Kevin Mooney

Bred from scrappy stock, this little bastard popped into the world on March 1st, 1985, in Sacramento, California. Joe and Barb Mooney were the proud parents, and to my brother’s surprise, I turned out both adorable and a bit of a terror. Five years later, my little sister Kelsey arrived.

My childhood? A steady stream of Ghostbusters, little league, BMX bikes, strip malls, girls, curiosity, broken bones, and a relentless streak of going against the grain. All the classic ingredients for a kid who’d grow up to make his own way in the world.

I had my first girlfriend in preschool—Kelly Costello. Don’t ask me what became of her, but I’m sure she’s killing it. The next solid girlfriend came about 35 years later when I got married. In between, it was just me, my friends, and Rocklin, California—aka suburbia hell, though it wasn’t half bad back then. Safe streets, 90s vibes, and everything you’d expect from a kid growing up in middle America. Sports consumed me. I played year-round, learned to focus, and figured out how to work with a team. But being told what to do? Never really my thing.

When pro sports didn’t pan out, I had to find a backup plan. Right out of high school, I jumped into the working world. Construction, newspaper delivery—you name it, I probably did it. Money meant freedom, and I wanted as much of it as I could get. But eventually, the sameness of it all started to get to me.

At 20, I packed my bags and drove 500 miles north to Bend, Oregon. A fresh start in a town that felt like a time machine—no strip malls, no big-box stores, just something different. I did odd jobs, lived paycheck to paycheck, and eventually landed in the mill, where one wrong move could cost you a few fingers. That’s when it hit me: maybe college was worth a shot.

I spent a few years at OSU Cascades, with a four-month detour in Germany. Officially, I studied International Business, but really, I was mastering the art of beer drinking. It was the highlight of my 20s, but it didn’t exactly set me up for a career. Truthfully, nothing could have. I was always going to do things my way.

After college, I applied for 87 jobs in my first year. Two called me back. Mt. Bachelor, where my lack of snow-bro speak sealed my fate, and Live Superfoods, which offered me $9.50 an hour to sweep floors and sell organic powders. I took it. A year later, I was fired.

During my forced hiatus, I found myself running War Scooters, an e-commerce company owned by a colleague. I applied everything I’d learned at Live Superfoods and got my hands dirty with the ins and outs of running a business. But soon, I felt the pull to create something of my own. Enter Delta Pro Scooters—my first real shot at entrepreneurship.

I dove in headfirst, building the website, setting up payment gateways, designing a logo, sourcing scooter suppliers in China, and learning the ropes of shipping and customs. It was a wild ride. My first trip to China was an adventure—navigating language barriers, questionable food, and way too much Budweiser, all to fill a 40-foot container with scooters bound for Bend, Oregon.

Things were going well until they weren’t. On our third inventory run, I over-ordered, sinking the business with storage costs and mounting overhead. A few hits from Google’s algorithm changes and a lack of marketing savvy sealed the deal. Delta Pro Scooters folded, leaving me with lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way—and a few leftover scooters in the garage as reminders.

It wasn’t all bad. My office was next to Hound Creative, where I spent countless hours annoying Chris. Those conversations turned into a friendship, and eventually, a partnership. At Hound, I soaked up everything Chris could teach me. Over a decade, we grew the agency from logos and websites to six-figure brand strategy projects.

But all good things come to an end. Chris moved on to juggling baguettes and restaurant tables at Jackson’s Corner, and I found myself at a crossroads. Agency life wasn’t calling me back, and selling toilet paper wasn’t in the cards. Then it hit me: what if I built a brand around being 100% me? No fluff, no pretense, just Kevin Mooney.

And so, Kevin Mooney was reborn.