Why I’m Leaving Blade HQ
What a ride! I’ve just spent the past 40 months of my life as the Marketing Manager at Blade HQ. This Thursday is my last day, as I’m moving on to pursue a new professional adventure. I’ve loved working there, and I’ll be forever grateful for the opportunity. But it’s time. If you’re reading this, I suspect you’ve seen snippets of my hot mess of a career, and you’re curious as to why I’d leave what many have proclaimed a “dream job.” Let’s go back to 2011 and I’ll explain:
I was having a small panic attack in my last year of college. You see, I was majoring in Broadcast Journalism and minoring in Film– not a particularly diverse portfolio of skills. I didn’t have a desire to produce the news or work on film sets, and my dream of making documentary films for a living was not likely to produce cash flow.
It was around this time that I went to a presentation by Orabrush and Devin Graham (of Devin Super Tramp fame). They talked about YouTube and how they were using it to advertise and make a living. I was fascinated. This was an incredible mental shift for me: you didn’t have to work for a news network or production company. Video had been democratized, and I simply needed somewhere to plant my flag. And I needed to pay the bills.
Pocket Knives?
Enter Blade HQ: I was sitting at an extended family Christmas party making small talk with my wife’s cousin’s husband. He mentioned he sold pocket knives online, and we launched into a conversation about video content on their website. They didn’t have any, but they wanted to try it. Fast forward 4 months, and Blade HQ brought me on for a 3 month trial. I needed a job for my last year of college, and they hired me at $11/hour to try my hand at YouTube. The initial result was a serious mess:
We made videos about zombies, basketball, and really strange stuff. It was feeling our way through the dark for months and wondering if it would ever actually sell pocket knives. And then things started to come together. We started making field tests of knives and bringing in local experts to talk about the products. It worked, and the audience began to grow. I’d found a formula.
I spent 2 years at Blade HQ making videos, and we gathered a loyal following on YouTube. At some point in the process, I started to realize that video was simply one piece of the marketing puzzle. I needed to understand the other parts: email, social, SEO, and web traffic to continue growing. I started looking for change.
Growth Requires Change
Around this same time, I had a realization that the knife and tool industry was a thing. People made a living in real jobs, not post-college $15/hour gigs. I wanted to grow, so I started networking in knives. I found a position in Oregon with CRKT, landed the job as a Digital Marketing Specialist, and I jumped ship.
My grandfather is a gardner, and I recall he had a room full of plants and pots that he seemed to be constantly modifying. Move a small plant into a bigger pot to keep growing. Trim the dead leaves. Update the soil. Water. It was a methodical process aimed at long-term success. I’m convinced that to keep growing in life, there are times when you must uproot yourself and find a bigger pot. Replace the soil. Adjust the sunlight. Growth often requires change. And so it was, after three years at CRKT I found myself looking for the next opportunity. Nothing panned out job-wise, so I started preparing to go back to school to get an MBA. The day after I got accepted into the University of Utah (they’ll take anybody!), Blade HQ invited me to lunch during an industry trade show. After a sandwich and some small talk, they recruited me as the Marketing Manager in a major company restructure. I put the MBA on hold, moved back to Utah, and started the next chapter.
Railroads vs. Supply Chains
I love to create things. I like to think of myself as an 1860s railway worker: blow up tunnels, make bridges, lay track, pound spikes. Blade HQ offered an incredible opportunity to build onto their existing railroad. I’d learned a few marketing tricks over the years, and I was excited to add management to my bag of tricks. It didn’t go as planned.
Building railroads in Weber Canyon, UT, 1869
Two weeks in, I’d fired someone, and within six months, nearly the whole team had turned over. (Ask me about it sometime. I’ve got stories.) Sheesh. What a way to get into management! The executive team was nervous, but I quickly rebuilt my team and we were putting up numbers in the range of 20% revenue growth– a trend that continued for the next 2.5 years as we built processes that worked. I taught the methodology to a revolving cast of characters in my department and made sure everyone on the team understood how to be successful in the knife industry. Managing the team was insanely challenging and incredibly rewarding. It was my favorite part of my time at Blade HQ.
In the midst of overhauls and revamps, I ended up on our YouTube channel again as a host. I was on-screen for 75 videos called “Knife Banter” where another host and I sat at a table and talked pocket knives.
A few million views later, a total stranger in Chicago stopped me in a museum: “You’re Ben from Blade HQ!” He was a frequent online customer and long-time subscriber to the YouTube channel. He was stoked about pocket knives and stoked about Blade HQ. This experience was a visceral reminder that the railroad was working and the sales reflected it. Before I knew it, these tracks we had built had become a strong supply chain of marketing content and subsequent success. Gone were the days of dynamiting tunnels and figuring out tricky bridges over canyons. This was a consistent track with consistent results. But I was starting to wonder what was next.
