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away. Reaching into my briefcase, I pulled out the bag of Sumatra beans, opened the top, and sniffed. I leaned back, and my mind started wandering.
    I believe in destiny. In Yiddish, they call it bashert . At that moment, flying 35,000 feet above the earth, I could feel the tug of Starbucks. There was something magic about it, a passion and authenticity I had never experienced in business.
    Maybe, just maybe, I could be part of that magic. Maybe I could help it grow. How would it feel to build a business, as Jerry and Gordon were doing? How would it feel to own equity, not just collect a paycheck? What could I bring to Starbucks that could make it even better than it was? The opportunities seemed as wide open as the land I was flying over.
    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