Growth, Grit, And A Hard Truth About Respect

The fair season closed with grit, gratitude, and a head-on look at what growth really costs. We went into our biggest event—Fryeburg Fair—betting on a larger footprint, a sharper display, and the belief that curb appeal meets conversion when it’s backed by meaningful product and mission. We added 10 feet of space, freshened canopies, and dialed in a more cohesive presentation. That upgrade came with real numbers: rent increased by a third, a new 10x20 tent and components ran about $4,500, and total space-related costs climbed close to $6,000 before more grid wall, more inventory, and all the invisible labor. We also got hit with vehicle issues, rented a box truck, and still showed up on time because a community of friends, family, and customers refused to let the dream stall. Opening day delivered our second-largest day ever, and momentum looked real. But the week leveled out: only one day beat last year, the new bonus Saturday helped the average, and we finished a close second overall—about $1,000 shy of last year’s record. Not the outcome we wanted, but a result we can build on with clarity.

What did we learn from going bigger? Attention isn’t just a metric, it’s a multiplier. With 30 feet of frontage, entirely new customers noticed us for the first time, even after multiple years attending. That curb appeal is not a vanity metric; it’s a discovery engine. Placement matters too. With more space, we studied flow, tested product positions, and watched items sell out by shifting them into high-traffic sightlines. We operated from a detailed, hand-built spreadsheet: last year’s SKU-level sales, sizes, and styles compared to this year’s on-shelf units, then midweek adjustments based on run rates. That granular approach yielded clear winners and exposed designs that underperformed. The bigger layout also cut setup complexity for future events: two 10x20 tents beat three smaller units for speed, cohesion, and staffing. And the psychological win mattered—standing inside our original footprint and then stepping into the expanded space showed us how far we’ve come, and how far we can go with smarter inventory, tighter merchandising, and stronger storytelling.

The hardest part wasn’t numbers—it was people. A louder presence drew a louder minority of hecklers. Some passersby mocked our brand and patriot themes, yelled political barbs, disrupted customers, even ripped Made in USA tags. One anonymous email hid behind a fake address to scold us on flag use, all while ignoring the obvious: we champion American-made goods and real makers. We chose composure over conflict, because the mission is bigger than any drive-by comment. Here’s the paradox: the same attention that draws critics also brings in supporters. Regulars told us we are now part of their Fryeburg tradition—“We buy a sausage sandwich, a Christmas ornament, and something from you.” That loyalty overwhelms the noise. It also proves a growth signal: when you ruffle feathers, you’re no longer invisible. Resistance is a compass—if you never feel it, the goal is probably too small.

On the operations side, the hits kept coming. The bus issues traced to a failing ABS module causing cascading electrical problems. Unplugging ABS let the engine run, but the fix involves a pump/module, new lines, calipers, and more—estimated $4,000–$5,000 on top of prior maintenance. That strain forces a pivot: road shows on pause, new revenue paths now. It’s pressure, yes, but pressure can be direction. We’ll refresh designs, refine price ladders, and build modular displays that travel lighter. We’ll strengthen the web funnel too. The new QR-coded wall—flag logo, mission statement, and direct link—proved its value. Even closed, our booth can pull visitors to the site. That’s an always-on lane we’ll now optimize with tighter product bundles, clearer shipping thresholds, and a stronger email cadence to extend fair-day interest into year-round sales.

A moment that could have gone viral—but didn’t—underscored our values. The governor stopped by with cameras and a request for a photo. We stayed gracious and busy serving real customers, and the entourage moved on. We chose brand integrity and customer focus over a quick publicity hit. That choice might not trend, but it tracks with our mission: faith, family, freedom—and doing the work in front of us with respect. And there was grace amid the grind. Bald eagle sightings—first by me on the drive, later by my mom circling our farm—felt like a nod from my late father, the reminder we needed that we’re seen, guided, and steady. Signs don’t pay invoices, but they strengthen resolve. Resolve decides whether a near miss becomes next year’s record.

Here’s where we land. We didn’t break the record; we built the runway. Second-best sales ever under tougher conditions means our floor rose, not just our ceiling. The expanded booth unlocked new audiences and clear data on placement and pacing. The negativity showed we matter—noise follows signal—and