When Erik and I spoke with Karen Kurycki and Varick Rosete for Cheers & Tiers, they had that easy chemistry of people who’ve survived the trenches together—in their case, the beautiful chaos of running 70 events a year without losing their minds.

Karen’s origin story is classic AIGA: started volunteering at events, became community outreach chair, then VP, then president. But here’s where it gets interesting—four months after attending a social design workshop at a leadership retreat, she launched Discover Design, a mentorship program connecting local high school students with design professionals. It ran for over a decade. Because apparently, when Karen gets inspired, she doesn’t mess around.

Varick joined the board in 2007, thinking he’d try programming. Instead, he became the membership whisperer. His secret weapon? “Just come hang out,” he’d tell potential members. “Don't worry about dues yet.” Turns out, when you remove friction and add genuine welcome, people stick around. Revolutionary, right?

Together, they ran back-to-back presidential terms and turned Jacksonville into the chapter other chapters wanted to be. Their motto: “Have fun. Get sh*t done.” In that order.

The Pringles story has become legendary, and hearing Karen and Varick tell it, you understand why.

Miami, 2007. Leadership retreat. Hotel bars are expensive, everyone’s broke, so they buy a cooler, fill it with beer, and set up at the pool. Someone notices trivia questions on the back of Pringles chips. Next thing you know, it’s swim-up trivia night. Answer correctly, win a beer, make a friend for life.

Who knew snack food could be community infrastructure?

That kind of accidental genius became their signature. In Omaha (2008), they showed up in matching Michael Jackson masks to represent Jacksonville. It was sweaty, creepy, and absolutely unforgettable. Mission accomplished. By Portland the following year, human pyramids had evolved from jokes into engineering projects. Weight distribution was discussed like UX strategy. Height ratios were calculated like conversion rates. They reached for five tiers before hotel security shut it down. The blueprint lived on.

Then there was the “Best Friend Game”—print the full attendee list, pick a random name, find that person before the weekend ends. No prize except the conversation. “People would be like, ‘What do you mean?’ and we’d say, ‘We’re best friends now!’” It was weird. It was delightful. And according to Karen, “It was a good icebreaker for sure.”

Despite Rachel’s memory, Karen and Varick weren’t hosting ragers in their hotel room. They couldn’t—they were usually sharing a double with three other board members, living like design camp counselors.

Instead, they became tactical hospitality ninjas. Scout the floor. Find who has the suite, who has ice, and who brought the good snacks. Keep things moving without burning anyone out. It wasn’t chaos—it was choreography disguised as spontaneity.

They’d deploy teammates for supply runs, recruit other chapters to co-host, and somehow make a hallway feel like the place to be. The secret? They genuinely wanted everyone to have a good time. Radical concept in professional networking.

The parties were legendary. The results were lasting.

After one retreat, Karen came home and launched Discover Design faster than most chapters plan a happy hour. What she saw—mentorship models, social design case studies, real people doing meaningful work—didn't just inspire her. It lit a fire under her entire approach to leadership.

Varick learned that authentic community beats aggressive recruitment every time. Stop selling membership, start building belonging. His “just hang out first” philosophy solved the conversion problem by making it irrelevant. People joined because they didn’t want to leave.

Karen and Varick never led with hierarchy. Their leadership approach was grounded in proximity, not power—create space, invite people in, and trust that something good will follow. Simple in theory, revolutionary in practice.

Omaha birthed a beautiful tradition: if you were still talking at sunrise, welcome to the 6 A.M. Club. No membership fees, no formal structure—just the shared understanding that the best conversations often happen when you’re too tired to perform.

“Yeah, those are the connections you realize you have with people when you’re like hanging out in the Embassy Suites.”

Because a new friend said something you didn’t want to forget. Because the conversation was too good to end just because the sun came up.

Portland. Salt Lake. Denver. If you know, you know. The bonds forged at 5:47 a.m. in a hotel hallway with cold pizza and dying phone batteries? They outlasted most committee assignments by decades.

Karen and Varick eventually stepped back from leadership. But Jacksonville kept their DNA: mentorship programs that actually work, events people actually want to attend, and a reputation for showing up and making things happen.

They didn’t lead by rules—they led by example. They said yes more than no. They remembered your name and your project. They brought the good snacks and made room for joy in the work.

Yes, AIGA Jacksonville feels warm, weird, and welcoming... that’s not an accident. That’s what happens when leaders prioritize people over process, connection over control.

As our conversation wound down, it became clear they didn’t just attend retreats—they helped define what leadership retreats could be: part professional development, part summer camp, part family reunion for people who get excited to draw characters on bottles of glue.

The lesson? Sometimes the best way to build something lasting is to focus on making it fun first. Everything else follows.

Want to hear more stories like Karen and Varick’s? Subscribe to Cheers & Tiers on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. We’ll have more episodes featuring your friends and your favorite design leaders, sharing their journeys, challenges, and triumphs.

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