I'm
often asked, 'how did you get into ice cream?'
The
most accurate answer is 'because a manager I hardly knew didn't
consider me for a promotion'.
But
that's never the answer I've given. Until now.
At
first glance, my foray into ice cream might seem like a no-brainer.
My Dad worked his whole career in the dairy field. He and my Mom
built and operated a couple of successful ice cream shops back when I
was in my twenties and thirties. In business school, I even wrote a
business plan about a small ice cream shop. But I was an
engineer. I had an undergraduate degree in engineering, along with
a similar engineering master's degree and an MBA. I'd been working
at the prestigious Bell Laboratories for over a decade. Heck, I'd
just gotten my third week of vacation and had a nice 401K and
pension. The work was fairly interesting and the company had
treated me well. But I felt stuck. There had to be more to
(work) life. I wasn't unhappy. I just wasn't excited about the
work and the predictable life I'd built around it. Unfortunately, I
wasn't unhappy enough to do anything about it.
That all changed one otherwise unremarkable Tuesday in April. I had heard through the grapevine that I wasn't a candidate for a promotion that I felt extremely qualified. The hiring manager, at the advice of her boss, wasn't even considering me for the job. The truth was this blackballing boss barely knew me. I'd become a victim of office politics. That was it for me. The next day, I uploaded my resume to monster.com. Within a week, I got a call from a promising tech startup. Within another few weeks, I would leave that big, safe company life for a risky new start-up, full of scary smart people with what seemed like a really good idea.
I
think you can probably guess how the start-up experience went. It
was really fun and exciting at first, full of promise and big
paychecks. The ride was fast and stressful and was over in a
little more than a year. I'd given up security and comfort for risk
and excitement, and it landed me on the unemployment line. I
learned a lot at that start-up and enjoyed the experience, but the
day I remember most is the last one.
This
is how it replays in my mind..
It
was more than a decade ago when I found myself walking on a beach in
southern New Hampshire in the middle of the day on a Friday. I
skipped stones on the water and contemplated the events that had
unfolded so unexpectedly an hour before. What had started as an
innocent meeting after lunch with my boss saying, ‘follow me’,
had become a moment that would completely change the direction of my
life. As soon as I walked into that conference room and saw my human
resource director sitting on the other side of the big oak table, I
knew what was about to happen. I remember that feeling of shock and
utter helplessness as he explained the terms of our breakup. As I
walked on that beach that day, filled with rejection and anger at not
having seen it coming, I made a vow to myself.
I
will someday look back at this day and be able to say was the best
thing that ever happened to me.
Sitting
here now, in the middle of my little ice cream venture in the coolest
little town on the planet, I can wholeheartedly say it truly was the
best thing that ever happened to me. And by 'it', I mean not getting
that promotion.
'It' made room for nearly two years of amazing travel, the conception and
birth of the business I always wanted, and a new way of
life, free of the creative confines of a factory floor and a
claustrophobic cubicle.
The
first part of my ‘life after layoff’ involved driving
cross-country in my little Acura Integra. I bought an oversized road
atlas at WalMart. (think: pre-GPS, pre-Iphone days). I excitedly
highlighted a route from Boston to California and back. Into my trunk
went a tent, a sleeping bag, a handful of t-shirts and shorts, some
camping gear, a laptop, a camera, and my trusty journal.
It
was a morning in May that I pointed my car in the direction
of the left coast and began what would become a nearly three thousand
mile adventure, taking me to thirty-eight states including Alaska,
fifteen national parks, countless friends’ couches, seedy
campgrounds, and Motel 6’s. It was a summer of the road, just my
thoughts and me. I had no timetable. I had a rough idea of where I
wanted to go, who I wanted to visit, and what I wanted to see, but
after working ‘for the man’ for fifteen years, I was determined
to let this summer be about just ‘going with the flow’.
What
followed was an amazing, spiritual, eye-opening, cleansing journey
that took me to the best places our country has to offer, from the
Badlands to Grand Canyon to Telluride to Mitchell’s Corn Palace. I
met many interesting people and reconnected with distant friends and
family. I took thousands of pictures. I ate incredible amounts of bad
food. I survived a dust storm in Utah that made driving through a New
England blizzard feel like a walk on a tropical beach. I mountain
biked with bald eagles in the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska and drank 25
cent cups of coffee at the infamously tacky Wall Drug tourist
respite. Cathartic is the best word I can think of to describe it.
And
it was where ‘Hand-me-downs’ was born.
If
you haven’t leafed through the ice cream-tattered copy on the
counter of my ice cream shop, 'Hand-me-downs: Some little used tips
on life for my little brother', is a coffee table book I created
right around the time I opened the shop. I was inspired to write it
by my little brother. Not one of my own little brothers, although
neither is little anymore, but my ‘little’ from the Big Brother
program. His name is Ted, and we have been buddies since we were
introduced through the program when he was eight. His parents were
heroin addicts, and he, along with his four brothers and two sisters,
were raised by his saint-like grandparents. Despite all the adolescent
challenges that go along with growing up in such a high risk
situation, he turned out to be an amazing person. My role in that was
simply to spend some time with him every week and try to be a good
role model for him.
I
can say without hesitation being a Big Brother for Ted and my
association with that program has been one of the most satisfying
things I’ve ever done. I’ve gotten as much, if not more, out of
that experience than my buddy Ted. In the spirit of that feeling, I
wanted to create something that might serve to continue that role
after our lives began to head off in other directions. Hand-me-downs
began during those long rides across Kansas and Nebraska. I asked
myself, ‘if I was sitting with Ted on the night before he graduated
high school and about to start his life in ‘the real world’, what
kind of advice would I give him?’ What are the lessons I’ve
learned along my journey that might be helpful to him. What
observations could I ‘hand down’ to him that might help him
direct his life and his decisions in the future?
