When we turn pro, we give up a life with which we may have become extremely comfortable.
Stephen Pressfield
Stephen Pressfield says in his books that everyone who turns pro can point the exact moment they went from acting as an amateur to a professional. My moment was the first time I enjoyed eating a grape.
It was about two years ago at 6:30 AM. I’d just finished opening up the store at my barista side-gig. It was still pitch black outside but I’d been there long enough to earn my first break, I sat in the long hallway that was our Starbucks. By this time, the only items I’d ingested were two shots of espresso, a sip of coffee, and half a butter croissant. The imminent caffeine crash was panging in my head and if the grumbling in my stomach wasn’t enough an indicator, I knew I had to eat.
Most food offered at the company is some variety of bread with little sustenance in it. Glucose was not going to carry my through the impending rush of peak, so I’d often flip-flopped between an oatmeal contraption and the protein boxes. Each protein box contained:
1. a protein (duh),
2. apple slices, and
3. grapes.
I’d always hated grapes. The texture of them and the stem pit bring to mind the puncturing of an eyeball with each bite, which is weirdly not foreign to me. I have been made to eat fish eye before under the pressure of a breakup (spoiler: we broke up anyways). Still, grapes somehow seemed worse. Yet, I’d always wanted to enjoy grapes. My mom often snacked on them in the middle of the grocery store. Many charcuterie boards have been decorated with them. Then of course there is wine, and as someone who doesn’t drink I’d at least like a glimpse at that flavor again. They must provide some good experience if this many people like them.
I wanted to be healthier anyways and I think at the time, they represented a much healthier lifestyle. Someone who enjoyed grapes could also one day learn to enjoy pineapples. They could eat raisins, and then all the sudden they wouldn’t just be fishing all the M&M’s out of trail mixes.
So I set out to do it. February 17, 2024 was the day I was going to start liking grapes.
I sat down at one of our two-seated round tables and tore open the plastic seal. I carved through the hard-boiled eggs, the loaf of multi-grain bread with peanut butter topping, and the apple slices. Then finally, onto the grapes. They were these tiny purple grapes, each one slightly discolored. I was having a stare down with the iris of the stem pit as I felt the tension growing. One part of me screaming “wait until tomorrow” and the other saying “get it over with.” But I was committed and I’d already made it this far.
In one swoop I thrust the grape into my mouth, and in that moment I could remember the exact sensation of crushing the fish eye between my teeth. With each bite, I could feel the muscles of my face tensing and contracting. Twitching. There was a tingle that kept running down my spine as I chewed, chewed, chewed, and then finally swallowed. A grimace stained my face, but I did it. I ate the grape.
The next day, I ate two. Then three. Before long, I was eating the whole package. I refuse to waste!
I hope it’s clear that the dramatics of this are greatly exaggerated. Still, every moment of discomfort I face now I compare back to this. Before I get on a stage, there are times when I face the same discomfort. Or the first time I played at a jazz jam, it was there too. But I look back on that time because I survived and I’ve grown. I made a decision to stick through the discomfort over an extended period to be healthier and acquire a new taste. It’s a silly thing and a little dumb, but I attribute a lot of who I am now to that moment.
Now? I eat grapes every day. It’s one of my favorite fruits! But still working on pineapples.
What was the moment you turned pro?
