A follow-up to “What happened to LaserMonks?”

Bless the internet. I am constantly amazed at the things I see this wonderful network of computers do.

I got a notification that a new comment had been posted on my LaserMonks post, which you can read in full here, and lo and behold – an update of sorts! A commenter going by “faithfjord” shared a news story from a couple years ago from reporter Keith Strange with “The Mount Airy News”. Mt. Airy is a little town in North Carolina with a population of about 10,000. How “faithfjord” found this article… well, now you know why this post opened with me marveling at the power of the internet. Anyway.

The article, which you can see here, details the entrepreneurial endeavors of Vann McCoy, which the article notes he felt the call to serve, moved to Wisconsin, joined a Cistercian monastery, and went by Father Bernard. Guys. This is Father Bernard McCoy, the former CEO of LaserMonks. It’s him. He doesn’t name the company in the article but discusses his previous role both in a business and in the church. It’s him.

He explains what happened. He’s reflective and contemplative. It’s not terribly detailed. He says essentially that running the business and the monastery was a tremendous amount of work shared by too few people. They decided to close up the monastery. It was a crossroads for him and he left on a sabbatical soon after.

Wow. I had my answer. The answer to a great mystery that occupied my idle thoughts from time to time for years. People would comment on my original post and I’d be thinking about them again. (It always got a fair amount of traffic, always people led here by the same question I had. Googling “What happened to LaserMonks?”) Sometimes, the question was prompted by changing my printer ink. Or tasting the jelly I used to order from them with the cartridges. (A really delicious jam called Trappist which does a seedless raspberry that is fantastic, by the by.)

I was telling a friend about this yesterday and they asked if I was satisfied. It’s hard to tie my feelings to satisfaction. I just… I get it. I get being done. I get being in the thick of it and saying, “Enough, it’s over, I can’t do this anymore.” Is there more to the story? Maybe. But… that’s okay. I don’t need more than this.

Reading this article… I saw the pieces of the story of LaserMonks I hadn’t fully considered before. The toll something like that takes on a person. Work, even good work like the kind monks were doing in Sparta, is hard. There’s a human cost when you throw yourself into something so aggressively and fully. It’s not sustainable. You lose yourself along the way. Even if it is for good reasons.

I also feel really relieved. It’s so helpful to see someone who has walked down different paths and had his share of success… but who’s also been so willing to change course. Father – er – Mr. McCoy started out studying physics and astrophysics, shifted to other courses of study, and then became a man of the cloth. Then LaserMonks. And when he moved back to Mt. Airy after his sabbatical, he started up a business making moonshine. MOONSHINE! Is that not great?! They make whiskey and other goods, too. (You can’t take the entrepreneur out of the man, can you?)

I feel like my adult life has taken such a weird course. I didn’t go to college out of high school. I’ve had a bunch of odd jobs, a couple careers, few side ventures, lived in many places… And hey. Now I can proudly mark “some college education” when I fill out surveys. It’s just validating to see someone else with that same sort of path. Seeing someone take the time to figure out their life… and try again with a new thing. Someone who seems successful and happy.

I didn’t expect the LaserMonks story to wrap up in a way that had such a profound effect on me. But considering the subject matter, should I be surprised?

The “Mt. Airy News” article wraps up with a quote from Mr. McCoy saying he hopes he can inspire others to live well. You have, sir. At least this lady. Thanks for your openness and honesty. If I ever find myself in Mt. Airy, I’d like to buy you a drink.

Advertisements

THE FUTURE OF INNOVATION

innovationheader

I want to talk to you today about the future.

The year 2015 used to be the future. Why, just yesterday, you considered today the future. You are a time traveler. You just don’t know it yet.

But how? You say to yourself. I’m just going through my day, through the motions, though the “daily grind”. It’s because you are an innovator. You. YOU. ARE. Back to 2015, where the state of innovation is… questionable. Just any old thing can be an innovator. A college, a soda pop, bubbles in a cleaning product, your kids… Anything can be labeled as innovative.

But are we truly innovative?

impressivegraphs

In a survey of employees at brands that used the word ‘Innovation’ in their business plans or key strategy documents, over 89% of them didn’t believe they were innovative. 69% couldn’t define the word. Let that sink in. Well over half of those innovators… just weren’t innovative.

