Kate is our very own Simba: Everything the light touches is her kingdom. Any DECKED images and videos that make you spit-take your Montucky Cold Snack and go, “Hell yeah!” have likely been touched by her famous hands. The former tweezer hand-model plucked herself from her native Oregon, home of craft breweries and ¼ of the U.S. llama population, in favor of gin & tonics in the state responsible for ⅓ of U.S. potatoes. Kate graduated from Westminster College in SLC with a B.S. in Environmental Science, churning out a no-BS dissertation on maintaining a healthy GPA-to-powder-day ratio. And while you’re still busy fawning over her work, she’s already made the 4-hour pilgrimage to Trader Joe’s and back and is out with her pup, Abbey, paddling, fishing, hiking, running, biking, or skiing 3 different ways - fueled by lactose-free ice cream and comforted by the knowledge she’s far from most varieties of olives.

Judging by the featherweight amount of info he provided for this bio, you’d guess Rich is a man of few words. But it’s hard to be sure—he won’t say. Legend has it that he wasn’t born, but rather grew from the depths of the Great Salt Lake when a Tour de France-winning bike that was hucked into its waters slowly crystallized into a structure vaguely resembling an Excel spreadsheet we now call “Rich.” He’s got the SLC origin and BYU learnin’, but what really sets Rich apart was at LoToJa, longest one-day USAC-sanctioned bicycle race in the country, where earned the coveted yellow sticker. Translation? Rich ain’t no slow-poke. And while his speed is most likely a result of talent, grit, and hard work, it’s important to consider his misophonia and distaste for being unnecessarily cold: we can’t rule out the possibility he’s hauling ass away from a prowling pack of loud eaters or furiously pedaling just to stay warm.

Kent Hahn isn't your ordinary semi-driver; he's Hahn Solo, daredevil pilot of the Millennium Falcon of the DECKED truck fleet, though thankfully without the 8-foot-tall, yodeling-sasquatch sidekick. His true nickname, "Big Country," he announces with pride, but won’t reveal its enigmatic origin. Our best guess? It's because his shoulders are wider than the broad side of a barn and his favorite color is "camo.” Kent is a family man through and through, who ain’t afraid to stiffen that upper lip and work his way from the bottom up. He’s an expert in the mysterious craft of fish-whispering, known to coax walleye into his hands with a recitation of "The Fish" by Marianne Moore. He's known to sneak up on whitetail to within 18 inches and enjoys chopping wood, not for the workout or even to keep warm in the winter, but because he just really hates plants.

Spencer is the only student in the history of Harvard to complete an MBA from a ski resort, a beach, the backseat of a rental car, and a Miami dance club – setting numerous World Excel Spreadsheet records along the way. Equipped with the longest job title at DECKED, this handsome bugger was born and raised in a blueblood enclave at sea level, but don't let that fool you: Spencer is as at home among the ivy rubbing elbows at a country club as he is on high altitude death hikes and rolling into seedy mountain town bars with a shotski tucked under his arm. A surprising blend of civilized and blue-collar, Spencer learned how to use power tools in under 48 hours (wherein we learned he does indeed have a Venn diagram tramp stamp).

What do you get when you combine equal parts sweet tea and Skyline Chili in a crock pot shaped like a cowboy boot? Indigestion. And AshLee: the 50%-Texas, other-half-Ohio, data-devouring eComm queen of making sure not a day goes by that you don’t see DECKED everywhere you look. You know this former Badass of the Month at YETI and Rumpler of the Year at Rumpl comes to the table ready to GSD, sporting a BS and an MBA from the U of Dayton. Speaking of letters, unlike most of us here at DECKED HQ, AshLee learned how to read and is a voracious consumer of high-stakes paperback peril in the form of a thriller novel. But cozied up in her reading chair is about the only free time you’ll find our favorite furniture-flipper (refurbish, not tantrum) indoors and sitting still: She stays on the move rambling with her canines, cosplaying homelessness (i.e. camping), and dodging unsolicited Facebook messages like Floyd Mayweather Jr. in his prime.

If you’re casually strolling through the buzzing manufacturing facility that is DECKED Ohio and hear the voice of an absolute angel soaring above the industrial cacophony, that’s Trevan: one-time male choir member of the year. Which choir? Which year? You’ll be too enchanted to care. Get this man his beloved morning java, followed quickly by a Diet Dr. Pepper for good measure, put the Lions game on, and watch Trevan ascend to glassy-eyed bliss. As a McLaren Racing superfan with a devotion stronger than the Manson family, and as the only one of his siblings that can drive stick, it’s a miracle this Northwest State College grad hasn’t ended up incarcerated for making like Niki Lauda on the streets of Defiance. But then, the last time he had a need for speed, he ended up face-planting right in front of the grandstand while running a relay in a track-meet tragedy that clearly wised him up to the dangers of unbridled velocity.

You don't meet a lot of arrow-slinging, soccer-playing, art-directing, English rednecks, but that is what makes DECKED, DECKED. We found Beni being held in timeout at the Louvre museum for touching the art (a god-given right he claims to have), and saved him by bartering his soul for a six pack of Boddington's. Beni started his career playing and later coaching football, as they call it where he is from, or soccer as we call it where we're from. But bad ankles and a trick knee saw him abandon the greatest game on earth for the keyboard minefield of graphic design. When Beni isn't outdoors, he's wishing he was outdoors and usually figures out how by using his "kill two birds with one stone" operating API. A big fan of Yorkshire tea (whatever that is and who knows why you would even drink "tea"), Beni will tell you that it's not only the best tea, but the only tea.

