52 Cups of Coffee: Inspiring and insightful stories for navigating life’s uncertainties (6 page)

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 Chic
ago 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 ask
ed, “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 ask
ed, “And then what?”

The businessman replie
d, “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 prove
s 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.