FROM BULLSHITIN' TO TUCKED IN: AN ORVIS CUSTOMER TURNED EMPLOYEE

Dear The Orvis Company,

Photo by Matt Reilly

    During the summer of 2014 I made the obvious personal decision to take a gap semester before going to college, to research a hunch I've had since picking up a long rod.  So I spent the month of September fishing and camping doggedly from Virginia on northward through Maine and back, and the month of November in the Southeast and the alien backcountry of southwest Florida, living off of stale bread, convenience store peanut butter, and pilfered diner jams, all the while keeping friends Michael Kaplan and Jeff Greendyk of the Orvis Charlottesville store well aware of my adventures.  I have since solidified my opinion that a fish bum is the only type of beggar worth being.

    It was my pre-determined plan, once I got home from Florida, to give Jeff a ring and ask him if they needed any help around the shop.  I'd need to do a little something to offset the costly non-resident fishing license and campsites purchases my bank account suffered while I was on the road.  But before I could act, fully aware of my dwindling time in Southwest Florida, Jeff gave me a call after a bitter day of backcountry snook fishing.  He wanted to know if I'd be interested in working in the store until I go off to college in January.  I accepted, and was scheduled for an official interview with the District Manager, Kathy Richter, at the end of the week.

    Interview finished, I was enlisted and in-store for training and work within a week of casting to linesiders in the Matlacha mangroves.  But adventure was not absent.  In fact, I think I had come to know those backwaters of the Sunshine State better in a week and a half than I knew the store after frequenting it for nearly a year.

    I was utterly dumbfounded to learn that there were about 4,000 more square feet to the store than I had previously recognized, mostly filled up with the scaleless monotony of clothes, jackets, and sweaters, with the odd fragrance and wallet mixed in--nice stuff.  The fly-tying wall seemed miles away from the head of the store.  It was slightly disconcerting--like a fish out of water.

    Upon realizing (as I do with some regularity) that I have a serious, perhaps medical, problem--namely the ability and craving to stare mindlessly at flies, tying material, and hardware for an infinite amount of time--I found comfort in the steady stream of customers stopping in to help me along in the healing process.


    "Howdy, there.  Anything I can help you with, ma'am?"

    "Nope, just browsing!" Or "Yes, do you guys have..."

    Each is friendly and supportive of my situation (for the most part), and just looking for something for their husband, wife, kid, dog, or self.

Slow days, perfect for PractiCasting, when there are no clothes to be folded...  Photo by Matt Reilly

    Most are interested in clothing.  That is, after all, what The Orvis Company makes the bulk of it's profit on--or such is my understanding.  Yet I still find it almost laughably humorous that most visitors are surprised by the fishing tackle on the back wall.

    "Orvis sells fishing stuff?" they'll ask.  The first time I was faced with this inquiry I was almost certain I felt my sunburned face twitch.  The mind behind my blank stare glitched, "Orvis sells clothing?"  

    Thankfully, my shift is typically broken up by the welcome spurts of fishing-enthused personalities.

    "Hey, there!  Anything I can help you with, sir?"

    "Yeah, I'm going down to North Carolina to do some fishing and wanted to pick up a few flies..."

    "OK WELL IF YOU'RE FISHING SMALL MOUNTAIN STREAMS OR LARGER FREESTONERS THIS TIME OF YEAR THAN YOU PROBABLY WANT TO BE FISHING HEAVY NYMPHS AND STREAMERS TO GET DOWN BELOW THE SURFACE CURRENT TO WHERE THE FISH ARE HOLDING IN THE COLD WATER COPPER JOHNS AND HEAVY STONEFLY NYMPHS ARE GREAT CHOICES DON'T BE SHY OF USING ONE TWO THREE OR MORE SPLIT SHOT YOU MAY ENCOUNTER SOME MIDGE HATCHES IN WHICH CASE YOU MAY BE TEMPTED TO THROW SMALL DRIES BUT YOU CAN ALSO THROW A CLUSTER FLY LIKE A GRIFFITHS GNAT OR ASHER WHICH I PREFER BUT I DON'T REALLY FISH DRIES IN THE WINTER IF YOU'RE FISHING SPRING CREEKS YOU'VE GOT MORE OPTIONS LIKE THIS KREELEX OR SCULPIN BUGGER OTHERWISE YOU SHOULD CHECK THE HATCHES IF YOU'RE SO INCLINED BWO's MAY STILL BE HATCHING BY THE TIME YOU GET DOWN THERE IF THE HATCHES ARE THE SAME AS IN THE SHENANDOAH AND BLUE RIDGE  IN VIRGINIA.  DO YOU KNOW?"

    This helpful, cathartic rant is typically followed by a careful fingering through the fly bins, upon which the customer might pick out a handful of feathery creations.  Otherwise he decides he actually needn't buy flies to go fishing, and saunters off sheepishly, presumably to return, or rather bag some Carolinian trout with the aid of his bare hands or a net, plopping me right back where I started as a helpless fish bum, totally led on.

    "Oh well, I'll just go talk to Jeff or Dave or something," I'd think.

