Today is Compass Coffee’s 10th birthday.
To most people, Compass is a perpetually buzzing, quickly growing chain of cafes in Washington, DC. But as Compass’s “Global Ambassador,” a title earned through years of cheerful, unpaid labor, I’ve been fortunate enough to get swept up in an entrepreneurial whirlwind that has been nothing short of extraordinary.
The Compass story doesn’t unfold for me in a neat, chronological order. Instead, it comes in a dizzying flood of memories, each one a testament to the chaos of helping close friends build something from the ground up. One moment, I’m in a tiny basement kitchen, being the guinea pig for the founders’ first-ever latte, made with beans produced by their small, sample roasting machine. The next, I’m holding a ladder at 2 AM while we fix the front door lock of a new cafe.
There’s no rhyme or reason to how I found myself doing what needed to be done. Armed with a titleless business card, I became a chameleon, morphing into whatever Compass needed at any given moment. IT guy troubleshooting internet installation? Check. Impromptu CFO to negotiate a lease? You bet. Fill-in baker producing countless, fluffy biscuits? Somehow, also yes.
The lines between my life and Compass blurred. I’d wake up in a daze, realizing that once again I’d been “Tom Sawyer-ed” into yet another Compass adventure.1 One day we’d be in New York, meeting (and usually rejecting) potential investors. The next we’d be in the Nevada desert, getting a multi-day certification in coffee chemistry. We spent the next year working on the empirical data problem of designing a consistent roast profile that tasted the same in the winter as it did in DC’s humid summer.
Most mornings, I’d commute across town to the Shaw cafe, making it my makeshift office before heading home to my “real” job. If I was lucky, I’d get a chance to take orders for an hour. Even my two-year-old son got in on the act, offering customers “normal” or “spicy” water—which, to this day, is how the Lowin and Haft households refer to sparkling water.
But it wasn’t just about the tasks or the roles. It was about being part of something bigger, something growing and evolving at breakneck speed. I felt a surge of pride with each new cafe opening; today there are 20. I watched as Compass products appeared on Whole Foods shelves, launching a wholesale business that today includes many of DC’s most popular restaurants. I remember Michael’s late-night musings about the possibility of opening a drive-thru, tempered by his fears that it would dilute the personal touch that made Compass special.2
Because what truly sets Compass apart isn’t just the quality of its coffee—it’s the quality of its connections. Michael always emphasized that a barista’s true mission wasn’t to serve coffee, but to create regulars. This philosophy—elevating a transaction into a relationship—is the cornerstone of every great business, whether you’re brewing lattes or building software.3
The journey wasn’t always smooth. When the pandemic hit, I felt the weight of every word in Michael’s memo about what it would take for the company to survive. With every cafe forcibly closed, Operation Phoenix was launched by a small, dedicated team and a contract to manufacture hand sanitizer for the city. It’s well known that Compass was founded by two Marine officers who brought their work ethic and leadership principles to the coffee business; few times have I seen that matter more than successfuly steering the company through that period.
Through it all, Compass gave me more than just a front-row seat to entrepreneurship. It gave me a crash course in the grit, passion, and sheer will it takes to turn a dream into reality. From that first tiny sample roaster to the soaring glass conveyers of the 50,000-square foot Ivy City roastery, I’ve been there, sometimes helping, sometimes cheering, but always in awe of the journey.
The intersection between Compass and Prefect deepened too. At Prefect’s first conference back in 2018, we had no product to show—just 9 gallons of Compass Coffee and a banner promising “we have free coffee and you don’t even have to talk to us.” That coffee-stained banner, part of which hangs behind my desk, is a tangible reminder of how Compass’s story and mine have intertwined. In 2020, we began sending regular shipments of custom Compass tins to all of our employees, investors, and customers; nothing we’ve ever done has gotten such a positive reaction.
Perhaps the most poignant symbol of this journey is a small, brown paper bag with a handwritten label: “Lowin Blend August 2013”. It’s a relic I discovered moving a few years ago, containing the beans from that very first basement roast. Today it sits in the Compass offices as the earliest custom “tin” still in existence. It is a time capsule of dreams, friendship, and what it means to build something that lasts.
Congratulations, Michael and the entire Compass team!
Here’s to Real Good Coffee, and a latte great memories.