With
that thought in mind, I began to write down one-liners into a
notebook. ‘Be aggressive.’ ‘There are plenty of unhappy people
in big houses.’ ‘See the world.’ At first, the pen couldn’t
capture my thoughts fast enough. I went inward to retrieve all the
life lessons buried inside. I read inspiring books and articles
on-line to lubricate the process. I looked for signs along my
cross-country journey. I took pictures that would eventually become
part of the presentation of my ideas. That process continued for the
four months I spent living out of my gold semi-sports car.
When
I finally got weary of the road and traded in my tent for the comfort
of my own bed, I opened up that notebook full of thoughts,
affirmations, and inspirations and began to fill in the details. I
recalled and wrote about moments in my life that taught or reinforced
these beliefs I wanted to share with my little brother. It was a
long, slow process, but one I recall as fondly as my cross-country
adventure and the Australia/New Zealand backpacking trip I took
shortly after my return from my trek across America. The process of
capturing ‘the world according to me’ was not only satisfying for
its original purpose but helped me visualize the kind of life I
wanted going forward. I knew my life would never read as perfectly as
my thirty-eight little lessons with accompanying photographs, but
each were and still remain helpful reminders when my life gets bogged
down in the mundanes of daily life.
It
was nearly ten years ago when I gave the one hardcover copy of
Hand-me-downs to high school graduate little brother Ted. I look back
on that day with pride and satisfaction. I felt like I had offered
Ted and the world something of value. A tiny voice born out of the
experiences and observations of my life. I don’t know if Ted has
picked up that book since that day. I hope he has, but that’s out of my control now. It was the process that brought me joy - the
struggles of channeling my thoughts into a form that could be used
again by someone else. By me. It was immensely satisfying, and I
still get a charge out of seeing a customer leafing through the
tattered copy while they eat a cone of cookie dough. I smile every
time someone buys one for themselves or for a graduation gift. I
guess it’s a validation that my words mean something and that my
images bring them pleasure. I don’t make any money when I sell one,
but that doesn’t matter. It’s never been about the money. Aside
from having enough to pay the bills and feed your family, I've always
believed it should never be about the money anyway.
It
occurs to me that the life I had leading up to that day I shared the
book with Ted barely resembles the life that followed. I completely
reinvented my life to the point of being unrecognizable from the one
I enjoyed all those years before it. I left the confines and comfort
of corporate life for the challenges and insecurity of small business
ownership. It’s been a wild ride of learning, trying things, and
constantly adjusting the sail. Starting something new puts you out of
your comfort zone. It’s scary and uncertain, the prospect of
success or failure hinging on the decisions you make and the way you
direct your efforts. It’s also immensely satisfying and rewarding.
Creating something from nothing. My baby.
During
my annual winter break this year, I took a trip to the Galapagos
Islands. Located five hundred miles off the coast of Ecuador, this
ring of tiny islands is both breathtakingly beautiful and
fascinating. Teeming with wildlife that harbor little fear of humans,
these underdeveloped volcanic islands provide a rare opportunity to
see and interact with marine life. Sea lions lounge on park benches.
Marine iguanas scurry about on the beach. Playful baby sea lions swim
along with the adventurous snorkeler in a lagoon. Giant hundred year
old tortoises lumber along the side of a dirt road. It’s a natural
habitat unblemished by the progress of human civilization.
It’s
also the birthplace of evolutionary theory. Charles Darwin visited
Galapagos in 1835. It was here he noticed the subtle variations in
similar species from island to island, particularly the beaks of
finches. Darwin collected massive amounts of samples and data. This
data would eventually become the basis for his landmark thesis, ‘The
Origin of Species’. He observed that in just a few short
generations, the beaks of finches had changed to be better suited to
the unique environments of their island home.
They
evolved.
That’s
where it hit me. Isn’t that what life is all about? Evolving.
Darwin called it natural selection. Whether it be on a soccer field
or the thoughts in your mind or in a bird's beak. We are constantly
evolving. I’m not the same person I was ten years ago, and neither
are you. My basic philosophies may be similar, but life has molded me
into something different. Our cells are constantly dying and being
replaced by new ones. Life’s experiences teach us lessons, point us
in new directions, and show us what works and what doesn’t. A
decade ago, I steered my life onto a new path, and that’s brought
me new lessons and experiences. New teachers have come into my life.
I’ve made some of the same mistakes but I've tried to learn from
them. In a word, I've evolved.
The
day I decided to leave the big company job was the beginning of my
evolution.
Forcing
myself out of my comfort zone was the game-changer for me. It
changed everything. I may or may not know you. You may or may not
be itching to shake up your life right now. If you are, I hope my
story might in some small way convince you consider the possibility. You can do this. Time goes by fast, best get to it. I find it hard to believe it's been ten years since I peeked at my future through the window of 34 Cottage Street. It's been a great ride so far. I thank you for listening and for allowing me to continue to do what I do. The pleasure and honor is mine. Truly.
Stayed tuned for the long-promised follow-up to 'Hand-me-downs - Some Slightly Used Tips on Life', 'Ice Cream Parlor Wisdom', due to be completed sometime during the summer of 2014.
Hopefully. :)
And I hope you can stop by on Saturday (May 10th) to help us celebrate as my baby turns 10.
Jim
