Glamorous
Whoever decided that being a coffee buyer was a glamorous occupation? Often we get somewhat romanticized by journalists or industry types. (See "God in a Cup" or the various blog posts out there for evidence.) Other times we get portrayed as Indiana Jones-types traveling the world on spectacular adventures and bringing home priceless treasures in the form of otherworldly coffee beans. There exists a perception that being a coffee buyer is like living a dream, journeying to exotic locations on a regular basis and exploring remote areas still un-trodden by the tourist set.
As with most stereotypes, there is likely some truth to be found in the portrayals. I cannot speak for other buyers out there (most do not travel nearly as much as myself and there are only handful of us out there who spend more than 3/4 of the year out of the country), but I can relate a few of my own observations, straight from the horse's mouth (and yes, sometimes I feel like a horse, strange as that may sound).
One of the greatest benefits of this work is indeed the access to places that would be difficult to reach as a tourist. I often spend time in isolated communities tucked away deep in the mountains or forests, virtually inaccessible save for an excellent 4x4 and a local with knowledge of the unmarked routes. I've had to swim across rivers and hike for several hours to reach places that do not have road access at all. It makes for a satisfyingly raw cultural experience, and there is something altogether exciting about being among the first foreigners to ever set foot in some of these villages. Having a clear reason to be there makes it all the more interesting, for I'm invariably welcomed with open arms as someone who is in a position to make a positive difference in the livelihoods of the local residents. That feels great, and when it all works, the personal gratification at having helped someone in a way few others could is worth whatever sacrifices it takes to make it happen.
And certainly there is a lot to say about arriving in a place and making friends quickly with loads of people who share a decades-long entanglement with coffee. Most of us are so involved with coffee that it is hard to imagine a life without it. We rally around it, we indulge in it, and we celebrate it. There is a profoundly exciting feeling that galvanizes us when we realize we can work together to change our relationship with coffee in a way that will allow everyone to extract more value from the beans than was previously thought possible. Those friendships only deepen as the years go by, and at this point I could travel to more than 20 countries and have a place to stay at a moment's notice.
Of course it must be acknowledged that coffee happens to thrive in some of the most beautiful and culturally rich places on this earth...it has taken me to Victoria Falls, to Machu Piccu, to Kilimanjaro, to Mayan Ruins in Guatemala and Honduras, to Lake Toba and Papua New Guinea, to Lake Titicaca and to Oaxaca. The list goes on and on. Anywhere in the tropics where there are mountains, you will also find coffee.
This work gives us a chance to learn new languages and to explore taste in a way that few ever do. While I do sample thousands of coffees each year, I am discussing taste more expansively to encompass tantalizing fruits that cannot be found in the US and delicious home-cooked meals from countries with fascinating culinary traditions.
Having the ability to deliver thrilling coffees to consumers back home is deeply gratifying, and there is much to be said in favor of being a coffee buyer. Still, it is not as romantic as it seems. It takes a toll, and without a strong conviction and clear passion, I cannot imagine many people making the choice to endure it for very long. How can this be? Let me count the ways.
It is nearly impossible to have a family, or even to maintain a decent romantic relationship, when one is rarely in the same place for more than a week or two. Working on coffee purchasing in 18 countries means being on the road constantly, often in areas where there is no phone service, no internet, and no means of communication with a loved one. Personal relationships fall by the wayside. Of the coffee buyers I know who travel a lot, every single one has either gotten divorced or settled into long-term bachelorhood. Friendships at home suffer from neglect.
Hobbies evaporate. There is always more work to do than can be accomplished. As a result, one gets stuck in an endless pursuit where there is always more improvement to be made in the coffee quality, in the systems that create it, in the way we transport it, and in the ability of people to control it. This work has no end, no final resolution, and no box to check when the task is complete. For this reason, the passionate coffee buyer feels a constant pressure to keep doing more and submits to it at the expense of other activities. Most hobbies require available time and regularity to indulge, and these are two things that the active coffee buyer is always without. I once thought I might pursue a career in music, but I haven't touched my drums in almost seven years.