Whoever coined the phrase, “You better put a ring on it,” came up with it while studying Bryce’s bio. Senor Long learned his ways growing up in Liberty Center where he majored in corn fields, white tail deer, game blinds, and duck farts. He’s had the same girlfriend for at the writing of this piece, nearly a decade, but for a guy that spends more time in the blind and in the field than he does in his own house, remembering to go to Zales and then trying to run into your girlfriend at the right time seems to be two coincidences he has not seen unfold as of yet.

Undefeated 5th Grade Times Tables champ. Voted Best Beard at Desert Hills High (in a field of one: himself). If you think Matias Rodriguez—the Fortnite Finesser, The Longhorn Steakhouse Savage—peaked with these glorious achievements, you’re way off. As the one and only “Matias” in all of Washington County, UT, he once held a spot among the top 20 players in Call of Duty: Black Ops and can talk sh*t to his online opponents equally well in both English and Spanish. Born in El Talar, Argentina, and raised in Utah, Matias is a Mensa-adjacent number-nerd who can track pallets of CargoGlides across the warehouse by scent alone and whose worst nightmare would be a bad driver piloting a truck laden with pickles.

Casey's application for U of Oregon included tidbits about nearly torching the family homestead with a bottle rocket at age 9 (a tale of survival) and winning an award in his high school Apparel & Design class (a tale of triumph) which had a gal-to-guy ratio of 29:1 (a tale of genius). His buoyant positivity keeps office morale afloat, but that metaphor is where his aquatic ability ends: despite spending more time around water chasing food than a ‘gator with a tapeworm, he can barely tread water. His strengths lean towards pursuing game (particularly beak bending and cock walks) and fishing (fly, spin, cast, probably noodling). If it’s in-season and has a weird name, Casey’s into it. The only thing he loves more is his Home Team, consisting of wife Taylor and their two dogs, Maude and Blanche. Casey lives by “carpe diem,” with a strong distaste for “glass-half-empty” mentalities. Unless that glass is half-full of olives, in which case he’d prefer to smash the glass and run away screaming.

From southern California roots to a southern Utah upbringing, Ian doesn’t back down from much—except cold weather. After snapping his ankle like a plastic fork at a BBQ while ripping around on his dirtbike, he slapped a lift kit and knobbies on his knee-scooter and rolled into work three weeks later like it ain’t no thang, with a welder in one hand and a WW2 history book in the other. Certified through Dixie Tech and currently sharpening his skills at Utah Tech, Ian’s a fabricating machine who spends his weekends debating the tactics of the Battle of the Bulge, stacking groups at 100 yards, or flinging sand like a miniature tattooed haboob on his two-wheeled death-machine at the local dunes.

Please don’t tell Amanda you read this—she does not like to be the center of attention. Born and raised in the wildlands known as “Northwest Ohio,” Amanda’s approach to bookkeeping could be compared to a tightrope-walking mime, keeping everything in perfect balance with a quiet precision (sans makeup and beret). Even among the many pursuers of game here at DECKED, this University of Toledo grad holds perhaps the most unique hunting achievement of all: the first (and only) animal she ever "bagged" was a squirrel whose daring final act was attempting to thread the needle between 12-year-old Amanda’s bike spokes. When she's not meticulously managing numbers and mistakenly mangling rodents, you'll find Amanda getting lost in the Friday-night lights of a hometown game, getting lost in a three-hour-plus classic movie, getting lost out on the muddy Maumee River, or finding herself with her toes in the sand of “literally any, please just get me there” warm and sunny beach.

Ashley was the only girl at Liberty Center High who drove a Trans Am, blasted Foreigner, and feathered her hair, preferring burnouts in the parking lot over cheerleading tryouts in the gym. She’s a NW State Community College grad with an associate’s in business management and a minor in talking sweetly while slitting your throat with a letter opener. When she isn’t all jacked up on Gatorade energy drinks, running ops in Defiance with the precision and quickness of a watchmaking mongoose, she's out with her two daughters adventuring the Ohio countryside in search of anyone who works harder than she. Current count: 0. Believed to be cold-blooded (reptile not murderer, but don’t test it), she despises any temperature below “nippy” and can be seen in winter months zipped to the eyeballs in some new-fangled, 12V-heated dreamcoat or basking in any spot of sun next to her trusty solar-powered hammer.

With a bizarre aversion to the classic cartoon Popeye, Andrew never could acquire a taste for spinach - a nutritional powerhouse that might have helped him stay “strong to the finish” pursuing his hoop dreams across three different colleges. After a hat-trick of two broken feet and a blown-out knee, the corn-fed, born-and-bred Iowan hobbled like a peg-legged sailor all the way to Switzerland (the Iowa of Europe), where he lived for 15 years. A 10+ year veteran of the UN, Andrew became known to friends and enemies as “The Diplomat”, though he appears to have no living enemies. Andrew may not have been built for the Final Four, but in other arenas, his stamina is unparalleled: he is father to, as he puts it, “six total kids,” which has many in the office wondering how many partial children he has around his San Francisco home.

