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'47,
This is why I started my business.
I called the Wisconsin Board of Regulation and Licensing. I asked for a resellers' license to "sell switchblades to police officers." They asked why I would want to do such a thing, and I answered simply, "No body is doing it, and it would seem a lucrative market."
I got the license.
I set up shop like a wandering gyspy, and carry about 6 to a dozen odd knives and stilettos with me. I look for the badge (yes, I need those stinking badges) or piping on the trousers, and with a smile on my face initiate the pitch, "Excuse me, officer, would you like to buy a switchblade?"
We laugh. We schmooze. He clicks the knife. I ring up a sale.
I think it stems from the fact he can ask questions of a real person, actually see the sharpening process, compare one knife to another and take a business card with a telephone number.
BTW, I carry a copy of my license in my kit. It's been some years, but I still remember The Dane County Jail.
Breakfast is terrible.
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