The first time I read about Before the Coffee Gets Cold, I was sitting in a café not unlike the one in the book — quiet, a little narrow, the kind of place where time seems to gather rather than pass. Outside, the city was still in its morning hurry, but inside there was only the soft hum of the espresso machine and the faint clatter of cups.
The trails in Switzerland don’t rush you. They invite you — past cowbells, into fir shade, up where the air turns glassy. Somewhere between a ridgeline and a mountain hut, a small yellow sign rewired how I think about work.
The light tilts, the colors deepen, pavements shine after quick showers. Autumn moves the city from one state to another without fuss or apology. That same current runs through our workdays: from tiny thresholds to bigger crossings it’s all about the art of leaving one thing cleanly and arriving well at the next. These transitions come in all sizes — from the eyelash-thin switch between two tasks that lasts a heartbeat to the long arcs that reshape teams, companies, and people over months, sometimes years.
1. The Pattern: Crisis Hits, and We Look Up Take a moment and think back to the last time you felt truly uncertain — maybe during a global pandemic, a major reorganization at work, or a personal crisis. Chances are, you found yourself gravitating toward someone who seemed to have all the answers. A boss. A political figure. A loud voice in a crowded room.
You’re in a meeting. A big, bold, slightly terrifying opportunity lands on the table. You’re not fully prepared. Your team’s maxed out. Your to-do list? A crime scene. And your gut? Screaming maybe.