Prior to passing it on at the coffee shop, Hoffman was a business manager with Christian Family Services in Denver, where she helped birth parents through the adoption process; before that she worked with an inventor in California for nearly ten years while Virl built houses. "When the market went bad, we came here," she says. "Virl went to work for APS as a plumber, and that's when he heard about the job. He told me to call, and even though it didn't seem like I was truly qualified for the job, something about it just felt right."
That was nine months ago. Since then, Hoffman's expanded the coffee shop into an almost viable catering business. "Where else can you get this gourmet food turned out using nothing but a microwave, an electric wok and a Crock-Pot?" she asks. "We're supposed to get a stove one of these days." So far, the largest catering job they've pulled off was an Asian banquet for 170. "At one point, everything went all to heck," says Hoffman. "And that's when I was so proud of my crew here. They really rose to the challenge." If this were a typical restaurant, she adds, "I'd be bored out of my mind. But the shop is as glitchy as the rest of us, and we have as many laughs as we do tears."
It's another weekday afternoon, and O'Donley has a case of the giggles. As she waltzes to the singing Christmas tree, she asks Hoffman, who's just come out of the kitchen, about entertainment plans for an upcoming Friday night. The coffee shop stays open late one evening a week to provide a safe meeting place for the kids in Raskin's alternative high school program, which deals with severely emotionally disturbed youth and students who've been expelled. "These are tough kids," says Hoffman, as a motherly tone creeps into her voice. "But we try to love them unconditionally. And we've come to be their hangout on those nights. We get a band, or Virl and his buddies play."
At this moment, one of the bands is practicing on the stage, which features donated equipment and the same work-in-progress decor as the rest of the coffee shop. The singer, Anna Kim Aleris, says she's suffered from depression all her life, and she sees playing at Good Company as therapeutic for both her and the clientele. "Music is such a helpful thing," she says. "I love watching the reactions of the kids who come here as they hear us play. Some of them really respond to it."
Aleris's partner, mandolin and guitar player Bradford Robinson, became involved in the coffee shop through his mother, Kay Robinson, who runs the Aurora Public Schools' program for hearing-impaired kids. "We're putting on this play together, my mom's kids and us, here at the coffee shop next week," he explains. "Even though some of the kids can't hear at all, some of them can hear a little bit, and most can feel the vibrations. It's a spoof on Snow White, and the kids are so excited about it, you wouldn't believe it."
"This is going to be so cool," adds Aleris. "And it's perfect that we're having it here at the coffeehouse. I can't believe it's taken this long for someone to come up with a program like this."
A few tables away, an instructor from a nearby English as a Second Language class is running her students through word drills so they can order a couple of cappuccinos. Closer to the counter, McKinney and Archuleta are comparing notes about their meds, and O'Donley is grimacing at the singing Christmas tree. Hoffman stands with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene and allowing herself a moment of satisfaction before scurrying back to the half-completed conference room.
"Oh, there's one more story I have to share," she says, turning back to the coffee shop. "I'll never forget this one day, we were all working here, and this woman who'd been coming in quite a bit burst through the door and yelled, 'Finally! They have certified that I am nuts!' Of course, we knew that. She'd been talking about running off with John Elway and stuff. But she hadn't been officially diagnosed. And we were so happy for her, because now they could start treating her. We all just stood there and clapped and cheered for her.
"Now, you tell me--where else in the world could she have gone to tell someone that?
