You need a mobile car detailer? I got a guy. You need a case of wine shipped from Napa? I got a guy.
You want a couple tubs of the greatest crab cakes in the world? I got a guy. Seriously! I got a guy. His name is Mark. I have him in my phone contacts as Mark the Crab Cake Guy.
There’s a great little Farmers Market open every Saturday morning at a nearby shopping center called Grand Boulevard. I’ve been going there for years. It’s a smallish affair with 15-20 vendors that show up each week hawking their goods. A couple of farmers sell organic vegetables; there’s a guy who sells doggie treats; there’s a couple that sells olive oil and spicy dips; there’s a woman who sells sourdough bread and cookies. Anchoring the event, and the only reason I go, is Mark the Crab Cake Guy. He makes and sells the best crab cakes in the world. It’s all he does. He gets up in the morning, makes crab cakes and then sells them at multiple markets around the area as well as to local restaurants.
Whenever we have company, I make a point of stopping at the market to load up on fresh crab cakes. One Saturday morning when I got there, he was sold out within the first couple hours. Noting the disappointment on my face, Mark gave me his cell phone number and said, “If you ever want me to set some aside, just text me and I’ll make sure I save some for you!”
Typically when I stop at his booth, we’ll chat for a bit about golf or something. When other people stop to look at his product, I’ll say, “Hey, folks, have you ever tried these crab cakes?” If they say no, I’ll give ‘em my best sales pitch. “You know these are the best crab cakes in the world, right? After eating these, you’ll never order crab cakes in a restaurant again!” More often than not, they’ll buy some. I’d like to think I’m a good customer in that way. If I buy in bulk, say 10 or more, Mark will usually throw in a free tub of cakes.
Yesterday morning, with the weather being on the cool side, I texted my guy to see if the market was going to be open. He said it was closed because of another event at the facility. I told him my wife was suffering from crab cake withdrawals and wanted them for dinner. He laughed and said he was going to be home later that afternoon making some fresh cakes. If I wanted some, I could stop by his house and grab a few tubs. He texted me his address. Come to find out, he lives only a mile from our place.
I had some errands to run in the afternoon. Got my hair cut. Stopped at the grocery store. Washed the car and filled ‘er up with gas. As I was leaving the gas station, Mark called and said, “Hey, just wondering when you were planning to stop over. I have to drop off some cakes at the Acme Oyster House.”
I said, “Actually, I’m right across the street from there! I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
I crossed Highway 98 and pulled slowly into the parking lot in front of the restaurant. When there didn’t appear to be any law enforcement vehicles in sight, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t packing, but I kept my head on a swivel just in case. The sun was setting and it was starting to get dusky. I felt like I was on a clandestine mission to meet with some nefarious dealer. I spotted Mark’s van and he waved me over. Next to him was a beat up minivan. There were two women outside the vehicle who were also trying to get their weekly fix. I pulled up slowly and rolled down my window. We made eye contact. With a discreet nod, Mark opened the back of his van, grabbed a couple tubs from his cooler and put them in an unmarked black bag. I slipped him some cash and we consummated the deal through the window. The two women smiled at me as if to say, “You got yours; now we get ours.” I drove away with a song in my heart knowing that my wife would be having her favorite dinner. That’s a win-win right there!
If you have a leather sofa that needs cleaning, I got a guy. If you want a flat screen TV hung and some A.V. equipment installed, I got a guy. If you want the best crab cakes in the world, I can hook you up. You’ll thank me later.