How often do we avoid the conversation that might give us the clarity we need?
In a recent episode of Leadership Story Talks, hosts Jerome DeRoy and Julienne Ryan spoke with Martin Koehler, founder of Over a Cup of Coffee — a deceptively simple idea built around one hour, one conversation, and no fixed agenda.
Martin’s work sits somewhere between coaching, consulting, and deep human curiosity. It is not a program. It is not a podcast. It is not therapy. Instead, it offers people the space to bring a question, a challenge, or a decision they are wrestling with and explore what is really going on underneath. Because, as Martin has discovered, the thing people arrive wanting to discuss is often not the thing they most need to talk about.
The Conversation That Started It All
Martin spent 25 years leading businesses across Europe, North America, and Australia, working in sales, marketing, operations, and P&L through periods of growth, transformation, and complexity. Then, after being fired from a long professional chapter, his life changed.
That ending gave him something unexpected: freedom.
It gave him the freedom to commit fully to his relationship, marry his husband, move to the UK, and begin having the kinds of conversations that rarely happen inside boardrooms or structured business environments.
The origin story of Over a Cup of Coffee began not with a formal business plan, but with a joiner working in Martin’s home. Because Martin had time, he began talking with him. The man had left a job in software to follow his passion and start a joinery business. After their many conversations, he asked Martin if they could sit down properly. He wanted to know whether his new business was viable.
That was the first Over a Cup of Coffee conversation: no agenda, no formal coaching framework, just curiosity, honesty, and a willingness to ask useful questions.
No Stake in the Outcome
One of the most powerful aspects of Martin’s approach is that he has no stake in the outcome. He is not a boss, partner, investor, spouse, friend, or colleague. He is not trying to sell a long-term program or promise transformation in seven steps. He is simply present for the conversation.
That distance matters. Many people find it easier to be honest with someone who is not embedded in the situation — someone who will not be personally affected by the decision, and someone who does not need the answer to go a particular way.
As Jerome observed, that lack of “skin in the game” can create a different kind of openness. It gives people space to say what they may not be able to say elsewhere: I’m not sure this business will work. I don’t know whether I should expand. I can’t get a job. I think something is wrong with my CV.
But often, Martin says, the presenting problem is not the real issue. The CV may not be the issue. The shop expansion may not be the issue. The career block may not be the issue. The real question is often buried one layer below.
Why are we actually talking?
That is where clarity begins.
The Obvious Questions We Avoid
Across these conversations, Martin has noticed a pattern: people often avoid the obvious questions. Sometimes, especially in career and business conversations, the obvious question is money. Can this actually support your life? Can you afford the risk? Does this business need to grow, or does it already work?
In one conversation, someone was considering renting a larger shop. The assumption was that growth must be the next step: bigger premises, bigger business, bigger ambition. But as Martin and the person talked it through, a different truth emerged. The existing business was small, tight, manageable, and working.
So why scale?
Sometimes the answer is not to push harder. Sometimes the answer is to recognize that what you have built already fits the life you want. In a world where people are constantly encouraged to become more visible, more successful, more impressive, and more ambitious, it can feel radical to ask whether bigger is always better.
What if enough is enough?
What if success is not expansion, but alignment?
More Than a Title
One of the recurring themes in the conversation was the way people reduce themselves through language. Julienne lifted up a phrase many of us have heard, and many of us have used: “I’m only a…”
I’m only a housewife. I’m only a service worker. I’m only a freelancer. I’m only an assistant. I’m only starting out.
That phrase carries quiet damage. It diminishes the speaker before anyone else has the chance to.
Martin shared that after leaving his corporate role, his mother asked whether he missed the titles and status that had once defined his work. His answer was clear: no. He does not feel less because he no longer carries a corporate title.
That does not mean the transition required no learning. Martin spoke candidly about his own past attitudes, the ego that can come with senior roles, and the way leadership can sometimes distort how we see ourselves and others. But he also spoke about the reward of being acknowledged not for a title, but for the person he is and the value he brings.
That distinction matters. We are not only our roles, our work, or the labels other people understand most easily.
The Act of Acknowledgment
Julienne brought another word into the conversation: acknowledgment. Not grand recognition, praise, or performance. Just acknowledgment.
Seeing the person in front of you.
That might be the person serving coffee, sweeping the floor, helping you at the airport, or wearing a name tag that gives you the chance to address them as a human being rather than a function.
Martin spoke about the simple act of using someone’s name, thanking them directly, and treating them well. These gestures may seem small, but they are not insignificant.
In leadership, acknowledgment is often discussed in the context of teams, performance, and employee engagement. But at its core, it is much simpler than that. It is the practice of noticing. People know when they are being noticed, and they also know when they are being overlooked.
The Power of “And”
One of Martin’s most useful reflections came from something he learned from his own coach: the power of the word “and.”
Not “but.” And.
Two things can be true at the same time. You can be anxious and still show up. You can be creative and commercially viable. You can no longer hold a corporate title and still have something valuable to say. You can be a housewife and a business thinker. You can have made mistakes and still be growing.
This kind of integrative thinking matters because many of us trap ourselves in false contradictions. We assume we must choose one identity, one path, one version of success, one acceptable way to be. But the word “and” creates room: room for complexity, contradiction, change, and the full human being.
For leaders, this is especially important. The ability to hold two opposing truths without rushing to simplify them is a powerful form of maturity. It allows us to listen more deeply, judge less quickly, and help others see possibilities they may have ruled out too soon.
Authenticity and Tough Love
Martin is clear that what he offers is not traditional coaching. He considered that path. He explored counseling. But ultimately, he realized that formal coaching would require him to leave out parts of himself that are central to the value he brings.
He does not want to be neutral in the conventional sense. He wants to be useful.
That may mean asking a confronting question. It may mean naming something directly. It may mean offering a piece of tough love that a more formal process might avoid. Of course, not everyone will like that. But authenticity builds trust when it is rooted in genuine care and curiosity. People can often sense when someone is being honest not to wound them, but to help them see more clearly.
In Martin’s case, the promise is not that one conversation will solve everything. The promise is that one honest conversation might reveal what is actually going on.
And sometimes that is enough to move forward.
Be Curious. Be Kind.
Toward the end of the episode, Martin offered two simple pieces of advice: be kind to each other, and be curious about each other.
They sound simple. Maybe even obvious. But in a divided world, they are not small things. Curiosity interrupts assumption. Kindness interrupts division. Together, they create the conditions for better conversations — the kind where people feel seen, heard, challenged, and respected.
That is the deeper lesson in Martin’s work. We do not always need a program, a plan, or a five-step process. Sometimes we need one hour, one honest question, and one person willing to listen closely enough to ask:
What is really going on here?
Because over a cup of coffee, something important might finally become clear.
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