By David Kleinchuster

The early, blaze-orange sun splits between the towering buildings of High Point University on a cold, January morning. Choosing the quick way to class in hopes to make it on time results in you drenching your toes through your shoes and socks in the frosty dew covering the grass. It becomes easy to want to tuck your red capped ears down into the fur lining of your winter coat, reminiscing over the warm sheets of the bed you left this morning.

Every frosty draft of wind causes your arm hairs to stand on end and chills send down your spine. The irritable thoughts of why you ever signed up for a 7:50 a.m. class pounds against the walls of your skull.

Weights of misery strain your legs, making each step a drag as if you were plowing through snow.

The bounding footsteps behind you sound muffled through the thick layer of jacket wrapped around your ears.

A soothing voice reaches out to you.

“Pick up your head boss man,” says Christopher Quick, a gentle man who smiles not only with his teeth, but his eyes as well. He bears gifts for students sulking around campus, especially on miserable days like these.

He hands you a water bottle and a pack of Goldfish with it.

“You have a blessed day man,” Quick says as he retreats to his hut of a kiosk on the intersection of the Qubein School of Communication and Stout School of Education.

The smile he leaves you kindles an internal warmth that drives away the cold memories of the world freezing around you.

There are three kiosks that stretch across the campus of HPU. They stay open from 7 a.m. to 11 a.m. on weekdays. Students who do not have the time to grab a quick breakfast rely on the refreshments and snacks, which they provide while walking to their morning classes.

Huffs, puffs and lowered glares come from the other employees who work in the other kiosks across campus. They do not share the same demeanor as Quick. Many describe them as sluggish and reserved. They keep to themselves or make off-hand complaints of their discomfort having to stand for hours.

“I couldn’t even tell you any one of the other kiosk peoples’ names,” says an HPU student.

But then there is Christopher Quick.

Quick prepares a kiosk for open house.

Students flock to his kiosk. People will park their cars in the middle of the street, running out of their cars just to say hello to him before the Subaru behind them becomes too impatient and blares its horn to signal you to get out of the road and his way. Students and faculty conversing with Quick carry on with genuine smiles that reveal every gleaming pearl in their mouths.

What makes Christopher Quick so special?

He openly shares he never used to be this way.

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Becoming conscious, Quick’s eyes creep open to see his “baby mama,” his two daughters and his nephew perched on the edges of their chairs with their elbows digging into their knees while wrapping around his hospital bed.

Quick’s mind races in puzzlement. He cannot remember his last moments awake.

Alcoholism never just happens. Many life decisions under pressure lead to this position.

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Quick grew up the youngest of seven sisters in a house without proper guidance. As a youth, he began to challenge the world on his own.

His own efforts to reign in the control of his life fell short when he had a daughter in the seventh grade. Having no choice but to manage having a child and just trying to get through middle school at 12 years old wore Quick into a life of frenzy. Not being able to gain control of the pinwheel of his life that began to spin faster and faster, Quick began to pursue a path of anger.

Lacking the proper guidance and discipline, his only hope for stability came from joining the U.S. Army at 17. He spent three years active duty as a chef.

“But as a hot headed 17-year-old, I thought I could take on every officer who got in my face,” said Quick. “Looking back, I recognize that I did not allow the Army to teach me the discipline I needed because I never received discipline in my youth.”

After his three years, he began picking up many jobs as a chef. Though he got to grow in his occupation, what began to grow exponentially was his alcoholism.

Alcohol led him down a dark path of depression, hatred and chaos.

“I almost died twice,” said Quick. “My blood had turned into jelly. This was the moment I realized I needed to turn my life around, I saw the light before I woke up.”

With his family surrounding him, the revelation for the need of salvation overcame him.

He found himself giving his life to Jesus and many life obstacles began to break away. Quick began his road to recovery not only in sobriety, but in spirit as well.

“Sometimes it was hard,” Quick said. “Many of my lifelong friends tried to bring me down with their negativity… I had to separate myself to focus on God’s blessings.”

He keeps a letter of hope written from his nephew when he was on his deathbed hanging on his refrigerator door. “You are loved and needed, Uncle Chris,” it reads. He smiles every morning when he looks at it before he goes to work. To Christopher, it is a reminder that we are to be thankful for every morning we wake up alive.

Quick began his HPU career as a chef at one of the university’s dining locations called the Grille. Deeming this position was not a suitable fit for Christopher, so the university decided to transfer him to start concessions at sporting events.

One day back in 2013, a kiosk employee failed to appear for work and Quick was next in line.

He has been working at that kiosk on the corner of Stout and Qubein every day since.

Waking up every dawning morning, he reflects on his thankfulness to be alive and prays that God will enable him to serve.

“I make a promise to every parent when they are dropping their kids off to HPU that I will take care of them and serve them,” Quick said.

“I make a promise to every parent when they are dropping their kids off to HPU that I will take care of them and serve them.”

Christopher Quick

Majority of kiosk employees view the kiosk stand as a chore. Quick receives the responsibility as a blessing.

“God has opened the door for me in so many ways in this position,” Quick said.

He used to be shy of people and now he embraces them with open arms. This job continues to force him out of his comfort zone, which he shares that God continues to strengthen him in maturity and growth.

“I used to be terrified of dogs,” said Quick. “Now, I keep dog treats at my station so that any time a student walks their dog, I can pet it and feed them.”

He receives every trial and tribulation as an opportunity to be obedient to God. He continues to grow through the love and encouragement, which he always shares to the HPU students.

“This job makes me so happy,” Quick said. “It makes me happy when I get to know students and it makes me smile when they scream hello from their passing cars.”

Quick takes his job seriously. Considering his timely schedule, the reporter offered to spend a day at work with him, but he refused.

Quick did not want to talk while on duty and take his eyes off of his main priority: the students of HPU.

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David Kleinschuster is a senior at High Point University majoring in Journalism and double minoring in Political Science and Military Science. For contact inquiries, please email dkleinsc@highpoint.edu.