In high school, I was a loser.
I hated studying, my grades sucked, and to top it off, my first girlfriend had just dumped me. Feeling hopeless, I wanted to drop out of school. My parents didn’t know what to do, so as a last-ditch gamble, they sent me on a flight to Beijing. They hoped travelling alone would fix me. And it kind of did.
One morning, while strolling through a hutong (Chinese alley), I stumbled upon an old, dimly lit coffee shop stuffed with books and little trinkets. The place smelled like toasted nuts, and had a quietness that made time slow to a crawl. Nothing disturbed the peace except the odd fly that would enter the room, tapping against the windows.
In this tiny pocket of the universe, everyone was doing their own thing, living their own lives, yet there was an invisible thread that tied all of us together - the teenage lovebirds reading a book, the old man talking to his dog, and me, 16 years old, feeling for the first time like I belonged.
Watching how others went about life at their own pace made me think that maybe it wasn’t too late for me either. Inspired by my environment, I began brimming with hope.
From that day on, exploring cafés became my new motivation to study. The thought of studying at different cafes got me excited each morning, and I studied hard at every cafe I could find. Days blurred into nights, weekends into holidays. And before I knew it, I had studied my ass all the way to Harvard.
After graduating, I took on a six-figure role in finance before realising how much I hated it. So I quit my job, packed my bags, and spent the next year travelling across 50 countries, sleeping in rental cars and showering at gyms.
To feed myself, I tutored English online for $25 an hour. With only one student, I taught like my life depended on it, because I figured I’d die in bum fuck nowhere if he cancelled. Thanks to my desperation, the kid got into Oxford. As word of that spread, one student became 50, and 50 became 500. At 22 years old, I started my first company, and within a year we had become one of the largest education providers in the country.
I made a bunch of money and on the surface life was great. I bought fancy clothes, ate expensive food, and drove flashy supercars. But deep down, this wasn’t what I wanted. I never wanted tutoring to become this full-time thing, let alone a giant business. I began feeling lost and unmotivated like I was in high school again.
All this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about that little coffee shop in Beijing. It kept tugging at me until one day I decided to turn one of my classrooms into a mini-cafe. I called it the Study Bar, and my students went crazy over it. Before long, it had become this trendy after-school hangout for kids all over the city. And it was motivating them to study in the same way that little coffee shop had once motivated me.
For the first time in years, I caught a glimpse of that magic again - the same invisible thread weaving through the room. It was beautiful. I knew it was time to part ways with tutoring. Because what I really wanted was to build my own cafes - cafes that would give everyone a daily dose of magic, and help them find their people and purpose.
To fund this vision, I sold everything I owned.
The first O3 opened its doors in Auckland, New Zealand, only half-built. We ran out of money before we could finish the other half. On opening day, we sold just 7 cups of coffee. But things worked out anyway.
I believe great environments are magical because they give you hope. They motivate you to work harder, dream bigger, and feel as though anything is possible. They remind you, every day, that the world is your Oyster, and it’s a much bigger and more beautiful Oyster when experienced together.
My story is about the magic of motivation,
and O3 is about giving everyone a daily dose of that magic.
Luca
In high school,
I was a loser.
My story is about the magic of motivation, and O3
is about giving everyone a daily dose of that magic.
I hated studying, my grades sucked, and to top it off, my first girlfriend had just dumped me. Feeling hopeless, I wanted to drop out of school. My parents didn’t know what to do, so as a last-ditch gamble, they sent me on a flight to Beijing. They hoped travelling alone would fix me. And it kind of did.
One morning, while strolling through a hutong (Chinese alley), I stumbled upon an old, dimly lit coffee shop stuffed with books and little trinkets. The place smelled like toasted nuts, and had a quietness that made time slow to a crawl. Nothing disturbed the peace except the odd fly that would enter the room, tapping against the windows.
In this tiny pocket of the universe, everyone was doing their own thing, living their own lives, yet there was an invisible thread that tied all of us together - the teenage lovebirds reading a book, the old man talking to his dog, and me, 16 years old, feeling for the first time like I belonged.
Watching how others went about life at their own pace made me think that maybe it wasn’t too late for me either. Inspired by my environment, I began brimming with hope.
From that day on, exploring cafés became my new motivation to study. The thought of studying at different cafes got me excited each morning, and I studied hard at every cafe I could find. Days blurred into nights, weekends into holidays. And before I knew it, I had studied my ass all the way to Harvard.
After graduating, I took on a six-figure role in finance before realising how much I hated it. So I quit my job, packed my bags, and spent the next year travelling across 50 countries, sleeping in rental cars and showering at gyms.
To feed myself, I tutored English online for $25 an hour. With only one student, I taught like my life depended on it, because I figured I’d die in bum fuck nowhere if he cancelled. Thanks to my desperation, the kid got into Oxford. As word of that spread, one student became 50, and 50 became 500. At 22 years old, I started my first company, and within a year we had become one of the largest education providers in the country.
I made a bunch of money and on the surface life was great. I bought fancy clothes, ate expensive food, and drove flashy supercars. But deep down, this wasn’t what I wanted. I never wanted tutoring to become this full-time thing, let alone a giant business. I began feeling lost and unmotivated like I was in high school again.
All this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about that little coffee shop in Beijing. It kept tugging at me until one day I decided to turn one of my classrooms into a mini-cafe. I called it the Study Bar, and my students went crazy over it. Before long, it had become this trendy after-school hangout for kids all over the city. And it was motivating them to study in the same way that little coffee shop had once motivated me.
For the first time in years, I caught a glimpse of that magic again - the same invisible thread weaving through the room. It was beautiful. I knew it was time to part ways with tutoring. Because what I really wanted was to build my own cafes - cafes that would give everyone a daily dose of magic, and help them find their people and purpose.
To fund this vision, I sold everything I owned.
The first O3 opened its doors in Auckland, New Zealand, only half-built. We ran out of money before we could finish the other half. On opening day, we sold just 7 cups of coffee. But things worked out anyway.
I believe great environments are magical because they give you hope. They motivate you to work harder, dream bigger, and feel as though anything is possible. They remind you, every day, that the world is your Oyster, and it’s a much bigger and more beautiful Oyster when experienced together.
Luca