So. This is a problem. We’ve gotten to the point where the word ‘Innovation’ has lost all meaning. It used to represent something. It used to show us who the outliers were. Who was making a difference. Who was working towards new heights, truly moving forward with momentum, taking risks, and always succeeding.

What we need is a solution. A solution to a problem you weren’t even aware of before I started talking. What I propose is a new word.

overvation

Overvation. Overvation. Overvation.

What better way to directly indicate that you’re more innovative than those who are just saying the word? Overvation. You live it. You breathe it. You’re working on it everyday. Overvation. But not just the regular amount. You’re overdoing it. You’re not just going to give 100%. You’re not giving 110%. You’re going to give 200%. I had a slide for this, but it was just blank because you can’t show 200% on a pie chart. Clippy showed up and his little face just melted off. He couldn’t even comprehend overvation.

But just saying ‘no’ or ‘can’t’ isn’t in the nature of an overvator.

overvationpie

Yet again, I have solved a problem we didn’t know we even had. I overvated. With overvation.

Show everyone that you’re OVER innovation. You’ve moved on to Innovation 2.0: overvation. Work hard and show them what you can do, time traveler!

What happened to LaserMonks?

It’s curious, the life of monks. Religious observation often accompanied with a stoic silence. Leaving your life and worldly possessions behind to live simply and pray. As an outsider, I can’t help but find it all very interesting. I suppose that’s what initially drew me to LaserMonks back in the mid-2000s. To have this peculiar lifestyle collide with the internet seemed contradictory, though not expressly.

I should explain. LaserMonks was an online store where you could buy ink for your printer. It was run by the Cistercian Abbey of Our Lady of Spring Bank, in Sparta, Wisconsin. Most monasteries make food or beer to support the monks who live there and do good things for their communities. But the abbey behind LaserMonks saw a market in supplying ink to people. There’s a great amount of detail about this in the book about their operation, “LaserMonks: The Business Story 900 Years In the Making”. The book was penned by two consultants that came in to assist the monks with the fledgling business that eventually boomed online. They tell the story of their business model, guided by Saint Benedict, who was hospitable above all else, and frame the details of their success. They gave excellent customer service, supported their community, and eventually built on their e-commerce site to sell goods from other monasteries.

But after millions of dollars in revenue and ten years in the business it all suddenly stopped. The website was sold for parts and everything from the Cistercian Abbey of Our Lady of Spring Bank auctioned off, including the land the abbey sat on. In March of 2012 I got an email from them, explaining the business was under new ownership. Even the brand was given to the highest bidder.

 

What happened? I just find it shocking. One minute they’re filling out orders and taking prayer requests, the next the whole thing is shuttered. It doesn’t make sense.

The book talks so much about how they were committed not only to their customers, but the staff who worked with them. The consultants grew the business, bringing in many Monkhelpers, as they called themselves, to run the call center attached to the monks. These staff members were people within the Sparta community who needed help. Needed stable employment to support their families. The business cared about them deeply, training them to be compassionate and human. Often it is discussed in the book about the long term relationships they were building.

Their profits were doing good, too. They made many donations, supporting people who needed assistance in accordance with their mission. They were making an impact, and often they attributed their popularity to consumers that felt it was important to make a difference while they spend their money.

Granted, the book was not written by the monks. It was written by these consultants in the secular world. But even still, for people who talk so directly and emphatically about the future, investing in long term strategies, investing in PEOPLE… it just doesn’t seem to add up.

I know businesses close all the time. Just because you have the best intentions doesn’t mean you’re invincible to changing economic tides. But to have no explanation, no postmortem, no answers… It just flies in the face of everything the monks held true.

So, all we’re left with is to wonder why. Could something salacious or scandalous have happened? I dreamed up a hundred stories in my mind about how it all could have gone down. I even snooped around and emailed a journalist who wrote one of the only articles I could find talking about the demise of the monastery. In the article text, he more or less shrugs his shoulders and moves on.

I did email him about this. Told him that simply accepting “them’s the breaks” didn’t ring true to me. He didn’t reply. To be fair, I did tell him he could dismiss me as “some nosy lady from the internet”.

Maybe someday I can find out what really happened. I’m not sure if a sense of entitlement is a sin of some flavor, but I bought from LaserMonks for the right reasons. I liked these people and the idea that they wanted to help others. That you could straddle the realm of philanthropy with business and make the whole thing click. If I had to look at the whole situation, I suppose I’d have to come to the conclusion I was wrong. I just want to know how.