After asking John the Burning Question, he requests a quick moment to properly gather his answer.

He repeats it quietly under his breath.

Silence.

"Gosh... I don't think I know who Jon Stewart is."

More silence.

"Okay, I suppose I'm ready.

...President Obama."

Okay. Why?

"You didn't say you were gonna ask me that."

He laughs.

"I'm not on the record any more, am I?"
Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Chocolate

THE FIRST TIME JOHN SAMPLE AND I MEET is roughly 6 seconds after I knock upon the front door of his lakeside home. The wiry owner of Chocolate #9 answers, bristling with energy, “Hey! Chad, right? Where’s your car parked? Oh, there. C’mon, let’s move it.” He rushes past, and by the time I turn around, he’s already ten steps up the same pathway I just walked down. My initial thought is, “Man, whatever this guy’s on, I want some.” Turns out he’s just ‘on’ the oldest performance-enhancer in the world: A really healthy diet, coupled with proper exercise.

At 61 years of age, John’s certainly had his fair share of time to refine his diet and lifestyle. “I go up to the high school track almost every single day,” he claims, moments before taking a long pull of coconut water from a carton sitting on his dining room table. “Sometimes, there’ll be students out on the track. I can literally run circles around most of them.”

John began building the foundation of his healthy lifestyle back in 1972, when he was released from the military with “a disease that no one could name.” Curious to understand his mysterious disease, John devoured any information he could find about naturopathy and nutrition. What he discovered was that “food is the world’s best medicine.” Upon hearing this, I offer that perhaps he’s speaking in overly general terms. Perhaps the “best medicine” depends upon the specific ailment. John’s not having it. “No. Point blank, food is the best medicine."

Nutrition is a subject very near and dear to John and he’s not afraid to juggle it like a hot potato. In fact, with minimal prompting, he picks up perhaps the hottest potato of them all, the USA’s health care system, “As a nation, we’re spending massive amounts of money on health care. People are eating tons of crap and demanding tons of resources. If I could get a million kids hooked on Chocolate #9 instead of candy bars, it'd have a massively positive effect on society as a whole. ” When I mention the obvious business benefits from his proposal, John concludes with a wry smile, “Well, yeah. I suppose you could call that a bonus.”
As a food product, Chocolate #9 is very simple. It has only two ingredients, Belgian dark chocolate and agave nectar. It’s the latter ingredient, the agave, which gives true weight to John’s claim. In contrast to the sugar-based energy gels of his competitors, Chocolate #9 registers very low on the glycemic index. The benefit of this is a slower absorption rate by the blood stream, allowing for steady, sustainable energy.

To further understand these benefits, I called a friend of mine who’s both an athlete and a diabetic. I ask him if he’s heard of Chocolate #9. “Yeah, of course.” He responds, “I’m diabetic.” His answer prompts the question, “Why is that significant?” He begins, “Well, the guys at Chocolate #9 always seem to have a booth at the local diabetes expo. Plus the stuff is sinfully good.” I ask why he uses Chocolate #9 instead of other low-glycemic energy foods. He replies, “Honestly, there’s not much else out there. At least not foods that’re easy to eat while I’m exercising. And, like I said, it’s sinfully good. You’ve gotta love chocolate.”

During the course of our interview, John’s home phone rings constantly. Though Chocolate #9 has a fine web presence, every ad urges customers to place their orders by phone. “It’s at the very top of the web site.” He says, “First thing you see, ‘Call us at 1-866-999-1909.’ It’s my old school rule number one: ‘Use the phone.’”

Curious about the brand name, I ask where the ‘#9’ came from. John replies, “I suppose I’m just a child of the 60’s.” I sit there, staring at him, obviously missing the connection. “Y’know, Love Potion #9, Revolution 9…” I interrupt, “Revolution what?” He lets my question linger for a few awkward moments, before replying, “Oh… just google the Beatles.” I write it down. “Plus,” He continues, “I wanted the simplest logo in the business. Before I began, that was three characters. With ‘#9’ I got two.”
As a businessman, John did not begin with Chocolate #9. Novice entrepreneurs would literally have a difficult time cutting their teeth on chocolate energy gel. John’s first foray into the business world was in 1981, when he opened one of downtown Seattle’s first computer shops, Seattle Micro. “We sold all kinds of computer stuff and for fifteen years, we just KILLED it.” John is clearly proud of these past accomplishments. He continues, “We put every single computer shop in downtown Seattle out of business.” Around the same time that John’s computer shop was “KILLING it,” he began to dabble in manufacturing. These efforts led to the eventual creation of a computer clock unique enough that Zenith signed them into an exclusive contract. “That clock put the top two floors on this house.” He gestures around us, and as I take a better look around, I notice some unusual art, in the shape of an unfolded box. John follows my gaze, remarking, “Yup. That’s the box it came in.”  The box is framed and mounted on his dining room wall. Structurally, it’s the wall that holds the entire house together. Whether he intended it or not, I get the joke.

Curious how he went from computer clocks to chocolate energy gel, I ask about the Zenith contract. “Why only two stories on the house?”

“Well, I lost my contact in Asia, where the clock was being manufactured, and honestly, the retail shop was, again, just KILLING it. So, with the lost of my contact, I dropped the clock altogether and pointed all my resources towards the computer store.” For the second time in as many minutes he reminds me that for fifteen years he put every single competitor out of business.

Regardless, I’m still confused as to how he went from computers to chocolate energy gel. “I suppose I just saw the industry changing and decided to get out.” He makes this pivotal change sound easy. As if he just woke up one day, opened the morning newspaper and read a headline saying, “Steve Jobs will own it all. Get out now.”
After his departure from the computer industry, John started a dotcom selling ‘widgets.’ Apparently, his dotcom detoured from the Seattle standard and avoided the bursting bubble. “It was actually quite successful.” He takes a brief pause, as if for dramatic effect, before concluding, “I suppose you could say, we KILLED it.” But selling widgets online can be a tricky long-term business plan. John explains, “If you sell a non-unique widget online, you’ll often end up in a bidding war for the highest click-through price.” In laymen’s terms, it works like this: You’re the dotcom that sells the widget. Your competitor also sells the widget. You both want the highest search engine listing for the widget, so you bid against each other. After you win the bidding war and the customer comes to your dotcom first, you try to close the sale by underselling your competitor. So, while the price slowly drops, your advertising cost slowly rises, and soon your margin is devoured… like a tasty packet of chocolate energy gel.

“So, I think I got it.” I remark. I stop writing and set my pen and pad upon the table for the first time in our conversation. “You’re a health nut,” I begin, “who’s dedicated his life to diet and nutrition.”

“I like to think so.” He responds, efficiently inserting his words between my sentences.

“In business, you garnered manufacturing experience with the computer clock. Then you had the retail experience with the shop and the dotcom.”

“Where we KILLED it.” He reminds me, straight-faced.

“Now, you’re combining all of those experiences and knowledge through Chocolate #9. You’re the only person who makes it. So, there’s no bidding or price war and you sell it through your website and retail accounts.”

“Exactly.” Finishes John with a satisfied smile, “Plus, I’m saving the world, one chocolate energy packet at a time.”