Upstate New York: where the roads twist like cold spaghetti dropped from the heavens and the nostrils are perpetually coated with a veneer of airborne farm funk. This is where Allison carved her personal legend with party-saving green tea shots that could cure cancer and mongoose-quick comebacks that slay even the most goliath egos. She’s the hardy sort of snowboarder who came up on the Ice Coast, where the slopes might be better descended with hockey skates than skis or boards. Allison likes to start her day with a plain, dry waffle just because she’s tough as sh*t. She self-identifies as a second-rate soccer player and mediocre golfer, but earned the most massive applause in high school history when she forgot the words to her talent show solo and just laughed like a hyena for 2 minutes straight. When asked to describe Allison, her adoring friends unanimously agree: "Often misses the chair when sitting down."

Shaun is a diehard fan of the best (Denver Bronco’s) and worst (Alabama) teams in football. The father of five kids (ranging from learning to read to learning to drive) is an avid procreator, fisherman and craft beer connoisseur. Sneaking a round of golf in when he can is one of his favorite pastimes. His second home is the little league field where he’s typically found shouting lines from The Bad News Bears to young, impressionable children. As an Army brat, he popped out in Omaha but lived in 7 states before putting down roots in Detroit, go Red Wings!

Morgan likes rocks. She won’t say which type is her favorite (igneous? sedimentary? metamorphic?), so we must assume she loves them all equally. She’s lived in ten US states, probably chasing new and exciting geologic formations, but did most of her growing-up in the Hellgate Trading Post, now known as Missoula, MT. Morgan is the undefeated champion of the Annual Struble Windbreaking Competition (yes, that’s a farting award), which probably pertains to how she can run so fast: she jet-propelled herself to the still-standing Idaho State record in the 300m hurdles and went on to slay D1 dreams in the 400m hurdles at U of Arizona. In between flatulence-fueled victories, she not only majored in Mechanical Engineering but minored in Mining Engineering (told ya: she likes rocks). In her free time, Morgan gets after it camping, hiking, skiing, rafting, fishing, hunting, and eating wasabi with a spoon.

If you’re ever looking for a man who can rebuild your tractor’s engine faster than Forrest Gump can assemble a rifle, all while belting out a tune that could make the Drill Sergeant weep, look no further than this certified ag-diesel mechanic and two-time The Voice auditionee. Born and raised in Northwest Ohio, and perhaps inspired by Ohio’s own Dean Martin or The Isley Brothers (probably not Frankie Yankovic, “America’s Polka King”), Dakota trained for his passion by singing sweet melodies in the cab of a farm truck. Now with his Commercial Driver’s License, his voice is music to the ears of fellow truckers on the airwaves of Citizens’ Band, asking about the best carne asada tacos on the road. When Dakota isn’t driving all night, hands wet on the wheel, our 18-wheel wildman loves teaching his three kids the finer points of motorcycle engine maintenance.

Denis, or D-Nice as the youngins call him, is a former freestyle mogul skier who figured out a way to ski full-time while earning an Economics degree from the U. of Washington, though it did take more than 4 years (kinda like the time it took him not one, not two, but seven attempts to fix a flat during the Seattle to Portland bike ride). When the real world finally came calling, he had a choice: to beer or not to beer. So he set his sights on corporate America and built a 27.5-year career with, what is today, MillerCoors. The corporate battlefield led to tours of duty in Fargo, Des Moines, and St. Louis, before returning him to the friendly confines of the Northwest. He spends much of his downtime pestering his daughter, who followed in dear old dad’s footsteps to U.W., for tickets to Huskies sporting events where his wife, Joann, reluctantly spots him for the occasional keg stand.

Self identifying as “drive it like you rented it”, or more appropriately, “drive it like you stole it”, Brian can fashion you a Mad Max battle winning rig from a washing machine, Ford Fiesta, bailing wire, and stick of chewing gum. He’s an OG from the beginning of the CargoGlide who has developed and fabricated literally everything that is great about the product line today. With more tattoos than Hell’s Angels starter gang, he’s been known to quote Marx and Stalin between expletives at an Olive Garden all you can eat bread sticks night. Want to get married on rented swamp land in Scotland? Hit him up, he’s an ordained minister and literal Lord as an owner of 10 square feet in the motherland. Oh yea, his wife, Randi, knows more about CG than him.

Jens, DECKED’s BVOC (Big Viking on Campus), got his start in engineering by helping design and build a flying gokart, which according to sources, did not fly so much as it did bounce. Undeterred he picked up a stint on Montana State’s lumberjack team where he made it all four years without losing a single appendage. But the highlight of his career up until coming to DECKED was giving bad directions to the CEO of Google. Jens is an avid stinky beer drinker and enjoyer of all things enjoyable including the cinematic masterpiece which is “Napoleon Dynamite”.

