I am a sucker for the referred fly.
That’s fly as in “fly fishing.”
I just returned from my annual fly fishing trip with a friend of more than 30 years. We fished the Lower and Upper Madison, the Missouri, and the Gallatin rivers near Bozeman, Montana.
Every year, I swear that I will not buy any more flies. Of course, the typical fly fisher has hundreds (thousands?) in his or her vest. At $2 a fly, the excess inventory adds up.
Truth be told, when nymphing (fishing wet flies on the bottom of the river), I rotate between five to 10 flies. Period. Maybe that accounts for my (lack of) success.
Yet, every time I walk into a fly shop, I am suckered by the kid at the counter, usually in his mid-twenties, who recommends a new fly, whether a nymph, streamer or dry.
The conversation goes something like this:
“What are they hitting on?”
“Well, what really works for me is this yak-bug You can use it as your top fly and dead drift it or strip it across the river.”
A few minutes later, I walk out with two or three yak bugs, plus a couple more flies just for good measure.
I try the new fly. It never really works, and then I switch back to what I know. The asset also known as my fly vest grows in value. I wonder if Lloyd’s of London would insure it!
The engine of new business
Cold-calling and its first cousin, direct mail, have their hallowed place in the world of marketing, as, now, does social (Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin, etc).
But in a world of a million imitations and possibilities, and inane status updates, “What really works for me …” will always be priceless.
It will always make me buy another fly.
