For a decade, I climbed the corporate ladder at Chase Bank, mastering the world of commercial lending and business strategy. The work was reliable, the trajectory predictable, and the paycheck steady. But when a prime piece of real estate hit the market along a busy highway in Damascus, Oregon, I glimpsed a different kind of future—one that would test everything I thought I knew about risk and reward.
The Leap of Faith
The lot was perfectly positioned on a main thoroughfare with zero coffee competition in sight. When I shared my vision with my parents—seasoned entrepreneurs who'd built their excavation company from the ground up—their response was blunt: "You're a banker, not a barista. What could you possibly know about coffee?"
Fair point. But I knew business fundamentals: financial statements, cash flow management, operational systems. The coffee craft itself? That could be mastered with dedication and the right mentor.
I found a local roaster willing to take me under their wing, spending six months perfecting my technique by serving my father's construction crews. Their honest feedback became my training ground.
Building More Than a Business
September 2019 marked our grand opening. What started as a simple coffee stand quickly evolved into something bigger—food carts, a beer trailer, even an intimate concert venue. We weren't just selling caffeine; we were creating Damascus's first real community hub, filling a void that had existed for years.
Despite our ambitious vision, reality hit hard by early 2023. The coffee operation was bleeding money. Some mornings, I seriously considered shuttering the stand and focusing solely on our more profitable bar operations.
The Accidental Viral Moment
I'd been casually documenting our journey on TikTok since 2021—nothing polished, just authentic glimpses into daily operations. Then I discovered something wonderfully absurd online: massive 34-ounce plastic buckets complete with handles and straws, like something you'd find at a county fair lemonade stand.
On a whim, I ordered fifteen of them and filmed myself crafting an enormous iced Americano. The video was rough around the edges, shot quickly without much thought. But sometimes the internet has its own plans.
Overnight, that 62-second clip exploded across social media.
When Success Becomes Overwhelming
The next morning brought chaos I wasn't prepared for. Cars stretched 15-20 deep, backing up onto the highway. With only one barista scheduled, I frantically called my boyfriend for backup—despite his complete lack of espresso machine experience. We were drowning, but the energy was absolutely intoxicating.
That single video transformed our entire trajectory. Sales didn't just increase—they doubled, then tripled. We've since expanded our team, extended operating hours, and launched a "bucket refill" program offering loyal customers a dollar discount for bringing containers back—a sustainable practice that's built genuine community loyalty.
The Ripple Effect
Our story now draws pilgrims from across the country. Regular customers drive ninety minutes every Sunday for their bucket fix. Others have made special trips from Idaho, Texas, and beyond to experience "the viral bucket shop" firsthand.
The attention has been surreal. Local news outlets featured our story, major food companies reached out for partnerships, and strangers recognize me around town from TikTok. Being called "famous" feels strange when you know you just had a silly idea that caught lightning in a bottle.
From Spreadsheets to Community Impact
What brings me the most satisfaction isn't the revenue spike—it's watching our little operation breathe life into Damascus. Before we opened, the town lacked venues for concerts, vendor markets, or car shows. Now our lot hosts all these events, with the coffee stand as the beating heart of it all.
My banking background proved invaluable for managing finances, training staff, and building operational systems. But what I never anticipated was the profound fulfillment that comes from creating joy in your own backyard.
I thought I was abandoning security for uncertainty. For a while, that gamble looked like it might fail spectacularly. Then social media rewrote the entire script.
Today, instead of debating whether to close our doors, I'm strategizing how to manage overwhelming demand. These are infinitely better problems to solve—and I wouldn't exchange this journey for anything.