Liz is another long time Idaho local, aside from her ‘college girl’ years at the university of Arizona. Go Wildcats! She likes Mexican food, working out, camping and taking care of her baby boy Canaan and her other son (a French bulldog named Tuk). Sure, she comes off sweet and delightful on the phone, but DO NOT CROSS LIZ. Put it this way, she’s not someone you’d want to meet in a dark alley. As a bonafide member of Raider Nation, when not painting her face silver and black during game day, you can find her cuddling by the fire with a glass of rose because a wise woman once said, “The most expensive part of having kids is all the wine you have to drink.”

When the Padres are on and you’re looking for Rory, stop looking. Start smelling. This San Diego native is no doubt in his finest brown and gold attire, at the helm of a grill setup that cost more than his house, smoking and searing up a smorgasbord of meat-treats emanating a cloud of olfactory bliss detectable three states away (five for a bear). Rory’s ethos follows his self-created Doctrine of the Three F’s: Fishing, Family, and Barbecue. (Unfortunately, he never fully learned to spell.) He’s caught fish in 24 states and has 37 left to go. (Unfortunately, he never fully learned to count, either.) He’s got a high score of 297 tri-tips cooked in a single year, a family he just can’t get enough of (including the dog, of course), and a collection of Hawaiian shirts so massive it could sink an outrigger canoe.

Frank the Fifth. A man from and of Defiance, OH, more firmly rooted than a cactus in a mudslide. Before DECKED? Let’s see: constructing fortifications, building bridges, clearing obstacles, detecting mines, and building defensive barriers as a US Army Combat Engineer. NBD. Clearly not one to let anything stand in his (or anyone’s) path, he cut his teeth on the line as a production worker and in short order busted down the door (literally, but it’s cool—he fixed it) and joined the engineering team. When he's not crafting the cure for truck-bed-blues, Frank can be found engaging in his truest passions: outsmarting largemouth bass, breathing life back into his venerable 1985 F250, avoiding large bodies of water (y’know, sharks), or at the shooting range pinging metal targets with steely precision to the sounds of Paleface Swiss’ absolute banger “Best Before: Death.”

Seattle-born, Philly-forged (go Birds!), and Seattle (again?) educated, Claire is the proud owner of an oddly-proportioned Great Pyrenees whose tags say “Tucker” and a UW degree that says “Industrial & Systems Engineering.” But while the dog is an office fixture, that diploma is nowhere to be found; rather, she proudly displays her cornhole tourney participation trophy next to the complete DVD boxed set of Hell’s Kitchen and a Gordon Ramsay bobblehead. She’s a B-league hockey savage who’s hiking the full length of Idaho in bite-sized pieces and loves to complain about people who complain. Despite winning various “most-improved” awards, there is something she’s best at: beating up on the boys. From dominating a USNA Midshipman on the squash court while on the UW Men’s Squash Team (that’s right) to regularly shooting bigger and better birds and elk than her fiancé (who’s been hunting for, oh, about three decades longer)—Claire ain’t afraid to stick it to the men.

Here at DECKED, we’re proud to have the computer version of Bobby Fischer on our team. Sun Valley, ID, native Oliver is the only man we know of who plugs in a USB right-side-up on the first try. Every. Single. Time. After securing half the town of Ketchum's interwebs while still in high school to solidify his “prodigy” status, he went on to graduate summa cum laude (of course) from Boise State with a BBA in IT Management (of course). With multiple photo contest wins under his belt from the likes of Nat Geo and Smithsonian Magazine, to say Oliver dabbles in photography would be like saying Dale Earnhardt dabbled in automotive racing. With what little time he has left after dominating most things he does, Oliver enjoys skiing (since the age of 2), backpacking, overlanding (backpacking with way more stuff), and those plug-in types of vehicle that don’t go vroom.

Some athletes go to high altitude to train. Brian prepared for trail running and ski touring the lung-crushing peaks of Idaho by climbing the soul-crushing corporate ladder of Wall Street and becoming a world class Excel champion. A 2-time finisher of the Leadville MTB 100, he loves any activity that feels to most of us like hitting yourself in the junk with a hammer: it feels good when you stop. The Chicago native was his mom’s top draft pick for the White Sox after pitching a shut-out in Little League, and after batting 1000 in his professional life, his only failure was attempting to live the ski bum life: he lasted a year before he came crawling to DECKED for a cushy office chair. Somehow, Brian still logs 100+ days on the hill each winter, though some believe he counts a backcountry day as two. His in-house forecasting and accounting is more accurate, keeping our spreadsheets tighter than a [redacted by mgmt].

Not much can rattle the 2005 Swanton Snow Princess, but one thing that gets her blood pressure spiking is her husband’s clock radio blasting her awake at 4am on a hunting day. Even he can’t explain why the DJ is always playing “Never Gonna Give You Up” at that time, but Taylor suspects a larger conspiracy. Taylor’s Ohio roots run deeper than a Cuvier’s beaked whale can dive (Google it). Born and raised in Swanton, she snagged her degree at University of Toledo and now flaunts a bedazzled clipboard as the Parade Director for the Swanton Corn Festival where she’s known to some as “The Kernel.” She’d brave the depths of the darkest corn maze to get her hands on a strawberry margarita, but you’re more likely to find her kicked back on the banks of the Maumee, grateful that she’s at least one day away from the next spreadsheet and a few months away from her car breaking down in the snow again.

