When i was finishing my master's, i got a call from an old neighbor, Kathy, whose son John was a great bud. She had split with John Sr. and married Rodger Owen, owner of the Bucks County Coffee Company. She asked whether i'd consider being at the center of the company's new marketing campaign. They wanted someone to travel around a five-state area, giving away free coffee in a customized 1950 Chevy panel truck. My curiosity piqued, i headed to NY for auditions. In a fancy Manhattan advertising firm, i met with the Owens and the suits. Rodger was an affable, guarded fellow. I was offered the job, which was to consist of event appearances, visits to the forty-three coffee kiosks, and stopping people on the street. It sounded like a hoot, and at $12 an hour, i was in.
I tell people about my one year "in the corporate world", but that's a little misleading. It was fun, independent, and i brought joy wherever i went. "Rob, the coffee guy", that was me. After i left, my successors had to go by the name of Rob, because my name was everywhere.
My vehicle was a pip. It had an oo-gah horn. The panels were tan and brown, with company logos and coffee mugs. In the back, i could carry up to twenty-four gallons of coffee in space age, six-gallon insulated shuttles which kept the coffee at a servable temperature for twelve hours. I was decked out with all the fixings. In summer i carried iced coffee. I wore khakis and classy, cotton company shirts. If i needed to go on foot, i had the jet-pack. I could strap four gallons of beverage onto my back, with a nozzle dispenser at my side and creamers and sweeteners in my belt pack. I was a one-man coffee band. I showed up at openings and fairs and parades and car shows, just giving away the good stuff. At least they assured me it was the good stuff...we had dozens of varieties we sold in our kiosks, and in the high end grocery stores which carried us. The company was a nut company as well, and i loved nibbling the snack mixes when i got home from my day's adventure, often long after the other workers had left. I was often there and gone in the morning before anyone else too. The coffee maker for my shuttles was an impressive piece of $40,000 hardware. The filters were about two feet wide. A couple times i did a gig without the truck, and when that happened i was given one of the company Lexuses. I once tried to estimate how much i was entrusted with, and it was in the hundreds of thousands.
There was a bit of an irony in all this, in that i didn't actually drink coffee. Ha! So i had to lie about that in my public persona (i did like the iced coffee, though). The public always reacted extremely well to me...they usually just smiled goofy smiles. Once in a while i got a coffee afficionado who would talk my ear off, and test the coffee knowledge i had been able to absorb.
Our market area was Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, and D.C. When i spent a day at one of our kiosks, the baristas and managers were excited to see me. The truck and i were on posters, on "I saw Rob!" coupons, and a billboard in Philadelphia. There was a game on the company website called "Rob's Coffee Adventure". We filmed a commercial, but i don't know whether it was ever finished. After six months, i was given a raise to $15 an hour.
I had the most fun when i was freelancing, and always pushed for more of that. My girlfriend, whose best friend worked in one of the kiosks, loved it when i let her ride in the truck. I got my first disconcerting mini-taste of celebrity, when someone recognized me outside of work.
It was a solitary job. Sometimes days would go by without seeing a single other person at the warehouse. I only had after-hours silliness there one time, when a local barista i had become chummy with visited me with her friend while i cleaned up, and we had a whipped cream fight that sprawled over the entire spooky place.
I did develop one very gentle and enduring crush that year, with Rodger's secretary Nora. Her presence melted me, she looked a little like a monchichi, and it was only my professionalism that kept me from telling her how i felt. I wrote her a loving letter when i left, but never heard back.
After one year, i was starting to feel that i had gotten all i was going to get from the job. Even though it was indeed a hoot of enormous proportions, i was ultimately selling something which i didn't feel passion for. And my Mom was never thrilled with me being there, as the company had "unhired" her husband Chuck. So when my grandmother in Florida fell down and couldn't live alone anymore...it felt right on several levels that i move on from this chapter of my life. The day i went to tell Kathy, she started talking first and told me that it didn't make sense for me to not be on salary. I told her i had come to that same conclusion, but then i told her about my grandmother. She was understanding and appreciative, and gave me a hug to speed me on my way.
