On Profits vs. Benefits

OK, so I’m just as human as the next person, apparently…

I started Wild Goose with philanthropic interests in mind:  helping the needy, using our coffee as a vehicle for good, etc.  It has been an amazing journey of social enterprise; that strange balance between philanthropy and capitalism that can drive even the most honest-hearted person mad…

So I finish the final numbers from our espresso bar at yesterday’s University of Redlands graduation, and the only numbers I’m seeing are the bottom line profits.  And they aren’t nearly what I had hoped for; I was expecting to exceed last year’s numbers by a decent amount, and for some really basic reasons, we didn’t meet those goals.  I chalk the lesser numbers this year up to a learning experience, so no harm done.

But when people ask me how the graduation went, my first instinct is to talk about the profit numbers.  Because in a small business trying to grow, the profit is really important.  No profit, no business.  No business, no philanthropy.

The profit is modest, mind you (quite modest, at best), and it is all going toward paying off some equipment, and not a family vacation (which would be well-deserved, mind you), so please don’t misread my honesty as greed, just humanity.

Back to the confession:  When people ask how the event went, I find myself gravitating toward a numbers game, or a recollection of when it was busy, when it wasn’t, etc.  I tell them how much I appreciate my crew, how much fun we all have together; that making a latte shouldn’t be this much fun, but hanging around a group of people like we have in the Wild Goose crew is truly an honor and a privilege.

But internally, it was all about the bottom line, especially in the aftermath of a day that started at 5am and didn’t end until midnight; in my exhaustion I wanted to see what Wild Goose benefitted directly from all of our toil.

But the line just above the bottom line on my spreadsheet, the one labeled “Donations”, is just as noteworthy as the one after it, probably more.

It took my wife to point out (or rather, remind me) what was really important.  Realigning my perspective with a quick motion to the “Donations” line, she exclaimed a cool wow! that’s a lot of food, and that money will go far!
I had the opportunity to reflect tonight, while sitting in church, hearing about the difference between “work” and “burdens”.

Wild Goose is my “work”.  It energizes and challenges me.  Even when we have events that end up completely taxing, I never consider the event itself to be a burden.  It is fun—lots of hard work, but genuinely fun.  Selfishness, focusing on the bottom line, rather, is my “burden”.  It is the single thing that weighs me (and Wild Goose) down.  Given the opportunity to shed the burden of the weekend allowed me, for a moment, to see the work for what it was, without the cloudy lens of profit margins and bottom lines:

We were able to donate 338 pounds of food from the work we did yesterday, alone.

I sat there, picturing just how much food that really is.  Because when it’s a number on an Excel spreadsheet, I fail to see it for what it really is.  But when I picture how many loaves of bread that is, or how many bananas, or mangos, or bags of rice, or complete family meals, I get humbled.  Humbled by how selfish I can be, humbled by my own inability at times to stay focused on the original mission of the company.  Humbled that I would allow a number on the bottom of my spreadsheet to dominate my thinking, thus stealing the joy that comes from truly giving.

In addition to the food, we donated a portion of the proceeds to the University’s Community Service Learning program.  100% of that money generated from yesterday’s event will go toward building a community garden, where university students will have the opportunity to learn about sustainability, and a portion of the vegetables from that garden will ultimately end up at Redlands Family Services, another food bank (among myriad other things) in town.

So, not only will yesterday’s events have generated 338 pounds of food in the short term, it will also yield a harvest (pun intended) of sustainable vegetables to another food bank here in town—one that will have its own multiplicative effect for years to come.

And when I think about a single day’s work, a long day, but still a single day, providing over 300 pounds of food right now, and a regenerative source of food for the next several years, I don’t think about the “burdens” of profit or selfishness.

I think about real people, real families, real stomachs aching for real food.

And I picture just how much food 338 pounds really is, and I picture a vegetable garden run by university students, and profit margins fade out of view in favor of a better world, a better town that I’m living in, and unburdened rest from a hard days’ work…

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