isn’t necessarily the best way to do it now.

  * * *

  I was thinking about this at the reception with President Simon. Michigan State isn’t perfect—no university is; education is a complicated and unwieldy endeavor. But, it seemed like the university was working hard to make MSU a better learning environment for everyone. In attendance at the reception were a handful of leaders in the community, and many discussed new initiatives focused on advancing the university, from new energy technologies to more student-centered programs. The energy I sensed matched the energy I felt in Bill; there is something powerful about being around people looking to find new solutions to old problems, to push boundaries.

  I think this is a part of what President Simon meant when she talked about the influence you could have on others. When you surround yourself with the right people, the result can be very powerful; even small interactions led to big results.

  Even if most of them didn’t pan out, what if just one of the ideas presented at President Simon’s reception ended up being the spark that ignited change at MSU? Likewise, Bill chose to challenge the norms of education in a single classroom, with just a handful of students he was directly responsible for. But, what if just one of those students learned something about business that made the difference between success and giving up?

  That’s the sort of effect we can have on people.

  Jenny Beorkrem

  Beans and Bagels in Chicago, Illinois

  Medium brewed coffee

  Opportunities are only opportunities if you take advantage of them.

  Two summers ago, when I was living in San Francisco for an internship, I came across a poster that mapped the city by its neighborhoods, with each section represented typographically. It had a slightly offbeat but sleek design, unlike anything I’d seen before. It was also my favorite color, and I instantly loved it.

  I wasn’t able to find out the name of the company that made the poster, but with the magic of a well-crafted Google-search, I later discovered the map I had fallen in love with was an Ork Poster. San Francisco was just one of many city maps they offered. I put the poster on my wish list, gave my roommate one for her birthday, and told every friend who lived in a city to buy one. I was an unabashed fan.

  I would never have imagined that a year later I would be sitting in a coffee shop near the Montrose train stop in Chicago enjoying Cup 10 with the founder and designer of Ork Posters, Jenny Beorkrem.

  When I first found Ork, I assumed it was a relatively large company, filled with people working in cubicles and having weekly staff meetings. That perception changed the day I received the San Francisco poster for my birthday. Within the package was a small user’s guide, with a note on the back that read:

  By purchasing this poster, you’ve helped a Chicago-based graphic designer live the dream of being her own boss and doing what she loves. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you!

  Ork wasn’t some big company—it was just one person with a knack for design and a dream. A girl who saw an opportunity, took a risk and changed her life.

  * * *

  In 2007, Jenny was working a 9-to-5 job as a designer for a company in Chicago. She wanted a map of the city, but couldn’t find one that matched her style. So, being a graphic designer, she decided to create her own: the original Ork poster. Friends loved it and convinced her to print a few to sell on Etsy, an online store where artists can sell goods. It didn’t take long for the posters to become an Internet hit and for Jenny to realize she had found a way to leave the mundane cubicle life.

  Three years later, Jenny was selling 15 variations of Ork Posters online and in a few dozen stores across the nation, she had celebrities and respected designers collecting her work, and she was receiving countless thank-you letters from customers. In short, her simple idea had become a huge success.

  Not only did Jenny make brilliant posters, she had found a way to turn her passion into a career. Naturally, she was someone I wanted to meet. I figured the odds of meeting her were small, but I kept the thought tucked in the back of my mind. While I was preparing for a quick
trip to Chicago for a conference, I remembered that Jenny lived in Chicago. I didn’t have any plans for Thursday afternoon in the Windy City, so I figured, what the heck, I’d see if Jenny would have coffee with me. What did I have to lose? The worst that could happen was she ignored my email or said no outright. I could live with those outcomes, so I shot her an email.

  An hour later, she responded and agreed to a meeting. It was surreal how easy the whole thing was: I found her contact info online, sent an email, and the next thing I knew, I had a meeting planned with one of my favorite designers.

  The Ork story that’s posted online makes it sound like Jenny was just a girl that stumbled upon a good idea. After talking with her, though, it was clear that it had taken hard work, courage, and resourcefulness to turn that good idea into a thriving company. Jenny could have let the fear of hard work keep her from capitalizing on her opportunity. The Chicago map hanging on her wall could have been the only Ork Poster in existence. Instead, she took a risk and now Ork posters hang on walls across the country.

  * * *

  For my part, I could have assumed Jenny would just reject my email, and thus never have bothered to send it. I could have come up with 100 reasons why I shouldn’t have tried. But I had taken a chance, and, as a result I, had a great conversation with someone who was doing big things with her opportunities. The reward was well worth the risk.

  That’s what Cup 10 taught me: so many times, we miss great things because we are afraid of the opportunity—afraid to try something new, afraid to fail, afraid of the work it will take and the sacrifice required. Sometimes we’re even afraid of succeeding. Opportunity knocks, but we don’t always answer the door.

  I’ve always loved to sit at my desk and enjoy the map of San Francisco on my wall, but after meeting Jenny I look at it with a new appreciation. It is a reminder that when I see an opportunity to do something I love, I shouldn’t be afraid to take a risk and give it a try.

  Lisa Gnass

  Soup Spoon Café in Lansing, Michigan

  Several cups of freshly brewed coffee

  Create your own definition of success.

  We were sitting at the Soup Spoon Café in Lansing when Lisa Gnass told me a parable:

  One morning, an American businessman was sitting on the pier of a little coastal town when a small boat docked alongside him. Inside was an old man with four large fish. The American, clearly impressed with the fisherman, asked why the fisherman stopped fishing so early when he was clearly having a successful day.

  The fisherman replied, “I have caught all that I need to provide sustenance for my family. Now I can go home and enjoy lunch with my beautiful wife, relax with a good book this afternoon, and tonight I will go play guitar and sip wine with good friends.”

