We’ve all had those moments on a daily walk where something catches your eye—a stray leaf, a glint in the pavement, or, in my case this week down at the San Diego sportfishing docks, a single, solitary Crocs shoe sitting right in my path, just begging to be noticed. It stopped me in my tracks and took my mind right back to a moment years ago when a strange, funky-looking shoe changed the trajectory of my life.
Entrepreneurship is not a straight line. It is a series of brutal hits balanced by unexpected, beautiful redemptive arcs.
The Weight of a Recall
Not long before that shoe entered my world, I was living through one of the lowest points of my career. My company, New Organics, had hit a massive wall. We had products—organic graham crackers and animal crackers for kids—distributed across every single Kroger store in the country.
Then came the breakdown: our organic canola oil didn’t have the proper stabilization when it was pumped out of a 55-gallon drum at the packing facility. The result? Foul-tasting children’s crackers on shelves nationwide.
Even though the issue impacted a limited set of SKUs, we pulled every single SKU back in a massive voluntary recall. The operational toll was staggering. I felt totally defeated, carrying the heavy weight of failure.
An Olive Branch from a Mensch
In the middle of that wreckage, my dear friend Mark Retzloff—co-founder of Horizon Organic Milk—reached out. Mark is a true mensch. Knowing the beating I had taken, he called to offer an olive branch and asked if I’d come work with him at Horizon.
While visiting Mark’s office in Boulder to talk shop, my eyes drifted over to his bookcase. Sitting there was a strange, foam-like clog I had never seen before.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s a shoe,” Mark said. “Some guys have the resin for it and want us to invest so they can build a manufacturing plant. Are you interested?”
For some inexplicable reason, I felt drawn to it. “Do you have the other one?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you mind if I take them running tomorrow morning to test them out?”
“No, go ahead.”
I took that strange pair for a run the next morning. That afternoon, I went home to my wife, looked her in the eyes, and said, “We’re putting a stake into this shoe company called Crocs.” I didn’t have a picture of it. I didn’t have a product sample. I just had a hunch and a willingness to leap. And she trusted me.
The Turning Point
Six or seven months later, Crocs went public.
Just like that, the agonizing pain, the operational scars, and the exhaustion of the New Organics recall were lifted. It wasn’t just about a business win; it was a reminder that when one door slams shut in business, an absurd, unexpected window can swing wide open—sometimes shaped like a foam clog.
To Mark Retzloff, and to all the entrepreneurial friends who extend a hand when you’re flat on your back: thank you. True resilience isn’t about avoiding the hits. It’s about staying open to the next adventure, even if it starts with a stray shoe on a dock.