for the first time in a week, i see the sun. unlike boston, that’s a good thing…means it’s been snowing. i hate to do this to all the east coast riders, but…the east SUCKS….(for skiing) compared to this stuff. it just does. i know it hurts to hear, but it ain’t close. i went out for a few runs this morning. knee deep powder. bluebird skies. nobody on the mountain. i had to turn my back on untracked powder to go back to work. but guess what? it’ll be there tomorrow. dang…
i took this video yesterday, midday. video always makes stuff look flat, but there was good pitch, totally untracked, light, deep. i couldn’t believe it…it was just sitting there. run after run.
if that was somewhere on the east coast, people would be on that like vultures….planet of the gapes. jerry w. would have his 7 kids sliding down, crying, losing equipment…god bless utah.
it’s day 1 here in park city, utah. we got in last night, having taken a few days to drive out from boston to find it had been a pretty good day of skiing according to our property mgr. it was still snowing, i checked the weather report and we were expected to get another 8 inches or so that night. i woke up this morning to find out the storm system had stalled over the cottonwoods and when we opened the door, there was TWO FEET(!!) of utah’s finest waiting outside. i re-checked the weather and it’s looking like we’re expected to get another foot or two on thursday.
let me back up. last year, my wife and i were in colorado skiing. i hadn’t done a lot of skiing since we started downeast (the winter of 2013 i took 2 crappy runs at sunday river and that was it). we were sitting at a mid-mountain lodge at the end of a great day. the sun was shining and i mentioned to cambria that “this is what i’d always rather be doing.”
back up again. i grew up skiing. from before i can remember, my dad would pack us in the car saturday morning, maybe around 5 AM (4 if going to VT). i used to sleep in my ski stuff so my dad would just pick me up, still sleeping, dump me in the car, and i’d wake up 4 hours later at killington. i eventually got into racing, where i skied out of cannon NH (one of the best in the east if you don’t mind extremely cold temps), skipping school every friday to train for the races that weekend. next was a ski school where skiing was first, school second. i spent a year before college on the road racing…colorado, europe, south america. i eventually settled at bates college to finish my skiing “career”.
starting downeast cider was a time-consuming activity to say the least and i basically quit skiing…part because time, part cost, and part burn-out. i’d been skiing over a hundred days a year for a long time. training. tiny, cold boots. long hours on the road. long hours of tuning. long hours of video analysis. long hours in the wight rooms.
but i digress: “this is what i’d always rather be doing”. and cambria said, “why not?” that was all it took. both of us do work that can be done remotely. why not? that afternoon, still in colorado, we started looking at apartment rentals. it took us less than a week to put a deposit down on a place in park city utah. neither of us have been here before last night, but its reputation speaks loudly. the town of park city is known as one of the best, most lively ski towns in the world (playing host to sundance film festival every jan) and the snow in utah is some of the most bountiful, dry snow in the world.
so here we are, waiting for the sun to come up like a couple of kids on christmas, and santa’s brought 2 feet of the good stuff.
…is a steaming pile of bs.
a few years ago, i was reading over some emails and i noticed that we were responding to donation requests that we were turning down: “…sorry, but we aren’t able to help you this year…” and i thought that was lame of us. we were able to donate, we weren’t out of money, we were just being selective on what donations we were making, and a few didn’t make the cut. the correct answer was, “…we will not help you this year…” it sounds a little crueler, but it’s also more honest. i made it a point to change our language with these responses.
i feel the same way when someone tells me (or i tell someone) “i don’t have the time” …it’s a cop-out. everyone has the exact same amount of time. barack obama has the same amount of time as the chump in their mom’s basement:* 24 hours/day. the only variable is how we use our time.
so what we really mean when we say “i just don’t have the time” is “i choose not to spend my time on that”. obviously there are some instances where we truly do not have the time, but most of the time, we’re trying to cover a choice with a white lie.
*i think technically, due to space-time relativity, people at higher altitudes have less time than those at lower altitudes (and people in the ISS)…but that’s microscopic and pointless semantics.
as the adage goes: “try to be everything to everyone…end up nothing to no one.” so let me state it for the record…downeast cider house is not above fart jokes. never have been. never will be. is everyone in the world on board for fart jokes? nope. are we going to lose customers due to our support of fart jokes? ‘fraid so.
*disclaimer, there are no “political opinions” below…just marketing curiosity.
i’m not a politics guy. don’t care for it. don’t spend much time thinking about it. despite my apathy, of few bits of this crap have been jammed in my face over the past few months…and by far, the most interesting thing to me is the power of marketing…the creation of the story we tell ourselves.
trump: make america great again…say what you will about the guy, but the story is an easy one for certain people (and i suppose almost the majority of voters) to tell themselves. “america used to be awesome. things aren’t good enough for me/us. i want things to be better…like they used to be.” power of nostalgia. power of dissatisfaction. so despite people’s fears about whether this guy was “fit” to be the president, his story won out.
hillary: stronger together…pretty “boring” story to many. and from what i saw with political ads, there was also a whole lot of, “hillary clinton: she’s not the other guy”…which isn’t much of a story either.
so i guess it turns out that selling a country on a candidate isn’t much different than selling a country on a car or a brand of potato chips? seems kinda fudged up. probably why i have a distaste for politics.
there’s too much gold in here not to share. this is a text thread we have going for sales (and sales-ish) people as it sometimes gets lonely out there. i’ll try to update regularly.
