We recently had the chance to connect with (Coffee Cup) Chuck Doyle 3rd and have shared our conversation below.
Hi (Coffee Cup) Chuck, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to share your story, experiences and insights with our readers. Let’s jump right in with an interesting one: What are you chasing, and what would happen if you stopped?
I’m chasing the kind of life where everything I put my name on reflects who I really am—whether that’s on a stage, under a ceiling tile with wire cutters, or setting up an event space with my wife.
For the past four years, I’ve built a speaking career that’s been about telling the truth—my truth—and hoping it lights something up in someone else. Seven years running an electrical lighting company taught me how to be precise, accountable, and steady. Now, my wife and I are building an event rental company together, which brings a whole different level of creativity and teamwork into the mix.
What ties all of it together is that I don’t do halfway. I chase excellence. I chase respect. I chase the feeling of knowing I gave it everything and that people can count on me.
If I stopped chasing that? The work might still go on, but the standard would drop. My name wouldn’t hold the same weight. My clients, my audience, and even my family would notice—not because I told them, but because the impact would fade. And honestly, I’d feel it the most.
So what I’m chasing isn’t just success in business—it’s legacy, trust, and the kind of consistency that lasts. That’s what drives me. That’s what I wake up for.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Sure—my name’s Chuck Doyle, but most people know me as Coffee Cup Chuck.
I’m a speaker, entrepreneur, and tradesman with over seven years running a commercial electrical lighting company. We specialize in everything from LED retrofits and pole light installations to complex electrical troubleshooting for commercial properties. Every job that carries my name is done with pride, precision, and professionalism—because I believe in doing things the right way, every time.
For the past four years, I’ve also been part of The Becoming The Better You organization, which is where my speaking journey was born and where it continues to thrive. That community has been instrumental in my growth—not just as a speaker, but as a man, a business owner, and a leader. They gave me space to be vulnerable, to speak with purpose, and to rise by showing up authentically. The Becoming The Better You organization isn’t just where I speak—it’s also where I’m helping change lives.
As Coffee Cup Chuck, I also show up on social media every Monday through Friday, coffee in hand, delivering a short and impactful message to anyone who might need a boost. Whether it’s educational, motivating, or just something real, I try to offer a moment of clarity before the chaos of the day kicks in. It’s become part of my rhythm and a way to serve people beyond the job site or the stage.
Most recently, my wife and I launched an event rental business together. It’s new ground, but it’s rooted in the same values—quality work, personal touch, and creating something meaningful. Building something with her, from the ground up, has been one of the most rewarding parts of this whole journey.
What makes everything I do unique is that it’s all real. No shortcuts. No fluff. Whether I’m working in the field, speaking to a crowd, recording behind the coffee cup, or helping someone bring their event to life—I show up with the same heart. That’s what Coffee Cup Chuck stands for: being consistent, being accountable, and being someone people can trust.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
Great question. For me, it would have to be our words.
The words we speak hold so much power. You can use them to build someone up—or to tear them down. You can help someone heal, or you can unknowingly push them closer to the edge. I learned that in the most unexpected way.
Back in 2017, I was working a service call in the bucket truck I operated for the electrical company I worked for at the time. The job was on a two-lane bridge in Overland Park, Kansas, near the Mission Farms apartments. Since the bridge only had two lanes, I parked half of the bucket truck up on the sidewalk to keep the road as clear as possible while still reaching the pole light I needed to work on. I set out the cones, boomed up, and got to work.
While I was in the air making repairs, I noticed someone walking toward me from the west end of the bridge. He was a block or two away, so I couldn’t tell much—just that he was headed in my direction. I remember it was cold that day—it was winter. I was wearing my seasonal Sock Monkey hat, like I always did in the Kansas cold. But true to Kansas fashion, the sun was shining bright, making it feel warmer than it actually was.
As the man got closer, I tried to finish up, thinking maybe he needed to pass by. A minute later, I looked down again—and he was just standing there. Quiet. Still. Staring out over the water, just below me on the bridge.
After a few minutes, I figured I should say something. I still had a few minutes of work left and I knew, despite the sun, it was chilly out there. So I called down, “Sorry for the delay, I’ll be done in just a moment. I know it’s a little cold out, but at least the sun is shining.”
And then, without thinking much, I followed it with something that just came to me:
“What a beautiful time it is to be alive!”
The man looked up at me with the blankest expression I’ve ever seen—just empty. Then he turned around… and slowly started walking back the way he came. I didn’t think too much of it after that. Just another workday.
Fast forward about a year later. By then, I was running my own electrical lighting company. I had my own bucket truck. I pulled into a QuikTrip gas station to fill up. I was wearing my harness, and yep—my famous Sock Monkey hat. Just another day.
