Feeding Hope

Chapter 5Building Without a Blueprint

The First Pickup

The text came in just after lunch on a Friday afternoon. “Pickup ready.”

I remember staring at the message for a few seconds before it sank in—this was it. After months of hackathons, late‐night research sessions, and talking to anyone who would listen about an idea called Goodr, today it would finally exist in real life. My hands were shaking as I grabbed my keys and headed for the car.

Chef Ryan and I had planned everything. I'd dropped off packaging supplies the day before—labels, aluminum pans, disposable gloves, and the simple instructions I'd typed up so the kitchen staff would know exactly what to do. I had already called the Atlanta Mission, a shelter less than a mile away that served more than 400 men each day, to confirm they could accept the food. Everything was in place. Still, as I started the engine of my used Hyundai Sonata, I whispered a prayer under my breath: let this work.

When I pulled into the loading area at Turner Broadcasting Systems (TBS), the afternoon sun bounced off the glass windows of the campus. Employees in ID badges and tailored suits streamed past me, their laughter carrying the ease of steady paychecks and catered lunches. I parked, straightened my shirt, and walked toward the kitchen dock, my heart pounding hard enough to feel it in my throat.

Chef Ryan greeted me with a grin. “You ready for this?” he asked.

“I've been ready for months,” I laughed, though the sound came out nervous.