Over a decade ago, I saw a YouTube video that changed how I viewed the concept of craft. It gave me a glimpse into what good could look like—and how you could do it your way.
Considering I’m in the tech industry, it’s probably not what you’d expect. But if you know me—how I draw inspiration from unorthodox and seemingly unrelated places—you might not be surprised.
This video had nothing to do with apps or algorithms.
It was about soda.
Soda Pop
About 15 years ago, the food site Chowhound produced a 12-minute interview with a shop owner named John Nese.
He ran a local Los Angeles store called Galco’s Old World Grocery, also known as the Soda Pop Stop.
You can watch it here:
The video was about soda. But it was also about joy. Obsession. Precision.
It was about what happens when someone says:
“This matters. Even if the world forgot. I didn’t.”
Joy
You could feel John’s joy—for the soda, for the stories, for sharing it with others.
From his childhood story about wanting carbonated water fountains, to the moment he breaks the fourth wall to hand a glass bottle to someone off-camera, just so they could feel what it was like “back in the day.”
“People say… Well you’re here and you’re working all the time. I’m saying… I don’t work. I just play all day long. I come in and play” (John said with a smile)
That line hit me hard.
This is what passion looks like. This is what passion feels like—for them, and for everyone watching. I remember seeing craft and hobbies in a whole new light after that interview. (And soda, too.)
At the time, I was still early in my career as a designer and developer. I knew I had passion. But did I have that kind of passion? Did I enjoy the minutiae of building digital things the way John enjoyed stocking shelves? Was I playing all day long? And if not… could I? Did I want to?
I started asking myself these kinds of questions.
Also... It doesn’t mean quit your job. It means find the joy you forgot you were allowed to have.
And I knew then:
My career journey wouldn’t just be about getting better at the work—it’d be about discovering the joy in it.
The kind of joy that glows, that spills over, that invites others in.
Knowledge
Calling John’s soda knowledge “impressive” doesn’t even scratch the surface. He drops facts, tidbits, and history like he’s been bottling them for decades.
But there’s something more important than just expertise. There’s texture. There’s humanity.
“Another independent bottler. They’ve been bottling since 1926. The mother, the daughter, the two brothers. Bottle.”
He does this kind of thing throughout the interview. Not just describing flavours—but telling stories. Not just naming brands—but naming the people behind them.
All delivered casually. Smooth (like a cream-finished soda!).
And here’s the other thing: He shows restraint.
You get the sense he could talk for hours—days—about the history of root beer. But he doesn’t overwhelm you. He gives you just enough to walk beside him. You lead the way. He guides you.
“What would you like?” (he asks).
Early in my career, I didn’t have that restraint. I couldn’t wait to share—or let’s be honest, boast—about what I knew.
“Look how much I know. Look how smart I am.” (Ugh. Apologies to the folks who had to deal with me, haha.)
It wasn’t about solving the thing anymore. It was about proving I belonged. Imposter syndrome wearing a lab coat. And I never felt good after those moments.
So over the years, something I’ve tried to practice is what John modeled so naturally:
Share knowledge without ego. Invite, don’t impress. Walk beside.
Taste
John, undeniably, has taste.
Not just for soda—but for everything that surrounds it. You can see it in how he runs his business. In how he considers recycling fees, how he supports independent bottlers, how he chooses what to stock and what to skip.
His taste is discernment. What’s good, what’s not. What’s worth sharing. What’s worth protecting. And that applies far beyond soda.
Over the years, I’ve learned how essential taste is to craft.
Taste is your internal compass. Forged through reps, reflection, experience.
It shows up in how you name what’s working. In how you plan 10 or 20 steps ahead to create clarity for others. In how you architect something resilient—without over-engineering it. In how you know when to add more, and when to walk away.
Taste isn’t just what you know. It’s how you apply it—with intention, judgment, and care.
And John? His taste flows through everything he does.
Bubbles
I’ve never forgotten that video.
Not because it was flashy. Not because it was trending. But because it felt real.
It made me reflect. It made me curious. It made me better.
Every now and then, I think about John when I’m sharing an idea or explaining a system to someone new.
Not because I want to sell soda. But because I want to build something that makes people feel the way his shop made me feel:
Welcomed. Inspired. Open to trying things. And quietly reminded… that joy is part of the craft, too.
P.S. After seeing this video. We tried Fentimans Curiosity Cola. Wow. It’s different alright! Every time I see that 4-pack of Fentimans at the grocery store, I think of John.