The sweetest gig i did in all my time there was when i parked the truck behind the crowd at a Pete Seeger state park concert. It was amazing.
At the office, one of the VPs and i estimated that i had given out fifty thousand cups of coffee. I have a little replica of the truck, which Rodger gave to me after one of his friends made it for him. It was a wonderful year, and it ended in a way that was just right. I smiled at life, and headed down to the sunshine state.
I tell people about my one year "in the corporate world", but that's a little misleading. It was fun, independent, and i brought joy wherever i went. "Rob, the coffee guy", that was me. After i left, my successors had to go by the name of Rob, because my name was everywhere.
My vehicle was a pip. It had an oo-gah horn. The panels were tan and brown, with company logos and coffee mugs. In the back, i could carry up to twenty-four gallons of coffee in space age, six-gallon insulated shuttles which kept the coffee at a servable temperature for twelve hours. I was decked out with all the fixings. In summer i carried iced coffee. I wore khakis and classy, cotton company shirts. If i needed to go on foot, i had the jet-pack. I could strap four gallons of beverage onto my back, with a nozzle dispenser at my side and creamers and sweeteners in my belt pack. I was a one-man coffee band. I showed up at openings and fairs and parades and car shows, just giving away the good stuff. At least they assured me it was the good stuff...we had dozens of varieties we sold in our kiosks, and in the high end grocery stores which carried us. The company was a nut company as well, and i loved nibbling the snack mixes when i got home from my day's adventure, often long after the other workers had left. I was often there and gone in the morning before anyone else too. The coffee maker for my shuttles was an impressive piece of $40,000 hardware. The filters were about two feet wide. A couple times i did a gig without the truck, and when that happened i was given one of the company Lexuses. I once tried to estimate how much i was entrusted with, and it was in the hundreds of thousands.
There was a bit of an irony in all this, in that i didn't actually drink coffee. Ha! So i had to lie about that in my public persona (i did like the iced coffee, though). The public always reacted extremely well to me...they usually just smiled goofy smiles. Once in a while i got a coffee afficionado who would talk my ear off, and test the coffee knowledge i had been able to absorb.
Our market area was Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, and D.C. When i spent a day at one of our kiosks, the baristas and managers were excited to see me. The truck and i were on posters, on "I saw Rob!" coupons, and a billboard in Philadelphia. There was a game on the company website called "Rob's Coffee Adventure". We filmed a commercial, but i don't know whether it was ever finished. After six months, i was given a raise to $15 an hour.
I had the most fun when i was freelancing, and always pushed for more of that. My girlfriend, whose best friend worked in one of the kiosks, loved it when i let her ride in the truck. I got my first disconcerting mini-taste of celebrity, when someone recognized me outside of work.
It was a solitary job. Sometimes days would go by without seeing a single other person at the warehouse. I only had after-hours silliness there one time, when a local barista i had become chummy with visited me with her friend while i cleaned up, and we had a whipped cream fight that sprawled over the entire spooky place.
I did develop one very gentle and enduring crush that year, with Rodger's secretary Nora. Her presence melted me, she looked a little like a monchichi, and it was only my professionalism that kept me from telling her how i felt. I wrote her a loving letter when i left, but never heard back.
After one year, i was starting to feel that i had gotten all i was going to get from the job. Even though it was indeed a hoot of enormous proportions, i was ultimately selling something which i didn't feel passion for. And my Mom was never thrilled with me being there, as the company had "unhired" her husband Chuck. So when my grandmother in Florida fell down and couldn't live alone anymore...it felt right on several levels that i move on from this chapter of my life. The day i went to tell Kathy, she started talking first and told me that it didn't make sense for me to not be on salary. I told her i had come to that same conclusion, but then i told her about my grandmother. She was understanding and appreciative, and gave me a hug to speed me on my way.
The sweetest gig i did in all my time there was when i parked the truck behind the crowd at a Pete Seeger state park concert. It was amazing.
At the office, one of the VPs and i estimated that i had given out fifty thousand cups of coffee. I have a little replica of the truck, which Rodger gave to me after one of his friends made it for him. It was a wonderful year, and it ended in a way that was just right. I smiled at life, and headed down to the sunshine state.
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