From Platform Shoes to the White House: Basil Bernard’s Journey of Grit and Grace

A Pastry, a Platform Shoe, and a Leap of Faith

Before Basil Bernard ever made a sale or shook a president’s hand, he learned something quieter and perhaps just as vital. During a weary season, his mother paused with him over a simple pastry and said, “Let’s just sit here and enjoy this.” It was a moment of calm in the midst of uncertainty. A quiet lesson in presence.

The path from Jamaica to the White House doesn’t usually go through a fax machine. But for Basil Bernard, it did.

He grew up in a peaceful, music-filled Jamaica of the 1970s, where Motown and rock played side by side, and dreams weren’t fenced in by skin tone or circumstance. Basil’s first sale? Flipping his own platform shoes for a profit in high school. “I didn’t get into a business at the time,” he recalls, “but I knew I liked the rush of making a sale.”

Later, it would take a random drop-in on a high school commerce class to wake something deeper. “I could just feel myself saying, whoa, this is my calling.”

That calling stayed with him when he moved to New York with his wife Marlene, where he worked at New York Telephone and they welcomed their first child. Life was busy… and New York winters were frigid.

They had $10,000 saved. Just enough for a house down payment… or to start a business. They chose the latter.

When Basil floated the idea of moving to Florida, Marlene didn’t hesitate. Her response? Just one word: “When.”

It was in South Florida that they launched their first venture, selling office supplies.

Trust is the foundation of business. Not product. Not pitch. Trust.

Their first attempt selling office supplies nearly derailed when a new competitor named Office Depot opened a store right down the street. But Basil didn’t flinch. He leaned into what he knew: people, service, hustle. They added delivery. Made ordering easier. Made themselves indispensable.

It worked. Apricot Office Interiors, (then just a tiny supply company) grew so fast, it was named the top small business in the country. Yes, the entire country. The White House called. President Bush shook his hand.

But then came 2008.

The Great Recession nearly erased everything. “We lost 60% of our volume in no time,” Basil says. A trusted bank froze their credit. Their lease became a weight. The business could’ve folded.

Instead of panicking, Basil chose something rare in moments like that: humility and strategic sacrifice. He sold off the supply side of the business to save jobs. He doubled down on office furniture. He asked for help and listened. That pivot is what kept Apricot alive and thriving today.

His biggest lesson? “Trust is the foundation of business,” he says. “Not product. Not pitch. Trust.”

Today, his son works in the business. Basil’s thinking about retirement, but don’t count on him sitting still. He still walks the parks of Plantation, Florida, with his wife. Still believes in happy moments with pastries. Still remembers what his mother once told him during hard times: “Let’s just sit here and enjoy this.”

It’s advice we could all use.

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