A Misplaced Amish Surfer Beach Bum

Would you buy something from me? I'm a terrible salesman.

I'm a great behind the scenes guy, I like to think. I produce quality stuff, and those businesses I've worked with and for have always seemed to think so too.

But I'm still a guy in jeans and a t-shirt, a misplaced Amish surfer beach bum.

When I took my first newspaper job, after graduating from Ohio University, I felt that I needed to wear a suit and tie. But I quickly noticed that people didn't trust me in a suit and tie. It looked like I was uncomfortable and it looked like it just didn't fit me. I looked like I was faking it.

Also I learned that if I had to meet and talk and interview ordinary folks out on the streets, that they didn't trust a guy in a suit. Of course city officials and professionals expect to see me in a suit, but I learned that as soon as I start talking I could win their trust.

That all worked out well as a newspaper reporter. Now with my own business . . . well, who knows.

I did decide a long time ago that I have to be me. I have to come across to people I work with and for as genuine.

But being genuine doesn't necessarily make me much of a salesman. Although, I have worked with some very genuine salesman.

During "Marietta Days," an all-over town yard sale which draws folks into Marietta in the thousands, I watched and learned how Barb and Alyssa where so much more approachable than I.

If I stand out on the sidewalk people don't approach our little stand. If Alyssa and/or Barb are out there, people approach them in droves. So I tend to stay out of site so I don't hurt sales.

I've watched Alyssa place product in a logical fashion, matching what she thinks would match how a customer approaches and browses the stand. Customers ask questions and she has a great, big smile mixed with laughs and giggles.

I'm sorry. I just can't do the laughs and giggles thing. It's just not part of me.

But it's funny how geography plays such a big part in sales. This is Central Pennsylvania and we feel greater trust and faith in hiring locals, with the Dutchie talk and the Dutchie background and the Dutchie work ethic. We're conservative in nature.

Many around these parts feel much safer working with a local. I can't blame them. Most aren't going to choose to work with a "city slicker," or a misplaced Amish surfer beach bum.

It's funny. Through the years, whenever I've gone to the Outer Banks, everyone thinks I'm a local. My uncombed hair, my look, my demeanor, my sun-drenched everything, my cut-off shorts and t-shirt, to my surprise everyone there treats me like a local.

I'll never forget going into Tommy's Market one summer (Tommy's is a little gourmet grocery store heading north up the island), and when I got to the register some dude started asking me about surf conditions and telling me where he thought it was best.

How did he know that I had a surfboard in the car? I was a local. I never felt more at home, more where I belonged, than on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

I could do business there without the suit and tie. People would absolutely have faith and trust in doing business with me, cut-off shorts and all.

Now the Outer Banks is overrun with tourists. I doubt I'd feel at home there anymore. All the folks that trashed the New Jersey beaches now go to the Outer Banks to trash those beaches too.

But don't get me wrong, misplaced Amish surfer beach bum or not I'm still at home in Central Pennsylvania. And I wouldn't trade my chance of meeting Barb and Alyssa for anything in the world.