Tom’s not so tall Tales

It was an interesting day at the Farmer’s Market this past Saturday. I’ve always been a fan of the soft sell. Shopping should be fun and having a vendor engage you about everything but the transaction you are about to make is part of the atmosphere of the market. This is the first summer we have Poplar Grove raspberry spread available all through the season and on Saturday I tested the theory of trying to talk customers out of a sale. Sounds absurd does it not? Well, the market is part theater and absurd is a great adjective right after ‘bizarre’!

You see, Saturday was the height of the fresh strawberry season in southern Manitoba. Our marketing claim to people is that we catch summer in a jar so that you can enjoy it all year long. But when fresh, local berries are right in front of us, they should be the first choice of any discerning customer. Guess what happened when I told people to go buy fresh strawberries and remember us in September.

They bought the strawberries.

They bought the spread.

They bought more spread than at any market this summer even though there was rain and gale force winds.

Go figure. I’m gonna keep using the soft sell approach.

Last Sunday I was at our stall at the Farmer’s Market, where we sell Poplar Grove Farms raspberry spreads, mulling over a problem. Problems are best mulled over - but never lurk around a problem. I found out that ‘lurking’ is a crime in Minneapolis. Left in place since the 1850’s, it is one of those offences that make me smile. All lurkers - stay clear of the Twin Cities. Well, my problem had to do with not enough lurking. I had assembled a crew to work our stall in the time I would be out of Minnesota and we needed one more body to round out the 2 person crew some Saturdays and Sundays.

Around 10:30 an engaging customer came by. She asked lots of questions about our product, eventually succumbing to my soft sell techinque. Just about to leave with her purchase, she asked if I could guess what longstanding dream she had. ‘Go ahead and tell me,’ was my reply. ‘I would just love to be on your side of the table and sell at a farmer’s market! That would be so cool.’ Dreams do come true and I no longer have a problem. Imagine that!

Welcome to Tom’s Not So Tall Tales, launching from the peaceful waters of the blue Pacific Ocean. I am 200 yards from the shoreline in Victoria, British Columbia on the longest day of the year, June 21, 2008. I just realized the symbolism of this and it is the geographic ‘book ends’ that are mine this summer. I am here on the west coast building interest in Poplar Grove Farms raspberry spreads. In the last 3 months my coworkers and I have worked extremely hard launching this product that comes from the farm south of Winkler, Manitoba. We have the product it stores in Winnipeg and Minneapolis. Soon it may be time to go west.

The other bookend happens to be where I will be at the end of summer. I will dip my toes in the Atlantic Ocean while in Prince Edward Island. It just happens that I will have a child commencing school on PEI in fall and I cannot miss this chance for my first visit to meet Bud the Spud from the bright red mud, they call Prince Edward Island. I once met a McPhee whose family were butchers on the island - I wonder if I will be able to find them.

I am reminded about a CBC story that came from the Maritimes about party lines. Most of you won’t know that the prairies and a few other places like down east were the last places in Canada to get private phone lines for households. Before this 3 to 6 families shared one line and you had to say ‘line busy’ before dialing. Numerous clicks of the reciever being lifted and set down signalled an impatient neighbor waiting for their turn.

The elderly person interviewed for the radio show recalled that her family could tell who might be listening in on their calls because of the sound made when the lid of the woodburning cookstove clanged after a log was put on the fire. Moffat stoves had a slightly lower sound than the lighter McClary stoves. To prove they were being spied on they would either start talking about the neighbor thought to be listening until they heard the reciever being hung up or they would make up an outrageous rumor and then wait to see how long it would take for it to return to them. The sun has now risen in Japan - it’s time to hit the hay. Cheers.

Tom