Sunday, February 26, 2012
The Dalton gun show this weekend was certainly interesting. I found several things I was looking for and I lost one I normally keep.
I lost my temper in a big way. This doesn’t happen very often. I normally just fume inside, and then vent on my way home or on my blog. In fact I almost lost it twice at the show.
The first time I had a customer who would not believe me when I told him Camillus was made in China. He just wouldn’t believe me. I mean it’s listed on the package and honestly, the quality isn’t the same as compared to when they were made in America. I can be mistaken about country of origin or type of steel in the blade, but I never lie to a customer.
He almost throws the knife on the floor and tells me:
“This is terrible. They should be shot!”
Camillus was unable to compete in today’s markets and went out of business. Somebody bought the name and moved it overseas. You have to understand, Camillus didn’t ask me (or apparently him) about making knives in China. I’ve had about all I can take of the automatic response that a knife made in China or anywhere other than the USA is by definition a “crap knife.”
“Let me show you some made-in-the-USA knives,” I said. “Why don’t you buy an American made knife from an American knife seller? Maybe if we buy enough American knives we can convince the manufacturers to bring production back to America?”
“I bought enough American knives,” he sniffed and walked away. I didn’t see any in his translucent plastic bag. Clearly a near miss on the temper scale!
By the end of the Sunday I went for a walk and bought a few little things I was after. I returned to find a fellow opening and testing all my Benchmade knives. He had borrowed a pen from us and was writing the numbers down.
I’ve seen this before. It usually means they will go online and search for the best deal. I’m okay with that. I usually give them a card and suggest that if they find one, email me and I’ll give them the best quote I can. They seldom do this, but it is the way of sales.
“You’re going to see if you can find it online?” I asked.
“No, I’m going to have my buddy, who’s a dealer, order me one.”
So in other words, his buddy doesn’t want to invest his money in buying Benchmade knives so our shopper can try them out and then decide which one he wants. But it’s okay to come over to my table and check ‘em out and rub my nose in the fact that I cannot possibly make a sale.
I admit I lost it. Now, Sister Mary used to say bad language was a sign of the illiterate and un-educated. I agree with her. I could have said:
“You are clearly are a nasty, pathetic waste of humanity who will certainly die alone and unloved in a hospital for advanced stage syphilitic patients. And I hope when you get back to your kennel tonight, your mother bites you.” That would have been the smart thing to say.
Instead I said: "Get the f**k away from my table. (You should) Eat sh*t and die on your birthday.”
Childish? Yes. And I regret it. I’m still P.O.ed and I know Sister Mary would have been disappointed.