    Jeff is usually doing something like his job, and there is typically a customer waiting to be asked "Hey, there!  Anything I can help you with?"  I quickly learned that we don't actually get paid to talk to other associates and managers, or go fishing (I might add).  As associates, Jeff or new-to-fly-fishing associate Dave were technically doing their job by talking to me for an hour or more at a time when I was a customer, but not any longer!

    So I'd tether myself to another inquisitive customer in a pathetic attempt to suppress the calling out that comes in a steady stream from the feathered back wall.

    (Slight) exaggeration aside, working at Orvis is a pleasure, and something that I feel suits me quite well.  In fact, healing came in realizing that the job is really quite similar to any other pursuit.  With every person that walks in the door, there is another conversation to be started and puzzle to be solved.  There is no way to be sure who can be sold a product and who can't.  You can't judge a book by its cover; and you can't let your guard down.  Staying alert and always willing to help will in the end sell the most product.

    Most of the questions faced by associates on a daily basis are in regard to store inventory--more specifically, the clothing inventory.  Thus, the first hurdle I had to make as a newbie was in taking in all of the products contained by the front chunk of the store previously unbeknownst to me.  Even in the sporting section, the store contains a variety of products that I was unaware of, if only because I do not personally use them or had not seen them on the shelves I normally scoured.  So I quickly found that spending my free time reading labels, trying clothes on, and memorizing product locations and specs payed dividends.

    Still, there are times, as a new associate, when a customer makes a request that I cannot readily fill.  In such a case it pays to be an enthusiastic team player.  I quickly realized that even the most obscure of inquiries are typically not one-time requests.  Asking a senior team member for help and guidance, and being diligent in understanding the process required to solve the problem, is the most effective recipe for growth.

Access to countless rods makes getting in that half hour of casting practice per day easy!

     However, when a fishing customer does enter the store (and they are willing to listen to an 18-year-old kid), a unique opportunity to teach arises.  As an outdoor columnist and feature writer, this comes rather naturally; and having spent almost all of my life as an outdoorsman waving a long rod doesn't hurt when it comes to knowledge and experience, though I don't claim a lifetime of it.

    Undoubtedly the most joy that comes from the job is in helping kids my age who are new to fly fishing.  In fact, I've made friends through the store, who either live in Charlottesville or go to a college close to Emory & Henry, which I will attend in January.

    That sentiment comes almost hesitantly with regard to the value of the associate discount, which cannot be appreciated enough--definitely not in the mind of a college-aged, fish bum of an associate who spends almost all his money on gas, fly tying materials, fishing gear, and Aquaseal.  Thus, you can be rest assured that my last day (today) will be preluded by a shopping spree in and around that beloved back wall.

    With that, I sum up my first stint as a seasonal employee of The Orvis Company, and conclude the raddest resignation letter that Jeff Greendyk has ever received.  Thanks go to The Orvis Company and Jeff for the opportunity for employment, and for entertaining my obsession since birth.

    Cheers, tight lines, and happy hunting!□

    Matthew Reilly

CASTIN" & BLASTIN": THE BLUE RIDGE MIX

Today was a successful day, to say the least.  

    I met Phillip at his house in Charlottesville and drove to a small brook trout stream in the Blue Ridge, arriving around 8 AM.  After a short hike, we collectively took 40 brook trout over the course of two hours--all, for the most part, on the wonderful little nymph I will show you all how to tie in the near future.  Be on the lookout.

Photo by Matt Reilly

Photo by Matt Reilly

    After returning home and hitting the local pharmacy for some discount fly tying materials, I hit the woods with my 20 gauge pump shotgun for the last hour and a half of light.  Fishing manager of Orvis Charlottesville, Jeff Greendyk, and I, have been devising a plan to learn how to dye fly tying materials--squirrel tail in particular--and I needed materials.  

    In the first ten minutes in the woods, I busted three squirrels holding tight on the forest floor.  They scattered, and I dropped each on three consecutive moving shots.  A triple, on squirrels, for half a limit of the gray bushytails.  

Photo by Matt Reilly

    Another 45 minutes of stalking put me in position to take another squirrel.  From the base of a ridge, I closed the distance to the scurrying and pouncing on the ridge crest quickly, by hopping and skipping in bursts, imitating the noise made by a moving squirrel.  The first shot was presented when an alarmed gray pounced from the trunk of an oak into the branches of another.  And as he was scrambling to establish footing, I dropped him with a swinging report from the 20 gauge.  The next peeked around the base of another oak tree, presenting a head shot that didn't go unclaimed.  Down went another batch of materials and food.  The third held tight on the forest floor for about 30 seconds before making a mad dash up the nearest hickory tree.  I ran forward ten feet before he began his assent up the trunk, which I interrupted, taking a quick knee and firing a quick rising shot.

Photo by Matt Reilly

Photo by Matt Reilly

    With a half hour of light left, I got all the squirrels cleaned and quartered, and landed the tails and one skin in the freezer covered in salt for preservation for dyeing at a later date.  

    To round off the productivity, I was offered two work opportunities--one regarding Adventures Afield, as a column, and another in production fly tying.  More to come on those opportunities!