One person away.

Last week, Jennifer and I ate at a tiny sushi restaurant here in Sonoma County. It’s tucked behind another restaurant, and you have to know where the hidden door is to get in. Basically, a sushi speakeasy that seats eight guests at a time. They serve a traditional "omakase" menu, where the chef chooses the best products of the day and serves them one piece at a time.

The food blew us away, to say the least. So naturally, we became curious about the chef, and we struck up a conversation with him.

He told us he’s from Venezuela, and we talked about how he became a chef. His story about growing up in Venezuela wasn’t easy. But around age 12, he ate a California roll for the first time.

"My friends thought it was gross," he told me. "But to me it was the most interesting thing I'd ever tasted. I'd never had anything like it."

Something clicked for him, and he fell in love with sushi.

He eventually moved to Los Angeles with a dream of working at a sushi restaurant in the United States. He walked into 15 different places looking for work, dropping his resume and asking if they needed some help. And fourteen of them never got back to him.

But he connected with one chef, and that chef saw something worth betting on. So he offered him a chance to start at the bottom. Over the next few years, he learned everything he could and worked his way up to apprenticing under that chef for years.

Fast forward to today, and this guy who grew up in Venezuela runs his own kitchen, serving some of the best sushi we’ve ever had.

As Jennifer and I walked home, we wondered about how different his life could have been if he hadn't eaten that California roll. Or what he'd be doing now if he hadn't met his mentor at that restaurant in Los Angeles.

That one person who made a world of difference.

The distance between here and there

The sushi chef didn't find his mentor by having the perfect resume or knowing the right people. He walked into 15 restaurants in a city he barely knew (probably nervous as could be), and he was ignored.

But he kept showing up, and eventually someone saw something in him worth betting on. And that's how these things tend to work, if you ask me.

You can't manufacture the moment someone decides to take a chance on you. You can't engineer it or “deserve” your way into it. All you can do is keep putting yourself in the rooms and the situations where it might happen.

I'm not a "woo-woo" kind of guy, and I don't believe in fate. But I do believe the distance between the person you are now and the person you want to be might just be one conversation away, with one person who sees something in you before you even see it in yourself.

I believe this because it happened to me too.

My person

Until age 28, I was, by all accounts, a very poor employee.

I spent my early career bouncing around small towns, trying to find footing at jobs I pretty much hated.

In seven years, I lived in four tiny Midwest towns. From town to town I went, underperforming and getting fired. And if you'd asked anyone who knew me during those years whether I'd eventually become a Chief Revenue Officer (or entrepreneur), they would have laughed in your face.

Then I met Cyrus Massoumi, the founder of Zocdoc. In late November of 2009, I took a bus from Allentown, Pennsylvania, to New York City for an interview with him for a sales job.

Cyrus hired me as a door-to-door salesman and tossed me into a Staten Island territory. I’d have to take the ferry back and forth every day, and I wouldn’t have a car on the island. Walking was what I’d have to do. And he told me to go make four sales a week.

Despite the obvious challenges, I loved it. And for the first time in my life, I was actually good at something.

Four months later, I was promoted with a $30,000 raise I hadn’t asked for. And not long after that, it was time to launch a new team in San Francisco. Cyrus picked me to lead the charge. Next was Boston, and he picked me again. When it was time to assign a manager to the entire West Coast, I got that job too.

Cyrus picked me for so many things. And with his confidence, I kept rising to meet the challenges. He was the guy who gave me a shot. And I pinpoint that as the most critical moment that shaped my career, and ultimately the business and life I’ve been able to build with Jennifer.

Cyrus was my LA sushi chef.

The bottom line

Somewhere in Sonoma County, there's a chef running an amazing eight-seat sushi bar because someone in Los Angeles saw something in a kid from Venezuela who probably had no business getting that shot.

And somewhere in New York, there's a guy who went from getting fired all over the Midwest to building his own business, because somebody took a chance on him.

You can't force moments like these. And you can't optimize your way into them.

But you can put yourself in rooms where they're possible. You can say yes to opportunities you're not quite ready for. And you can strike up conversations with people who are doing things you want to do.

Because someone might see something in you before you see it in yourself.

You probably won't recognize these moments when they're happening. That dishwasher job at a sushi restaurant in LA probably didn’t feel pivotal. And applying to a small startup in NYC was just another job interview for me.

You can’t know what ordinary experience might introduce you to the person who redirects your whole trajectory.

But you can keep showing as the best version of yourself in ordinary situations. And more importantly, you can challenge yourself to explore opportunities beyond your current routine.

So here's my question for you this week:

How can you push beyond your comfort zone? What’s something you could try that might unlock more opportunities for you to get from Point A (today) to Point B (where you want to be)?

Reply and tell me. While I can't reply to everyone, Jennifer and I read every response, and we love hearing from you.

That's all for this week.

See you next Saturday.