Pour Your Heart Into It (6 page)

By the time I landed at Kennedy Airport, I knew in my heart that this was it. I jumped into a taxi and went home to Sheri.

That was the way I met Starbucks, and neither of us has been the same since.

CHAPTER 3
To Italians, Espresso Is Like an Aria

Some men see things as they are and say “Why?”
I dream things that never were, and say “Why not?”

—G
EORGE
B
ERNARD
S
HAW,
OFTEN
QUOTED
BY
R
OBERT
F. K
ENNEDY

I
F
Y
OU
S
AY
Y
OU
N
EVER
H
AD
A
C
HANCE,

P
ERHAPS
Y
OU
N
EVER
T
OOK
A
C
HANCE

I couldn’t stop thinking about Starbucks. Although it was much smaller than the multinationals I had been working for in New York, it was so much more intriguing, like a jazz tune you can’t get out of your head. I could see so many ways I could contribute.

The next time Jerry Baldwin and his wife, Jane, were in New York, Sheri and I invited them out to dinner and the theater. We all hit it off. On a lark, I asked him: “Do you think there’s any way I could fit into Starbucks?”

He was just beginning to ponder the need to hire trained professionals, so he was willing to think about it. We discussed ways I could help with sales and marketing and merchandising.

It took me a year to convince Jerry Baldwin to hire me. The idea appealed to him, but others in the company were nervous about bringing in someone they regarded as a high-powered New Yorker. It’s always a risk to take on a manager who hasn’t grown up with the values of the company.

Some days, I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining the notion. Taking a job at Starbucks would mean giving up that $75,000 a year job, the prestige, the car, and the co-op, and for what? Moving 3,000 miles across the country to join a tiny outfit with 5 coffee stores didn’t make sense to a lot of my friends and family. My mother was especially concerned.

“You’re doing well, you have a future,” she argued. “Don’t give it up for a small company nobody’s ever heard of.”

Over the next year, I found reasons to get back to Seattle several times. I always made sure I had time to spend with Jerry. We got to be comfortable with each other, sharing thoughts about merchandise Starbucks might carry, products that should or shouldn’t bear the brand name, ways to build up customer loyalty. On each visit, I came prepared with a long list of ideas, and listening to Jerry critique them helped me understand his vision for Starbucks.

Jerry confided in me about a notion he had that Starbucks could one day expand outside Seattle. He was considering opening a store in Portland, Oregon, the nearest big U.S. city. He knew the company could be bigger, but seemed ambivalent about the changes growth might bring. I told him it was a great opportunity.

The more I thought about it, the more promising an expansion seemed. Starbucks had such tremendous potential. All my friends in New York were wowed by the coffee once they tasted it. Why wouldn’t people all over America have the same reaction? Surely, the market was bigger than just a few thousand coffee lovers in the Northwest. Jerry had such a missionary zeal; it made sense to spread Starbucks’ excitement about coffee beans beyond Seattle. At that time, I knew of no other high-end coffee-bean stores in New York or any other city.

Although I wasn’t bold enough to become an entrepreneur just yet, part of my fascination with Starbucks was the chance to take a hand in shaping a growing company. I was willing to take a salary cut if I could get a small piece of equity in a business with great promise. I had never owned a share of stock in anything, but I knew that if Jerry would give me even a small share in Starbucks, I would channel all my passion and energy into this job as I never had before.

Sheri liked the idea. We were ready to get married and settle down, and she could see how excited I was about Seattle and Starbucks. Even though it would mean a setback in her career as a designer, she, too, was ready to leave New York. As the daughter of an Ohio entrepreneur, she understood instinctively the value of taking risks and following your dreams.

As the months passed, I pursued Jerry more than he pursued me. We started talking about a job at Starbucks in which I would be head of marketing and oversee the retail stores. I told him I would want a small piece of equity, and he seemed receptive to the suggestion.

In the spring of 1982, Jerry and Gordon invited me to San Francisco to meet their silent partner, a shareholder and board member named Steve Donovan, over dinner. I was convinced that after all my lobbying, I had the job all but sewn up. I figured I would fly back to New York with an offer in hand.

This dinner, for me, was the capstone of a job courtship with Jerry that had lasted nearly a year, so I was determined it would go well. I dressed in one of my best suits and walked from my hotel to the restaurant, a high-end Italian place called Donatello’s, uphill from the financial district.

I passed the restaurant and circled the block once, to pump up my confidence, despite a light rain. In a way, I had waited my whole career for this dinner. I knew Jerry had told them I had ideas for growing the company, and this dinner was a chance for Steve and Gordon to assess my capabilities and how well I might fit into the company.

Donatello’s was an odd choice, more stuffy than I had expected, with white linen tablecloths and waiters in bow ties. I was waiting at the table when Jerry, Gordon, and Steve arrived. Steve was a tall, blond, classically handsome man. The three of them were wearing sports jackets, less formal than I was, but since they were all at least ten years older, I was glad I had dressed formally.

The dinner went well, exceptionally well. I liked Steve, an intellectual whose interests ranged from executive recruiting to research on meditation. Like Jerry and Gordon, he had traveled widely, read a great deal, and had a lot of interesting insights. Still, I was confident, as I talked, that I was impressing him. I kept glancing at Jerry, and I could see approval in his eyes. After four years of college in the Midwest, I knew how to tone down the New York in me, chatting easily about Italy and Sweden and San Francisco over appetizers and soup.

