At Douwe Egberts, I Began to See Coffee Differently
When I left FAEMA to work at Douwe Egberts, I believed I already knew the world of coffee well. For years, I had installed espresso machines. I knew the cafés. I knew their owners. I understood the importance of the right grind and a precisely adjusted machine.
But I quickly understood that I had seen only a small part of the whole. At Douwe Egberts, I discovered a completely different world. My customers were no longer only cafés. I also visited schools, hospitals, nursing homes, factories, offices, and large professional kitchens. Coffee was served everywhere in large quantities. That meant I met very different people each day. Directors. Purchasing managers. Head chefs. Nurses. Maintenance technicians. Each viewed coffee differently.
To some, it was a moment of comfort. To others, simply a product that had to be prepared and served as efficiently as possible. As always, I listened. And the more I listened, the more I understood that coffee was about more than taste. Speed mattered. Hygiene mattered. Ease of use. Simplicity of maintenance. Reliability. All of that, too, was part of quality. During my visits, something began to catch my attention and kept returning to my thoughts.
Many coffee filters - especially the plastic filter systems widely used at the time - did not always perform in the same way. In humid weather, the brewing time changed. The coffee flowed more slowly. Sometimes part of the aroma was lost. At other times, customers complained about the quality without understanding the true source of the problem. To many, it simply seemed normal.
Not to me. I kept thinking about it. Why did it have to be that way? Could it not be simpler? Could it not be better? Those questions continued turning in my mind long after my working day had ended. When I came home, I began to draw. Experiment. Imagine new possibilities. No one at Douwe Egberts had asked me to do so. I worked on it quietly in my free time because I was convinced a better solution had to be possible.
Dorina often saw me spend entire evenings absorbed in my ideas. The table was covered with sheets of paper. Sketches. Notes. New concepts. Sometimes something worked. Far more often, it did not. But every attempt - even when it failed - brought me one step closer to a possible solution. After many experiments, an idea slowly began to take shape. An idea that genuinely excited me. A paper filter already containing the exact amount of ground coffee.
Simple. Hygienic. Always precisely dosed. And above all... Able to deliver consistent quality, cup after cup. To test my idea, I even built a rudimentary prototype capable of using several of these prefilled paper filters automatically. It was far from perfect. But it worked. I had also prepared more than a hundred of those paper filters so I could put my idea to the test. I was convinced it offered possibilities.
So when I finally presented my project to Douwe Egberts, I hoped they would see the same possibilities I did. They listened. But the response was not what I had hoped for. To the company, at that time, my project did not offer enough added value. Meanwhile, the problems with the existing filter systems had largely been resolved, and they saw no reason to move in a new direction.
It also had to be considered that such a system might sit alongside other coffee solutions already offered by the company. From a business perspective, I could understand that a large company had its own priorities. But on a human level, I was disappointed. I had devoted so many evenings to that project. Not because someone paid me to do it. Not because it was part of my assignment.
But because I believed I had discovered something that could be improved. When my idea proved to have little added value for the company, it affected me more than I first wanted to admit. That disappointment contributed to my decision to leave Douwe Egberts. But there was also a very practical reason. Dorina and I were building our future. We wanted to buy our own home in Heusden- Zolder, where she could teach at the Atheneum.
For that, we needed financial security. I had the opportunity to work as a salesman at Groupe Riem. Depending on my results, I could earn three to four times as much there as at Douwe Egberts. For a young man who wanted to start a family and buy a home, that difference was enormous. My decision to leave was therefore the result of two things. The disappointment connected to an idea in which I had deeply believed.
And the responsibility to think about my family's future. I ultimately left Douwe Egberts with mixed feelings. I was grateful for everything I had learned there. But at the same time, I felt the moment had come to continue on my way. Many years later, coffee pods appeared on the market and changed the way millions of people prepared coffee at home.
Over the years, I was sometimes asked whether I felt I had missed out on recognition. My answer was always the same. No. I did not need recognition. I know what I studied. I know which ideas I developed. I honestly do not know whether others were later inspired by them or not. And today, that no longer matters to me. What matters in my eyes is far more important.
Once again, I had learned a lesson that would accompany me for the rest of my life. Dare to ask questions. Dare to experiment. And never be afraid to explore an idea - even when no one else believes in it yet. But I also learned something else. A person does not live on ideas alone. There comes a time when we must accept responsibility for our family and make choices dictated not only by passion, but also by reality.
My departure from Douwe Egberts was such a choice. One door closed. Another opened. And without my knowing it then, that next step brought me still closer to the entrepreneur who was slowly growing within me. Not every idea changes the world.
But every idea we pursue with conviction teaches us something about ourselves. And perhaps that was the greatest gift my years at Douwe Egberts gave me.