I play old-man basketball every Thursday night. After hoops, we hit a local pub for post-game beer and camaraderie. Among the over-the-hill ballers is Oscar, Head of School for an urban high school in Boston that serves inner-city kids. This Thursday, I was discussing my business concept with Oscar. Given his work as an educator and advocate for underserved kids and families, I wanted his thoughts on making a real impact.
I’m inspired by the knowledge that making food from fresh milled wheat improves people’s health. I’m also inspired by the fact that a revival of a local wheat economy has game-changing financial and ecological benefits for small, family farmers. But, I think a business can do and be even more.
The existing model for most consumer food brands makes good business sense. Local, craft food companies are designed for affluent consumer segments. But, if we’re going to make healthy food more accessible, value needs to spread beyond those businesses and consumers. While I’m not sure on the structure, I’m interested in a new model that could win financially through sales at grocery stores and simultaneously improve a distressed neighborhood. Right now, I’m thinking that I want to operate my business in a “food desert”. But, I’m aware that as good as my intentions may seem, opening a business the wrong way could actually hurt people I’m hoping to benefit. Gentrification is complicated and it’s left me struggling with the question of how I can strengthen a neighborhood without threatening people who live there.
There was a lot swirling in my head as I questioned Oscar.
“You should bring this to Deval!”
Oscar knew that I had crossed paths with Deval Patrick during my run with my last company. (I met with Deval last Spring and even had his cell.)
It was midnight at a bar, I had just played basketball for 2 hours, and I had a couple of beers in the tank. I thought it was brilliant. But, things that seem brilliant at midnight in bars usually don’t seem that way the next morning. So, when I woke up, I felt unsure about the idea of contacting the former Governor of Massachusetts and the guy who recently has been urged by Obama’s inner-circle to run for president in 2020.
By the time I wrote my to-do list, it seemed like a pretty stupid idea. Regardless, I wrote “Contact Deval Patrick” just above the other random tasks I had for my day.
But, here’s the thing – I’m at a point now where I’ve pretty much freed myself from the fear of risk and the concern of what people think. That’s not to say I’m in some transcendent state of zen. Not even close. I have plenty of feelings of anxiety and self-doubt. And some nights, I don’t sleep that great. But, it’s mostly from the structure that’s missing when you don’t have a job and even more, when you’re no longer running a company. It’s structure created by meetings, emails, calls, and deliverables. So, sometimes I feel a sense of awkwardness from not having those on a daily basis and from not having a team to lead or customers to serve. But, I’m aware of an important truth: not having to be a part of the structure means I’ve been given an incredible opportunity to be free, creative, and to embrace the feeling of having nothing to lose. So, it’s not that hard to remind myself that I’m not supposed to act “normal”. I’m just supposed to do whatever I think gives me the best chance of making the best company I can. If I don’t, then I’m wasting the gift of freedom.
So, that’s why — even though I had no business doing it — I picked up my phone and texted Deval Patrick.
And you know what? He texted back. He texted back in like 2 minutes.
6 hours later we were sitting in his office talking about mills, wheat, and shared value.
He is incredible and probably the most impressive person I’ve ever met. I was so lucky to sit with him, share my vision, and get his insight for designing impact into the DNA of a business model.
But, there’s something else I’ll remember just as much from the whole experience. It’s that moment when I looked at my notebook and thought “F – it” and texted Deval Patrick.