It was 4:30pm on a hot summer day in West Hollywood when I made my last rounds of door knocking on the street I was assigned to. I remember feeling somewhat defeated that day because 15 minutes prior, I set off an alarm at Chase bank trying to go out the back door. I questioned if this job was worth learning the art of sales or if I should go back to a regular 9 to 5 job that had me handcuffed to my desk. At least I get a good workout in each day, I said to myself as I walked to the next building, cars whooshing past me on Sunset Blvd. I glanced at my phone; okay, 30 more minutes until i ended my day. I'll make the most out of this next building. Turns out, getting into a building you're not allowed to get into is a lot harder than you'd imagine. Luckily a couple people were just walking in, they held the door for me as I briskly walked in and noticed a staircase. I'll start on the 2nd floor and work my way down I told myself as I went up and made my rounds. No luck selling up here. Defeated, I walked through the corridor about to head out the main door entrance when a man with a small dog with a mohawk walked out of their office. Shit, I said to myself. We locked eyes for sure, now I need to pitch him. I smiled, took a breath and sold. Surprisingly, he was interested in what I had to offer and invited me back into his office to have a seat. I asked about his dog and when he handed me his credit card, I noticed the last name was Mansourian. That's interesting, I recognize the "ian" in last names all too well, from my 3 years spent in Armenia. "Are you Armenian?", Surprised, he asked me how I knew and I told him about my Peace Corps experience in Armenia not too long ago. Then I spoke a few sentences in Armenian which blew his pants off and he animatedly shot me back questions about my experience overseas. Vache then asked me if I ever tried Raffi's in Glendale, in which I haven't.... The rest is history and now we are here :)