Jen is one of the top .05% Taylor Swift listeners on Spotify which, according to her, is the only accollade she has ever received. A born and bred Texan, Jen went to the U of Arkansas where she became a loyal Hog and jogged her way around campus, the only training she has ever done for the 5 marathons she's completed. Rife with phobias (snakes, spiders, bad office lighting, noise cancelling headphones), this college varsity volleyball player is an energetic bundle of Gen Z exuberance who lives by "bump-set-spike" in a format she calls "shop-click-buy" as our performance ads zen guru. A massive pickleball athlete with so much potential, we're still waiting for her to bring home the coveted DECKED Annual Pickleball Tourney crown. Don't worry, Jen: if you don't bring home that title, we know you can shake it off and tell everyone, "Look what you made me do."

You know why Idaho Falls sucks now? Because Gary left and moved to Utah. (Just kidding, I.F., we love you.) Why Utah? No one knows for sure. But scholars suggest he’s staying inland to avoid his nemesis: fish, shellfish, and other edible organisms of oceanic origin. Gary is a classic family-man who can’t get enough of his tribe, though he’s mildly irked that they still won’t invite him to bowling night. But if you could see his grip and swing, you’d understand why they don’t give this lifelong Lord of the Lanes even a gnat’s hair of a chance to plaster the scoreboard with strikes. A true believer of the good ol’ casino adage, “The house always wins,” Gary loves to buy and collect old slot machines. Which gives him the perfect opportunity to exact his revenge on family game night.

Ah, Pepe, AKA the Penny Pincher in El Paso, AKA John Cowan, is our run-it-loose-spend-to-the-moon CFO who loves nothing more than perusing an unformatted spreadsheet during a glorious sunset over the Rio Grande. Cowan attended a couple of mediocre institutions of higher learning, earning his undergrad at Harvard and MBA at Stanford (yawn). The pitmaster of mean steaks at backyard bar-b-q's, you'd be surprised to know that a guy you would expect to be a soft-skinned keyboard jockey is actually a rough and ready rancher who grew up crooning to cattle from his saddle in the southwest Texas scrub lands. He lives for any opportunity to take the wind out of a large, fair-game ungulate or put the steel to anything with fins. In addition, John is an expert tinkerer of sprinkler systems who knows how to distill liquor and, being the youngest in a family with some 19 or so sisters, can speak the delicate, complicated language of women.

With a solid fear of tornados and swimming naked over deep water (bathophobia), Steve is not afraid of the wind or drawing a hot bath on a cold night. Born and bred in Defiance, OH he’s got a penchant for Chevy Nova’s, operating heavy equipment, a buttery chardonnay, as well as crappie fishing (the only guy we know who doesn’t like good fishing). A enginerd to the core, but still quite fond of the living world, Steve has managed a piranha breeding business as well as probed the depths of human reasoning. If he’s not hacking iron or polishing his 200m dash gold medal from high school you can find him trying to fix something that broke.

Running from the blinding agony of devoted Vikings fandom, this Minnesota native leapfrogged between tree stands and duck blinds, westward to Idaho, bagging a degree from U. of North Dakota and a disturbing number of duck decoys along the way. Dylan once coaxed a 20-pound walleye into his bare hands with nothing but a cold beer and his best rendition of Eric Church, and later reeled in the love of his life much the same way. Married since 2021, the two are now raising their first child who will, no doubt, be able to field dress an elk while still in diapers. Next time you’re on DECKED.com live chat, be sure to say, “Hola,” to Dylan. He doesn’t speak Spanish, we just think it’s hilarious his last name is Gonzalez yet he couldn’t get a glass of agua from a Tijuana bartender even if his beard was en fuego.

DECKED’s one and only Dorothy, Randi grew up on the windswept plains of Oklahoma brainwashed into believing the Sooners would one day win the BCS. She earned her fanhood of adrenaline shortly after clicking her heels and ending up in St. George, UT married to a man who definitely does not drive the speed limit and likes the sensation of getting all four wheels off the ground. She lists rude people as her one and only pet peeve so chew all you want with your mouth open around her. A huge fan of the great outdoors and water sports, she’s a family girl to the core.

Greg Randolph was born a cross eyed, flat footed, asthmatic with a fear of heights, deep water, wide open spaces and small dogs. When he is not working on developing new physical ailments or phobias he enjoys pretending to listen to his four daughters and seeking out quiet, estrogen-free pockets around his property. Punching way above his weight, his wife is the cause of much conversation when they enter the room which typically goes, “What on earth does she see in him?” Greg rides bikes, skis, fishes, hunts, and reportedly has hand-eye coordination on par with a one-armed, one-eyed, drunk Labrador.

Local legend holds that Adam swam the 30 miles upstream from his Liberty Center, OH, hometown to relocate to Defiance, surviving by chomping down walleye and flathead catfish like an aquatic “Pac-Man” (a nickname he goes by to this day). Adam’s basically a living Luke Bryan song: if he could make a living “huntin’, fishin’, and lovin’ every day,” well, you can bet there’d be an Adam-shaped hole in the wall of our molding facility and a 2-stroke dirt cloud that’d make the Dust Bowl look like a mouse-fart on a sawmill floor. In his free time, you can find him with his wife Danielle, their baby boy, and two Labs at a family bonfire, staring out at the cornfields and enjoying his own Field of Dreams moment as the Cleveland Browns return from the land of the dead like “Shoeless” Joe Jackson.