While standing in line to pay for gas, I noticed a man across the counter, locking eyes with me. At first, I thought maybe he was a property manager or a facilities guy I’d worked with before. But he just kept looking at me, like he was trying to place a memory.
When he finished up his purchase, he walked straight over to me and asked, “Hey, do you work in a bucket truck?”
I said, “Yes, sir.”
Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Can I hug you?”
It caught me off guard, but something told me to say yes. And when he hugged me—it wasn’t just a hug. It was an embrace. A deep, quiet, emotional moment that said way more than words.
After what felt like 30 seconds or more, he stepped back, looked me in the eye, and said,
“Thank you for saving my life.”
He asked if I had been working on a bridge the year before, in Overland Park. And when I realized what was happening, chills ran through my entire body.
That man was the same one from the bridge. He told me that he had gone there that day with the full intention of ending his life. He was done. He was tired. He felt invisible. And he had already made his decision.
But then—some random guy in a bucket truck looked down and said, “What a beautiful time it is to be alive.”
That simple sentence made him pause. It echoed in his mind. And for reasons he couldn’t explain at the time, it gave him just enough hope to walk away from that ledge. He went home that day and started to rebuild his life.
And I learned something I will never forget.
Words are like electricity.
They can power up a space—or shock someone into shutting down.
They can light a path—or leave someone in the dark.
Just like in my line of work, how I handle power matters—how I handle words matters just as much.
That’s why I show up every weekday as Coffee Cup Chuck. Coffee in hand, sharing short messages that are real, raw, and honest—because somebody, somewhere, might be standing on a mental bridge. And they might just need a reason to come back.
At the end of the day, if I’ve learned anything—it’s this:
Your words might be free to give, but they can be priceless to someone who hears them. So use them wisely. Speak life. You never know who’s listening—or what bridge they’re standing on.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering taught me how to see people.
Not just look at them—but really see them. Their silence, their struggle, the weight they’re carrying behind their smile. Success never slowed me down enough to notice that. But suffering did. It stripped away my pride, my assumptions, and everything I thought I knew about control. It forced me to sit in the discomfort and ask myself some hard questions—about who I was, what I stood for, and who I was becoming when no one was watching.
See, success will make you think you’ve arrived. Suffering reminds you you’re still human.
It taught me patience. It taught me empathy. It taught me how to speak to people’s pain because I had to first learn how to sit with my own. That lesson? You can’t learn it on a stage. You learn it in the quiet. In the dark. When everything you built feels like it’s falling apart and the only thing left standing is your character.
That’s what made Coffee Cup Chuck even possible. I don’t show up every morning with coffee and a message because I’ve figured it all out—I show up because I’ve been in the dark and I know how much one small light can matter.
Suffering taught me to lead from a deeper place.
It gave my voice purpose.
And it gave my success meaning.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
One of the biggest truths for me is that showing up matters more than being seen.
It’s easy to chase attention, applause, recognition—but the real value is in the quiet consistency. The early mornings, the late nights, the jobs no one claps for, the moments when you’re tired but still go the extra mile. That’s where character is built. And I don’t always say that out loud, but I live it.
Another truth is that people remember how you made them feel more than what you did. Whether it’s a client, a stranger at the gas station, someone scrolling past my Coffee Cup message, or a guy standing on a bridge—I believe every interaction is a chance to leave someone better than I found them. That’s not something I talk about all the time, but it drives almost everything I do.
And lastly, my word is everything. I don’t overpromise. I don’t need to. If I say I’m going to do something, it’s getting done. Period. Whether that’s on a job site, with my wife, my team, or just in how I show up to the world—my name carries weight with me, and I protect that.
Those are the truths I rarely speak—but I try to live them loud.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope people say, “He showed up.”
Not just physically—but with his whole heart. That I was the kind of man who made people feel seen, heard, and valued. That I never let my past define me, but instead used it to light a path for others trying to find their way out of the dark.
I hope they say I didn’t just talk about being better—I became better, and I helped others do the same. That I wasn’t afraid to be real, to share the hard parts, to admit when I was broken—but that I never stayed there. I stood back up. Again and again.
I hope they say I loved my wife deeply, honored my word, worked with integrity, and left every place—every job, every room, every person—a little better than I found it.
And most of all, I hope they say I made people believe they could heal, grow, and become the better version of themselves—because that’s exactly what the Becoming The Better You community did for me.
I just want my life to tell the truth—that redemption is real, and that no matter where you start, you can finish strong.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.coffeecupchuck.com
- Instagram: @speakercoffeecupchuck
- Linkedin: @ChesterDoyle
- Facebook: @CoffeeCupChuck
- Youtube: @CoffeeCupChuck
Image Credits
Corrine Doyle
Abigail Unfred
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