Marketing Inertia

Jun 16, 2008 3:30 PM

I pulled onto the scale at the co-op in Fort to weigh my load. The big gap in my bales lined up perfectly with the giant picture window at the scale. That meant the entire office staff could see my obvious problem. They did not let it go unmentioned, even though I’m not a regular customer there. No, I happened to pick the day when their nutritionist who handles the needs of a couple of hay customers of mine happened to be at the counter. It’s so good to know everyone.

“Looks like you’re not selling ALL your hay, huh, Jeff?”

Oh, a dual jab at both my marketing AND my driving! Gotta hand it to him on that one.

We got the paperwork handled for the scale ticket and I made my way to the auction yard. I was really looking for only one thing. Well, maybe two. I wanted yard manager Big Jim to be in the launch position to unload me in a hurry. You get that back bale off and all of a sudden your mistake disappears. My second wish would be that Billy would NOT be in the yard. I wanted him way the heck out in the country on some long-distance delivery.

I pulled around the corner of the warehouse and didn’t see Big Jim. However, Billy was right in front of me, putting the straps on his load.

Let’s just say he noticed the spatial relation of my load. As always, he addressed me as The Expert. He was enjoying it all a bit too much, I felt, but I was laughing right along with him. Billy’s favorite part was the fact that I didn’t know where my rogue bale was at the moment. Oh, I had a hunch, but not an actual location within a hundred yards. He and I decided that, given the current value of hay, my bale was more than likely at the bottom of a ditch somewhere, almost certainly irretrievable without a team of mules, a block and tackle, and maybe a crane. If it had landed on the road, somebody had probably stolen it by now. Billy figured it was worth almost exactly what it would have cost me to have him haul my load.

I headed back to the co-op to weigh empty and then made my way north and east again. As I turned onto the blacktop above the giant hill, I kept hoping this would end well for me. My bale would be resting comfortably along the side of the road, all by its lonesome. No crushed car would be underneath it and no trail of chaff would lead me from the roadway to its grave at the bottom of a very, very steep ditch where it would lie in a loose heap, its plastic mesh wrap in tatters and its resale value all but zero.

As I made my way down the hill, I saw my bale resting comfortably on the shoulder of the road. It was not even in the middle of traffic, and it was in perfect condition!!!