Niche Famous
It was the end of August 2018– scorching hot summer. We’d just finished a wild Grand Opening with 800+ attendees and a successful summer sale that wore out the whole marketing team. I was tired as I sat down in my boss’ office for a weekly one-on-one meeting. What proceeded proved to be a turning point in my time at Blade HQ. The nitty-gritties of the meeting are less important than the feeling that I had outgrown my pot; it was time to transplant again. This was the beginning of the end.
Extricating myself from Blade HQ was going to be a challenge, but it needed to be done. “Ben from Blade HQ” needed to become just “Ben” again. To give you an idea of the extent of this challenge, consider a couple stories:
A stranger stopped me in public and said, “Hey! You’re Mr. Blade HQ!” We chatted pocket knives and I thanked him for watching our YouTube videos.
A group of visitors to Blade HQ congratulated me on building such a great business. My explanations that I’m not the owner, just a mid-level manager, fell on deaf ears as the congratulations continued.
A young boy in the storefront started to cry when he met me. Repeatedly telling him that I’m just a regular dude didn’t help him to regain his composure.
My brother, Sammy, walked into a knife shop in San Francisco and started chatting with the shopkeeper. Sammy mentioned his brother worked at Blade HQ. The shopkeeper looked him over and proclaimed, “You’re Ben’s brother, aren’t you?”
I don’t tell these stories to humble brag. I don’t think of myself as niche famous, and I’m constantly blown away that people have any idea who I am.
But the reality is this: millions of people have seen my face in videos and 325,000 YouTube subscribers know my pocket knife preferences better than I do. I was a YouTuber! So why walk away from such a good gig? Because growth. Because opportunity. Because there are more mountains to climb and experiences to have and places to see. I was too comfortable. Too stable. Not enough dynamite. Too many cushy train cars. Not enough professional risk. I wanted to build tracks again.
So, after I’m gone from Blade HQ, will I ever be able to 100% remove my fingerprints from the company? I doubt it. And frankly, I don’t want to. We created amazing, evergreen magic while I was at Blade HQ. I’m proud to have been part of it, and part of me will always be “Ben from Blade HQ,” even after I’m out. But it’s time to pass the baton.
Your Turn to be the Mascot
One of my big goals over the past three years was to create a marketing system that worked independent of any individual, me included. I realized that I needed to phase myself out of YouTube and pass the mascot outfit to someone else. And so, in January of 2019, I quit YouTube, cold turkey. It probably wasn’t the smoothest transition between hosts (people still ask, “Where’s Ben?”), but it was a clean break and a step in the right direction. The move had a couple layers to it: First, I was taking back my personal brand. Second, I was going to spend less time at work and more time with my kiddos. And third, by getting off YouTube prior to leaving the company, I could make sure there was continuity of skills and leadership– I needed the system to work without me. I left the YouTube game in the hands of my very capable team. This also gave me time during work to mentor and manage my team better. The result was the strongest marketing team I’ve had the opportunity to lead, while spending the least amount of time at work possible. Take a look at the YouTube stats from my last three months at Blade HQ:
The most fantastic thing about these numbers? I haven’t touched YouTube since January. These are the team’s numbers. The process is working without me, and I’m pleased as punch. We could pull up numbers from email marketing, SEO, brand growth, campaign successes, and social media and the results would be similar: the team knows how to market pocket knives, and they do a brilliant job without my meddling.
It has taken nearly a full year to remove myself from the public side of selling pocket knives for Blade HQ. People are still asking, “Where’s Ben?” on YouTube, but the audience has taken over the PR side of it: they respond for me at this point. I don’t believe there is a perfect transition with this stuff. But I think we’re there. It’s someone else’s turn to run the program and be the mascot.
Kurt and Zac running the desk with Brendan manning the Wheel of Indecision. Season 2 of Knife Banter includes a new set, new format, and a fantastic opportunity for others to run the show.
What’s Next?
On July 26th, I put in my two weeks with Blade HQ and I let my team know I was out. I’ll miss leading them. They’ve been the best. Later in August, I’ll start a new professional adventure outside the knife industry. It’s throwing me in the deep end of the pool again with tasks I’ve never done and systems I’ve never managed. The learning curve is going to be steep.
Additionally, in the past year, I’ve started a little side hustle selling a wild knife poster I made. I figure I’ll continue to dabble in pocket knives on my own terms and at my own speed. Stay tuned for that hot mess to blossom.
More than anything, what’s next is the sound of dynamite and pickaxes, saws and sledgehammers as I work on new railroads. I’m not sure where that work will take me long-term, but the unknown makes me smile the toothy grin of adventure. And that toothy grin is worth giving up the dream job.