In 2024, my husband Rob and I went on a week-long cycling trip through Vermont and into Canada. Rob is a serious and dedicated cyclist and I am not, so we chose a company that understands this dynamic and creates experiences that work for everyone.
We had a fantastic trip. I rode an e-bike and Rob road a fancy road bike. I took the easy routes each day (which some days were not particularly easy, even on an e-bike) and Rob took the most challenging routes. We ate fresh cheese (made by these cows) and maple ice cream and made friends with the other members of our group, who live all over the world.
Our guides were three very young, very well-trained, and very fit leaders. We felt like we were in good hands — and one of them, Tessa, took it upon herself to make sure I always had enough to eat on our daily picnics. I have a laundry list of foods I have to avoid because they are migraine triggers, so when everyone is eating sandwiches, local baked goods, and artisanal chocolates, I have to find alternatives. This reality makes travel pretty challenging, and Tessa worked hard to make my trip as easy as possible.
Yesterday, out of the blue, Tessa texted us and said she was in our town doing some work for the adventure company. She wondered if we were free to meet for coffee.
We were so taken aback by the invitation. Tessa is our children’s age. We thought, “Is this a marketing ploy? Are we being marketed to? Do they do this with all their patrons? Are we stepping into a trap?”
But we had such good memories of our trip and of Tessa. We decided to ditch the skepticism and go.
We met for lunch — and spent two delightful hours talking about cycling, yoga, all the amazing adventures Tessa has gone on, what the locals do in our town, how business was going for me, whether she might start a consulting side gig, where she was headed next. We laughed and had a great time and thought about where we might go to next, as well.
It made us so happy. In the midst of so much terrible world and local news, it was an afternoon that reminded us of what matters: memories and the spark of connection.
We can’t answer the question of whether or not we had been snared in a marketing trap. We enjoyed our lunch with Tessa so much. We loved the notion that we had made a friend in one of our leaders from that Vermont trip, which had been such a special trip. We loved that we could have such a fun meal with someone our children’s age. We enjoyed imagining the places we might go — and perhaps with this adventure company.
So were we marketed to? I don’t think so, but even if we were, it didn’t matter.
It made me think: what if you knew that your ideal client really wanted what you were selling? What if you knew that they were delighted to hear about your offer? Wouldn’t that completely change the way you think about sales and marketing?
This post brings back the time where I thought to myself, "I know I'm being sold to right now, but they're doing such a good job that I'm loving it." I think that's a good goal to have. Not that your marketing in invisible necessarily, but that it makes the other person feel good.