We ordered a bottle of Barolo and were soon conversing like long-time friends. When the main course came, though, I switched the subject to Starbucks. “You’ve got a real jewel,” I said. I told them how I had served Starbucks coffee to my friends in New York, how enthused they had been by its dark, rich taste. New Yorkers would love Starbucks coffee. So would people in Chicago, Boston, Washington, everywhere.

Starbucks could be so much bigger, I argued. It could grow beyond the Northwest, up and down the West Coast. It could even, perhaps, become a national company. It could have dozens of stores, maybe even hundreds. The Starbucks name could become synonymous with great coffee—a brand that guaranteed world-class quality.

“Think of it,” I said. “If Starbucks opened stores across the United States and Canada, you could share your knowledge and passion with so many more people. You could enrich so many lives.”

By the end of the meal, I could tell I had charmed them with my youthful enthusiasm and energy. They smiled at one another and seemed inspired by my vision. We parted, shaking hands, and I nodded and congratulated myself as I walked back to the hotel. I called Sheri, waking her up. “It was fantastic,” I told her. “I think everything is on track.”

Even with the three-hour time difference, I had trouble sleeping that night. Every aspect of my life was about to change. I started envisioning how I would give notice, where Sheri and I would get married, how we’d move to Seattle. Perhaps we could buy a house with a yard. And Starbucks—even the name rang with magic. I was under its spell already.

Twenty-four hours later, I was back at my desk in New York, and when my secretary told me Jerry was on the line, I reached for the phone eagerly.

“I’m sorry, Howard. I have bad news.” I couldn’t believe the somber tone of his voice, or the words. The three of them had talked it over, and decided not to hire me.

“But why?”

“It’s too risky, too much change.” He paused, clearly pained at the message he was having to deliver. “Your plans sound great, but that’s just not the vision we have for Starbucks.”

Instead of charming them, I had spooked them. They feared that I would be disruptive. I wasn’t going to fit. I felt like a bride, halfway down the aisle, watching her groom back out the side door.

I was too shell-shocked to think clearly. I saw my whole future flash in front of me and then crash and burn.

That night I went home and poured my despair out to Sheri. I still believed so much in the future of Starbucks that I couldn’t accept “no” as a final answer. This was, I thought, a turning point in my life. It had to happen; I had to join Starbucks. I wanted to convey to Jerry what was in my heart.

The next day, I called Jerry back.

“Jerry, you’re making a terrible mistake,” I said. “After all this time, we owe it to each other to isolate the issues. What exactly is the reason?”

Very calmly, we talked it over. The concern was this: The partners did not want to give me license to change the company. They worried that by hiring me they would be committing themselves to a new direction for Starbucks. They also thought my style and energy would clash with the existing culture.

I drew upon all the passion I had about Starbucks, about coffee, about this opportunity, and spoke from my deepest convictions. I told him how much I could offer, from my professional sales and marketing skills to the broad perspective I had developed managing a national sales force for Hammarplast. I was used to playing on a larger playing field and could plan and execute whatever expansion strategy we mutually agreed upon.

“Jerry,” I protested, “this isn’t about me. It’s about you. The destiny of Starbucks is at stake. We’ve talked so much about what Starbucks can be. It’s your company. It’s your vision. You’re the only one who can achieve it. Somebody has to be courageous here, and it’s you. Don’t let them talk you out of something that you believe in your heart.”

Jerry heard me out, then fell silent. “Let me sleep on it,” he said. “I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

Perhaps he slept; I didn’t.

The next morning, I picked up the phone on the first ring. “You were right,” he said. “I’m sorry for the twenty-four-hour impasse. We’re going forward. You have the job, Howard, and you have my commitment. When can you come?”

A whole new world had just opened up in front of my eyes, like the scene in
The Wizard of Oz
when everything changes from black and white to color. This barely imaginable dream was really going to happen.

Although I would have to take a steep cut in pay, Jerry agreed to give me a small equity share. I would own a tiny slice of Starbucks’ future.

In the fifteen years since then, I’ve often wondered:
What would have happened had I just accepted his decision?
Most people, when turned down for a job, just go away.

Similar scenarios have subsequently played out in my life, in other settings and with other issues. So many times, I’ve been told it can’t be done. Again and again, I’ve had to use every ounce of perseverance and persuasion I can summon to make things happen.

Life is a series of near misses. But a lot of what we ascribe to luck is not luck at all. It’s seizing the day and accepting responsibility for your future. It’s seeing what other people don’t see, and pursuing that vision, no matter who tells you not to.

In daily life, you get so much pressure from friends and family and colleagues, urging you to take the easy way, to follow the prevailing wisdom, that it can be difficult not to simply accept the status quo and do what’s expected of you. But when you really believe—in yourself, in your dream—you just have to do everything you possibly can to take control and make your vision a reality.

No great achievement happens by luck.

A B
LACK
C
LOUD
A
PPEARS

Now that I finally had the offer, I had to start planning for my move. My main concern, of course, was Sheri. “This is an opportunity I can’t pass up,” I told her. “I want you to go with me to Seattle for a visit. Before you say yes or no, you need to see the city and experience it for yourself.”