The body suffers from long periods without activity. While the time spent hiking around farms is wonderful, it represents only a fraction of the actual time on the road. The majority of the life of a coffee buyer is spent on planes, in cars, in airports and in lines. Take this recent trip to Indonesia (which I will report on in great detail in the next post). Let's add it up. Two and a half weeks total. Here's the tally:
2 days - Flying from Chicago to Minneapolis to Tokyo to Singapore to Medan. More than 30 hours sitting on planes, the rest sitting in airports waiting for planes.
1 day - Driving from Medan to Lintong, fresh off the flight.
1 day - Driving from Lintong back to Medan, just in time to attend a political function with lots of people from both the local industry and the ministry of agriculture.
1 day - Driving from Medan to Aceh, a trip that took more than 13 hours.
1 day - Driving from Takengon to Banda Aceh.
1 day - Flying from Banda Aceh to Jakarta, driving through Jakarta rush-hour traffic just in time to arrive late to another political function.
1 day - Flying from Jakarta to Makassar, then driving 7 hours to Toraja (Sulawesi).
1 day - Driving from Toraja back to Makassar, then flying to Jakarta.
1 day - Cumulative driving time while up in the coffee areas, jostling over rough roads to get from one place to another at low velocity.
2 days - Flying home to Chicago.
Total trip: 16 days.
Total flying/driving time: 12 days.
That's a lot of time spent sitting around. Of course there is interesting and important conversation that takes place during many of these long drives. Of course the scenery is beautiful and fascinating. But you get the idea...it can be really exasperating sometimes. The coffee buyer doesn't usually take time off. In order to make the most of trips, most of us work 13 or 14 hours days, from morning to bedtime. On coffee buying trips there are no weekends-we work 7 days a week, because it is necessary in order to accomplish what we are there to do.
Everyone who travels a lot is no stranger to the digestive tract complications that inevitably come along despite whatever precautions are taken. Montezuma tracks me down at least six or seven times each year, and more serious intestinal difficulties strike once or twice in each calendar. I'm fortunate to have a fairly healthy immune system, but when I do go down, I go down hard. Usually there is no choice but to fight through and continue, since time is limited and there is still work to be done.
All of this stuff is a load to bear, to be sure, but I don't even think it is the most burdensome of the things a coffee buyer must shoulder. Even more powerful is the psychological stress that accompanies the knowledge that back home there are things not getting done, things that only the buyer can take care of, and people waiting on YOU to make happen. The understanding that the "to-do" list is just piling up and that upon returning to the office there is a pile of stuff awaiting your attention is a constant source of frustration.
Yet even this is minor compared to the knowledge that there are so many farmers who are depending on you to help them advance. Intelligentsia buys coffee from dozens of estate farms and cooperatives, and the total number of farmers we support through our purchasing numbers in the multiple of thousands. We are in a unique position to help a lot of people, and the more work we put in, the better the results. So taking time off is just not in the cards. And there are never any guarantees.
Sometimes things work out great, sometimes they fail-not from lack of effort but from the unexpected curveballs that Life likes to throw. Always there are unforeseen challenges, making it necessary to be nimble and reflective. Transport logistics fail and cause uncontrollable delay in shipments. Inept mill managers or farmer organizations screw up months of planning. Corrupt administrators try to take advantage of their own cooperative members. Language barriers can often frustrate communication. Mixed messages come from certifiers who don't understand the place of quality in the sustainability equation. There is rarely any certainty, and like any kind of development work, it takes years before any single project can become truly self-sustaining. Until then they are fragile, subject to trouble that may come from any direction-internal management issues within cooperatives; political meddling from corrupt local governments; climate events like hurricanes, frosts, tsunamis, or earthquakes; attack from fungus plagues or pests; sudden changes in lending policies by local banks...the obstacles to progress in coffee farming are numerable and potent. It takes a lot of faith and willpower on everyone's part in order to push through the inevitable surprises and setbacks. Agriculture is unpredictable and unforgiving and not for the weak of heart.
Still, despite the exceptionally demanding nature of this work, I am glad to do what I do. Much of the time it is fun, even with the negatives. And I am most certainly a better person as a result of the experiences that come with the job. I just had to get this off my chest. Maybe it was the especially grueling nature of this last trip, maybe it was the fact I got stuck in a middle seat with no movies during the 11 hour flight from Tokyo, or perhaps I'm just tired. My next post will be more fun, I promise.
Found in Direct Trade, Origin