Camo Cooker

One of my favorite customers popped into my head recently. I was on a jog in downtown Durham, North Carolina, and passed by Maverick’s - a smokehouse and taproom.  They operate a fairly big smoker on their front patio.

The sense of smell is the most highly linked of the five senses to memory, which is why my run passed Maverick’s brought me directly back to Mr. Camo, who lives in a rural-suburb of central Florida.

He was one of the rare occasions in which I visited a customer twice, but he sticks with me for more reasons than a double visit.

On my first visit, Mr. Camo - a man in his late 60’s - greeted me at the door dressed in a full camouflage sweatsuit. When we walked into his house, I noticed his shotgun propped in the corner of the foyer.

The sweatsuit was not just a fashion statement.

Mr. Camo, however, was an unbelievably nice man. None of the false machismo many of these gun-toters usually exhibit, like a peacock strutting around with their feathers flared.

He stuck with me throughout the entire visit, talking to me while I ran measurements, took notes, photographs, and a video.

When we entered his backyard, I noticed his enormous smoker. This was a custom made tow-behind smoker trailer. I immediately commented on it and began to pepper him with questions about the smoker and his technique.

What do you smoke with a cooker that big?

Oh I do all kinds of different meats. I am retired, but I have a catering business I run on the side. It keeps me fairly busy.

We chatted passionately about how good smoked meat it is; how it is the best way to make turkey by far, and how it is just a fun way to spend the day; a hobby in which to try different strategies, meats, woods, and seasonings to see what works best.

Mr. Camo was like a fun grandfather in our conversations. He didn’t ramble on (although I may have), and he had a good sense of humor, joking about his catering jobs, how he didn’t trust using other venue’s kitchen’s because they don’t keep things as clean as he likes them, and of course, his health issues causing him to cut back on the number of jobs he takes.

Although Mr. Camo was happy with everything I presented on the job, his wife was not present for my call, and he would need to discuss it with her.

This is usually a brush-off from most people who are to hesitant to just say they aren’t interested, but I had a different feeling about him. I told him I would call him in two days to see what he decided.

The next day Mr. Camo called me. He wanted to use our company over a lower priced company because of my presentation, which highlighted some items others missed, and our reputation.

His wife, however, just wanted to go with the cheapest option.

We came to an agreement on price, but Mr. Camo wanted me to come by to finalize the deal in person. Luckily, I had an opening in my schedule near him and was able to stop in to accommodate his request the next day.

When I arrived, Mr. Camo, once again, greeted me at the front door. And, not so much to my surprise, he was donning the very same camouflage sweatsuit. To be fair, he may well have 7 sets to meet his daily needs.

Mrs. Camo was just as nice as her husband - a little more cynical when it came to salesmen - nut nice all the same. After a few minutes the three of us were laughing as we went over the final documents.

Before I left, Mr. Camo asked me if I could come out back to see something.

Absolutely!

When we walked out back, Mr. Camo had his smoker going and opened it up to show me twelve chickens he was smoking. These birds were 5-pounds each, he explained. They barely occupied half of the enormous smoker.

The sight and the smell were fantastic. The chickens were golden brown on the outside and the scent of hickory he was using filled the air.

I will probably never see Mr. Camo again, but every time I see, pass, or smell one of those huge smokers, I’ll be reminded of the big, kind man in his camouflage sweatsuit.