(unfortunately the following doesn’t include jt’s dazzling rendition of tainted love to an empty bar)
to be continued…
i wonder which, as a company, is a better position to be in?
if you’re over-achieving that’s awesome. it means you’re working hard and getting the most out of what you’ve got. it’s like the white guy wide receiver cliches. “he’s…a gym rat. high motor. deceptive speed. intangibles. scrappy.”
that’s great, parents would be proud, but it’s also a limited ceiling. if you’re getting the absolute most out of what you’ve got – be it your resources, market, ideas, product, etc – you don’t have much room to grow. say what you will about julian edelman, he’s never gonna be randy moss.
and speaking of randy moss…the under-achiever ain’t bad. it means you have a whole lot of room to grow and get better. and if you don’t get the most out of your potential, i bet it’s still sweet to be randy moss. or AI. both hall of famers.
every quarter we have a customer service competition. i got this submission…austin won’t hold the belt for Q3, but his story must be shared. as told from the man himself, i present, mr. austin gaquin does farmer willie’s:
Let me tell you about the day I accidentally started working for Farmer Willie’s.
It was an otherwise normal day. A warm, sunny August afternoon. I was strolling the streets of the Boston’s beautiful South End. Eventually I found myself indulging in the splendid array of draught beer available at Five Horses Tavern. A normal, luxurious day in the life of Austin — the kind of day a Max Goransson type can only dream of.
Whilst indulging I noticed two cans of Farmer Willie’s in the center of a small tray headed toward the back of the establishment. The tray was being carried by a human, of course.
Now, there are twenty-plus draught lines at Five Horses Tavern, so a pair of drinkers seeking Farmer Willie’s struck me. Had they had it before? Are they big fans? Did their curiosity of ginger beer overcome them?
Having spent many an afternoon on the roads and beaches of lower Cape Cod this summer, I more than once shared a drink with Farmer Willie’s co-founder Nico. There was always an aura of mutual respect between us, a sense that we’ve got each other’s backs out there.
So, on this lovely summer day at Five Horses Tavern, I followed the tray with two Farmer Willie’s cans to its destination, where sat two hopeful Farmer Willie’s virgins. I told them I liked the product, and was friends with one of the founders, and to the best of my ability I explained to them the complexities of ginger beer — which is to say, I told them it was ginger beer, and that it was refreshing.
Another pair of nearby diners overheard our conversation and asked me about Farmer Willie’s. I bought a can and let them try it.
It was at this very moment that I realized I had accidentally started working for Farmer Willie’s — which was, to the say the least, a startling realization. I like Farmer Willie’s and all, but I’m happy where I am. Or at least I thought I was, until I began this new life as a salesperson at New England’s craft ginger beer company.
Fortunately, the second pair of lunch-goers gave me an out when they asked if I worked for the company. Admittedly not sure where I worked anymore, I took a stab in the dark and told them I worked for Downeast Cider House.
Both pairs of lunch-time gourmands, four newfound ginger beer aficionados in total, erupted. We love Downeast Cider!!! It’s our favorite cider! No, it’s OUR favorite cider! Nuh-uh, OURS. They bickered and bickered.
“I’m not sure you realize,” I pensively remarked, “but we’ve just now engaged in a game of pay it forward. I think you’re responsible for teaching future diners, here or elsewhere, about Downeast Cider.”
They agreed, and asked me what to say.
I offered them three quick things that make Downeast different: we’re (1) unfiltered, (2) local, and (3) not from concentrate.
They said that was easy to remember, and they’d be happy to spread the word.
“Good apostles,” I didn’t say.
I returned to my spot at the bar.
On their way out, the first couple with whom I interacted told me I’d made a pair of lifelong Downeast Cider drinkers with my friendliness.
I thanked them for good conversation, secretly terrified that my new boss at Farmer Willie’s would be pissed.
sometimes i send emails to the company with my thoughts on things…figured i could post them here for whatever they’re worth…. here’s the latest:
words are hard.
exclamation points are easy!
we sometimes use them as a crutch instead of a tool, because it’s easy to add a “!” than to come up with the appropriate words to describe a thing or situation.
particularly with brand messaging…take this facebook post:
the “!” is a crutch to allow for lazy copywriting, without it we’ve got:
join us at redstone liquors for a pumpkin blend tasting.
that’s pretty damn vanilla and lame. rather than using a “!” to get away with bad copy, consider using words. it’s harder but more meaningful:
join us at redstone liquors for pumpkin blend samples, suggestive language, crude humor, and partial nudity.
and while not as important to me as brand messaging, consider this in your personal communication as well.
sarah: i sent you that form.
jim: thank you!
sarah: i sent you that form.
jim: sarah, you saved the day, thank you so much for your help.
Are you 21+ OR capable of lying on the internet?