David leaned across his massive oak desk, a sharp, brilliant gleam in his eye. “Arthur, they aren’t here because they genuinely love commercial fishing. They are here strictly for the visual aesthetic. They want the romanticized, completely sanitized version of your incredibly hard life.”
Arthur stared at him, utterly confused, slowly asking how that obvious fact helped him if the fish were already gone. David smirked, tapping his expensive pen on the desk. “You are legally permitted to operate a commercial fishing business on that dock, correct? There are absolutely no ordinances for an active, zoned marine workspace that could work against you.”
The brilliant, devastating reality of those specific words slowly washed over the weathered fisherman. The influencers wanted “Fishercore.” They wanted the gritty, working-class maritime experience for their perfectly curated videos. Arthur suddenly realized he didn’t need to break any laws or damage any pristine fiberglass to win this war.
He simply needed to give them exactly what they were asking for.