  The businessman was astounded at the response and thought—This man is not living up to his full potential! So he said to the angler, “You are talented! If you fished longer, you could catch enough fish to buy a bigger boat!”

  To which the fisherman asked, “And then what?”

  “Well, once you had a bigger boat, you could catch enough to hire men to help you catch even more fish. Then you could buy more boats and hire more men.”

  Again, the fisherman asked, “And then what?”

  The businessman replied, “Then you would have a fleet and large profits, so when you were ready, you could sell your business and amass a small fortune. You would have become very successful and could retire nicely.”

  “What would I do once I retire?”

  The businessman answered proudly, “That’s the best part! You’ll have enough money to spend your days relaxing by the water, having lunch with your beautiful wife, reading in the afternoon, and playing your guitar at night!”

  * * *

  Lisa was making the point that all too often, we get caught up in chasing a very narrow ideal of success and, in the process, forget the reason we’re chasing success in the first place. Instead of climbing the corporate ladder to achieve the lifestyle we want, we live the lifestyle of ladder climbing, in hopes that happiness will be waiting at the top.

  Lisa wasn’t immune to this lifestyle. When she left college, she started climbing. She was smart, ambitious, talented, and naturally competitive person. She wanted to prove herself and create an ideal life, so she followed the steps and landed a respectable job at a government agency. Each morning she put on her suit, arrived on time, punched in, and worked her eight hours before the boss let her leave.

  Then she woke up the next morning to do it again.

  After working weeks without being late or asking for a day off, Lisa asked her boss if she could come in an hour late the following day, so she could go to the courthouse and sign her marriage license. Her boss, shocked that she had the audacity to make such a request, replied, “Your life should revolve around your job—not the other way around.”

  That’s when she realized her job was not a place she was going to thrive.

  So she made a change. During her time with the agency, she realized she had a talent for writing and marketing, so she worked out a situation where she could do contract work with the organization instead of being employed full-time. She found more clients and started consulting independently.

  The job fit her lifestyle. It also allowed her to help her husband, Cameron, who was running a creative studio. They had student loans to pay back, but they lived within their means and worked hard as they each grew their businesses. Eight years and three kids later, Lisa returned to organizational life as the Executive Director of the Mid-Michigan Ronald McDonald House. She hadn’t been looking for a way back into the corporate world. She had been a volunteer on the organization’s board, and when they couldn’t find a director, she stepped up for the position, but only because it was a cause that was worthy of her putting on a suit again.

  That’s what I liked about Lisa. She doesn’t spend too much time worrying about what others think about her. She already has three wonderful children, a great husband, a meaningful career, and a list of hobbies she enjoys. Like the fisherman, Lisa found the things that matter to her, and that’s where she has invested her time.

  * * *

  As I listened to Lisa tell her story, I started to question my own motivations. In some ways, I understood where she was coming from: I have always prioritized experiences over material goods. I would much rather spend $300 on a plane ticket to visit a friend than on the hottest new handbag. That being said, when I look into my future, I can’t help but picture myself living in a big house; it’s an image that’s been ingrained into my mind by society. A big house signifies a successful life, and, like any serious college student, I want to succeed.

  But Lisa proves that success looks different for everyone. Having coffee with her helped me realize that we have to decide for ourselves what it means to be successful and strive for that vision—not for the version that others define. More difficult, we must accept that if our view of success differs from the norm, people will judge us, just as the businessman judged the fisherman.

  Cup 11 is a reminder that what others think about my career path shouldn’t trump what I trust is the best. Maybe that businessman will understand my motivations, but that’s all right—it’s not his life.

  Chad Badgero

  Gone Wired Café in East Lansing, Michigan

  Small latte

  Never let good stop you from great.

  A slushie changed Chad Badgero’s life. Seriously.

  Chad’s first job was teaching high school in a small Michigan town. He taught English but loved theatre, so after school, he assisted with the school’s drama club. He enjoyed working with the kids, but the director was another story. He was a longtime faculty member who never seemed happy and often yelled at students. Chad could never understand why.

  Then the slushie incident happened.

  During a heated moment at rehearsal, the drama teacher threw a slushie in the face of a student (yes, just like in Glee). Chad couldn’
t believe it. And later that night it clicked:

  That Drama teacher wanted to be up on that stage performing, not sitting in the audience directing. The loss of a dream had turned him into a bitter old man.

  Chad came to a cold realization: Someday that could be me. He had fallen in love with the theatre when he was in fifth grade and had been involved in the drama club throughout high school. He knew a degree in that field wasn’t practical and so he chose an education degree instead. He had always been interested in education and knew it was a good fit. But he never stayed away from the theatre for long.

  In fact, the summer after his senior year of high school, Chad hadn’t had much going on, so he decided to direct his first show. He gathered his friends, picked a show, found a venue, built sets, made costumes, and rehearsed tirelessly. They called themselves the Peppermint Creek Players.

  Chad quickly found out there was more to directing than he had originally thought, but nonetheless, on opening night there were people in the audience. The play was a success! When summer came to an end, he left for college with the assumption that the show had been a one-time occurrence.

  As his freshman year was coming to an end, his friends asked about another summer production, so once again—much to his surprise—he found himself in the director’s chair. The summer shows continued throughout Chad’s college years, but he considered it a hobby. He had decided to focus on teaching. And he thought he was content with teaching English and helping with the Drama club after school. Yet, after the slushie incident, he couldn’t shake the thought from his mind: Someday that could be me.

  He knew he was happy at his job, but would he still be happy in 20 years? Was he about to settle for a stable job that would turn him into a bitter old man, always regretting not trying his hand at a career in the theatre arts?