The first time Bryan ever stepped on an airplane was to work at DECKED. Now his hobbies include base jumping, speed flying and the two man bobsled. To say Bryan knows injection molding and quality control would belike saying that some cars in Ohio have a little rust. Bryan’s combined 20 years as Quality Manager has entitled him with the right to say WTF whenever the "F" he wants. He’s a rabid Ohio State football fan and recently re-bandwagoned Cleveland Browns fan. He’s got two kids of his own (that he knows of) and a few step kids with his wife Joan Brady. He’s a coach of kids sports and a river boat captain on the SS Minnow of the Maumee.

Dave is a man of contrasts: “kids” appears in both his list of likes and dislikes (pretty understandable, really); he appreciates flowers and farts in equal measure (which, to us, suggests a dysfunctional olfactory center); and maintains a suspiciously high body density in the 99th percentile (allegedly). He may not be able to smell or float, but he once placed 7th in the 2017 Ketchum Wide Open putt-putt showdown and considers securing a significant other before age 40 one of his proudest accomplishments. Born in Yorktown, VA, with some proper book-learnin’ at UVA (wahoowa), Dave swapped Southern comfort for the mountains of Idaho and spends most of his time skiing, fishing, camping, and pretending he might’ve gone pro in baseball—if only he’d signed up for Little League. He occasionally takes math classes for fun, but balances that out with just enough beer to stay relatable.

Lena took the long way to Idaho. Born and raised in Nebraska, she lived in North Carolina, South Carolina, Colorado, and detoured for grad school in Rouen, France, where her Naked Gun and Anchorman-inspired humor may have been the greatest diplomatic bridge of our time. She’s an outdoors junkie whose zest would make a caffeinated raccoon dizzy: She runs, hikes, camps, snowboards, and wins volleyball games fueled entirely by Sour Patch Kids and tacos. When told she shouldn’t eat Mexican food for every meal, she adeptly replies, “Why not? They do in Mexico.” Lena is possessed of an almost pathologic requirement to regularly attend live music events and has been the steward of two cats with seven legs between them: Norma (standard issue) and Nelson (Cat Lite™, RIP sweet boy). With a clear “fewer-legs-is-better” approach to life, it’s no surprise she’s terrified of spiders and crabs.

Taylor keeps the Idaho Vandal pride strong at DECKED, and as a native of the potato state, she doesn’t leave a lot on the table when it’s time to get after it. Aside from a strong attraction to sake bombs and comfy sweatpants, she’s kind of a hard core outdoorsy sorta gal. When she’s not mountain biking, backcountry snow sliding, or dancing through the mountain tulips in her yoga pants, you can find her celebrating her favorite holiday, March Madness (one day she might even crack the top 10 in the DECKED MM poll). A bean counter at heart, Taylor’s Stockholm Syndrome is very acute wherein she spent 5 years at KPMG and still loves a good audit.

A died in the wool vegan-a-tarian, the last time Taylor ate meat was on a bet wherein she ate 10 brown drake mayflies winning the chance to cut her fiance’s mullet. Born and raised in Ketchum it’s no surprise that her animal skills include raising 4 Nigerian dwarf goats and believing she can communicate with her black lab, Maude. We hired Taylor because though she didn’t know her ass from her elbow when it came to digital marketing, she really loved Excel and numbers which was all we were looking for. Her education makes you understand why she loves coming to work at DECKED with degrees in Spanish/bus/human physiology from U of O and a masters in health administration from University of Washington. Her list of likes include among other things: red wine, garbanzo beans and crossfit.

Peggy “Hoops” Wolf likes long walks on the beach of Ohio, cruising with the top down on her Jeep, a cold beer and kicking it on the porch with Clint Black on the radio. She’s born and bred Ohioan who put up 1,000 points and 1,000 rebounds as a high schooler at Patrick Henry HS. They call her hoops for a reason, and it’s not for her flair with 80’s ear jewelry. One interesting factoid is that Hoops likes chili, a lot. But she hate’s beans so she picks out every one, which combines with a burning passion for gambling, specifically slots and KINO. She attended THE Defiance College and earned a degree in Business, Bean Counting and Sports Management.

As the only guy at DECKED who played professional football on a flag football team, Calvin brings a wealth of unexpected diversity to the brand. He likes hunting, snowmobiling, dirt biking, beer, whiskey, cigarette boats, Motley Crue, chicks, Nickelback, and Hank Williams Junior. What does he not like? Wine, cities, social functions, hair product, the ballet/opera/symphony, and Nickleback haters. Astounding, eh? But seriously, Calvin has literally crashed every form of vehicle know to ‘Mericans and is a prodigious runner-up finisher in all kinds of motorcycle events. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Want to talk suspension, rebound, dampening, seals? Bring an airhorn: he oversaw suspension development for the Ford Ranger Raptor and Toyota Tacoma TRD Pro at Fox and has a few patents bearing his name, including but not limited to dice-with-skulls valve stem caps.

