Featured Partnership Story
Shuttleworth Farm, Westfield, VT
It wasn't working. We had sold our herd of jersey cows and the security of two milk checks a month and purchased 80 western sheep, thinking we could shift gears just like that. It was a leap to say the least. We budgeted, we stretched monthly payments, we went without, we didn't sleep at night, and we budgeted again. We now had over one hundred grass-fattened lambs. Our relatives were our biggest customers and we could hardly stand to charge them full price.
"We serve only New Zealand lamb - it is flown in fresh", "You don't understand, we serve over 700 racks of lamb a year - so why are you here?", "I'm sorry, but I really couldn't be less interested in how your lambs were raised", "Lemme tell you that my experience with you farmers...well it hasn't been very good" The rejections and half-insults rattled around in our heads like the last few pennies in our now very empty piggy-bank. If things didn't improve in the very near future we would be in a real spot. We still had half dozen meetings with chefs/owners/managers of various restaurants, but I felt like turning the car around and going home. This wasn't our first day on the road, nor was it our second, but I was becoming damn sure that it would be my last. Hundreds of dollars of samples given away to people who would never call us back or worse - conditional or non-committal orders, hours on the road, all that time making a website, pamphlets, business cards - and for what? Kelli asked me if I felt OK, said I looked a little pale and I wasn't talking. "We could just go to the next two and then go home if you want" she offered. I assured her that I would make it and that I'd feel better in a while.
We came to the next restaurant and as we pulled past the front door Kelli timidly observed that there was a Vermont Fresh Network sticker in the window. "Maybe they'll be used to dealing with farmers directly" "Yeah, maybe." I replied unenthusiastically. We walked up the wooden walk to the front door, knocked, and were promptly greeted by a tall, reddish hair, man with a rather comforting smile. "Hi, I'm Chef Steve - you must be Kelli?" Kelli confirmed who we were and started on her usual sales pitch. "So do you still have shanks available?" Chef Steve interrupted. "Yes we do, they are..." "Great, I'll take all you have available." "Ummm, they're all available" "Ok, great" "Ummm, but that's like 400 shanks..." "Yeah, cool, that would be great!" "Ummm, do you want a sample?" "Sure, but I'm sure they're great." It took us more than several moments to realize what had just happened. If it had taken me any fewer, I'm sure I would have kissed him. But fortunately, I can be rather dim at times and it wasn't until we made it to the car that I realized that not only did we make this sale, but that we could make this work. And it all seemed to revolve around that little green sticker in the window of the restaurant.