Thanks to Will, those of us at DECKED HQ have seen our body mass index shoot up an average of 27%: his side gig is baking and selling cheesecakes so tasty they could make a hunger-striking fanatic chow down. Born in Duluth, GA, and raised in Cumming (not a typo, he insists), Will moved to Idaho “for the winter” and woke up ten years later with a degree in High Alpine Shenanigans and an award for Ketchum’s Best Bartender as voted by a jury of one: himself. Going by William amongst local high-snob-iety, but known as Will to us plebeians and BOTW (Billy on the Weekend) to those who stay out past 10pm, this self-taught snowboarding savant spends the warmer months blasting golfballs, flying over the handlebars of his mountain bike, sleeping during the day, and campaigning for legislation to outlaw pickles in all 50 states.

Tami is more wholesome than a street-corner lemonade stand and more easy-going than a lazy river. Breathed into existence by Mojave winds and built tough by Sonoran sands, she’s the salt of the earth who loves family time and the quiet of “just being” out in nature—unless there’s a zipline, in which case you’ll witness a full-grown adult running around like a kid, screaming, “One more time!” Having migrated from Phoenix to Vegas to SW Utah, she’s happiest out in the desert, camping, shooting, and cruising in the side-by-side. When she’s had her fill of four wheels, you might find her out cruising the Seven Seas with a calm demeanor and “get ‘er done” attitude that make Tami the one you want in your corner when the cruise director is eyeballing you for having tee many martoonis.

The Thunda from Down Unda might be an all male review dancer for all we know, but with an Engineering degree from Youtube University and a black belt in dark ninja skills, Aaron is the living breathing version of an Australian renaissance redneck. Growing up on a cattle farm nurtured his love for both country and western music, which logically led him to a role wherein he successfully delivered the crew-transportation vehicles for the NASA Artemis mission (though reports indicate the air filtration system had a distinct eau d’feed lot aroma). If it burns gas, he’s in; and if it’s a concrete urban landscape, he’s out.

If you’re ever at DECKED Ohio and see a guy wearing baseball pants to work, you’ve found Justin. As a busy dad to two young whippersnappers, he’s basically never without a whistle around his neck and clipboard in his paws coaching three sports. He holds Defiance’s baseball pants record with 150 days. An avid outdoorsman, Justin raises his kids to know how to stalk, hunt, and dress out anything that is in season, including the buffet at Buffalo Wild Wings. As his wife of 14 years will tell you, every night is a romantic night unless the Yankees or Buckeyes are on or any particular animal species is in season.

Before he became Production Manager at DECKED Utah, Josh was Chairman of Scaring Kids Onto the Straight and Narrow. This former “transport agent” was a member of a two-man, big-scary-guy crew charged with relocating young’uns on the edge to a special school—and if you move too slowly in the grocery store, he might just break out the ol’ ski mask and black turtleneck and arrange a drop-off for you, too. This Henderson-raised former Vegas resident defies Sin City stereotype by refusing to gamble or grab a lunch of steak and thighs. Being the oldest of ten, he knows a thing or two about chaos: his dad, brothers and himself met Ron White at a meet-and-greet and were summarily booted out the door by Ron himself. (Do those Petersons know how to party, or what?) In his spare time, Josh enjoys dominating every hex of Catan, getting lost in the high lonesome, singin’ along to “Mamma Mia,” and forcing his four girls and two boys to watch every Chuck Norris flick ever made.

With a menagerie weighing in at three dogs and five cows (plus one in the freezer), and a record of 10 years in 4-H club, fighting for Team Jacob (see: Twilight): the undisputed 2008 Miss Edon and 2008 Williams County Beef Queen, Sarah Mangas! Sarah is the type of person who will laugh right in front of you if she catches you operating a 2-wheel-drive truck and would spend more money on her wedding-day boots than the dress (not would, but did). She boasts a degree in Biomedical Engineering, so yes, she could replace your shoulder with a shiny new bionic one, but she’s not licensed to knock you out so you’d have to do it Civil War style with a wooden spoon between your teeth. But you won’t get any sympathy from this badass woman: she delivered both of her children completely unmedicated. When Sarah dreams, she dreams of riding a fluffy cow across fields of green, with saddlebags full of chocolate, colored pens, and high-end sticky notes.

Another one of DECKED’s numerous anomalies, Avery spent some time as a merchandising manager for a chic fashion company before deciding trucks was more her gig. As a college graduate from U of New Hampshire, it was literally live free or die when she told her folks about her career path choice. She’s married to a man named Zach who is reportedly excellent on the bassoon, has a lovely daughter Madeline, and a dog named Blue. The four of them allegedly spent the last 6 months binge watching the entire Keeping Up with the Kardashians thing.

Not your classic soccer mom with a mini van, Bridget, aside from LOVING minivans, has let the air out of more large game than 90% of our ambassador team. After growing up in a John Hughes movie in Chicago, Bridget ventured far afield to Indiana for her college learnin’, served a brief stint in Pittsburgh getting her Masters of Beer Appreciation with a Minor in Buzz Management, and then packed her bivy and headed straight to the mountains of Idaho. With two kids and two dogs in tow most of the time, her poor husband Joe has a special arrangement with the local animal shelter which prevents her from bringing more dogs home - unless provided evidence that one of them has wandered off permanently. If you ever have the hankering for some venison or elk meat, make friends with Bridget because, odds are, her freezer is stocked with the good stuff and she is not afraid to share.

Straight outta Austin, it goes without saying that Arturo fancies himself a BBQ pitmaster. But the proof is in the pudding, and thus far no one at DECKED has sampled his gooey creations, so the jury is out on that one. As a child, Arturo fantasized that he was a woodpecker and managed to bang his head into every stationary object in Travis County. His likes are obvious (and probably listed as part of a pre-pre-nup): his dog, his girlfriend, and cuddling on the couch watching chick flicks with his girlfriend. Yawn. Arturo has both arachnophobia and crocodilephobia which affects his ability to camp comfortably when he is traveling in the Amazon, which he still manages to do with enthusiasm. He taught himself how to snowboard, which is really saying something coming from Texas, especially considering he claims to be concussion free since the age of 15. We may need to review medical records before putting this to print, but we'll let it slide for now.

Tim grew up on the mean streets of Brentwood, CA. When not trying to "learn" to surf, he was grooving on the snowy winter slopes. After a small stint getting locked up abroad (have you seen the show?) Tim made his way back to Ketchum where he now truly appreciates the peace and quiet of living in a small town. When not spending time outdoors on foot, by bike or on skis he aspires to be a rock and roll hero and sites his main influences as Spinal Tap and the jazz flute stylings of Ron Burgundy. His motto? "Stay classy and turn it up to eleven!"

Forget the résumè; Dawson introduced himself to the DECKED family with a Christmas-party dance floor demolition, punctuated by detonating a backflip that’d make a gymnast hang up their unitard. Hailing from Loomis, CA, with a population slightly less than his lifetime Coors Light count, Dawson is a Cal Poly grad with much more going on than busting sick moves. Perhaps owing to his days as a decorated intramural referee, this former Mr. Alpha Phi (whatever that means) possesses a steely sense of justice that he extends to champion every DECKED customer like a turbo-charged V8 Judge Judy. Wanna know his secret to endless caloric fuel for skiing, dirt-biking, and wake-surfing all over the hills and lakes of Idaho? Simple: down an entire pack of chocolate chip cookies daily. And if you wanna watch Dawson live his worst nightmare, turn off the football game during an airport layover while serving him anything with tomatoes.

If you connect every shoe and hat in Jermaine’s collections end-to-end, they would wrap around the globe 1.07 times. And then Jermaine would use them as a trans-oceanic bridge to continue racking up more passport stamps than an influencer’s phone has selfies. Mississippi born and raised, he’s not keen on Utah’s sweltering summer temps which has us wondering if Jermaine is the one man on earth who actually prefers humidity so thick it feels like you could swim laps midair. He has no love for a slow driver, but that’s only because he spied a bumper sticker that read, “My other car is a horse,” and started daydreaming about galloping across the plains, wind whipping his face. It won’t take long to learn that his proudest moment was becoming a father, and there is little doubt that the first advice he’ll pass on is to rarely trust a skinny chef.

A true son of Mesquite, NV, Christopher Boyce emerged from the Virgin Valley school system with big dreams and a broken growth plate in his wrist, courtesy of a car accident at age 12. And you can tell which arm by noticing which one he doesn’t use to reach the top shelf. The rest of the time, Christopher never comes up short, ensuring everything headed out the doors of DECKED Utah moves as smoothly as an '80s power ballad—the likes of which he’s constantly playing on the warehouse speaker (and yes he will arm-wrestle you into submission if you try to play rap or country). He's a passport-stamping wildman whose international palate is happiest in Bangkok, Oaxaca, or Shanghai, likely trying to locate the world's most obscure back-alley street-food stand. He claims to have first gotten behind the wheel at age five, and with that level of experience, he will judge you harshly if you conduct your vehicle like you’re the only one on the road. Seriously. He's watching.

The top ranked Ohioan in marrying loves of your life and watching babies grow and paint dry, AJ is one hell of a nice guy. So nice, in fact, he won consecutive sportsmanship awards in high school in both wrestling and cross country. He brings this same nice guy approach to his work, where, much like in high school when he'd choke dudes out and tear their legs off with a handshake and a smile, he presses on the necks of his crew with a kind, gentle pressure that slowly turns your face purple while somehow motivating you to work harder. He loves slowpitch softball because, well, you can do it with a beer in your hand while combing the outfield for your favorite form of reptile, the snake. What’s weirder than a pet snake? Loving the sound that styrofoam makes. Which is the detail that really makes us wonder what makes AJ tick.

Peter is another DECKED anomaly who puts up solid results across a variety of arenas. Except if that arena is Tinder where he bats a worrisome 60% on pickup lines and has actually set the app’s national benchmark for the most time (2 weeks) in southern California without a match. Aside from fast cars, slow women, tasteful trucks, and stealing Strava segments from local bro’s, Peter can perform flawless CPR on nearly any type of household pet. With a right leg which is longer than his left, nothing gets his giddy up going more than seeing hard work pay off.

Jesse once caught a runaway chicken. We could stop there and he’d still be a legend. He’s the sort of “give me steak or give me death” kinda dude who’d rather give up video games than ever taste tofu again. (This is a lie. Video games are his lifeblood and he would sooner sell one of his children.) One thing we love about Jesse is that he truly appreciates a proper insult as the compliment it was meant to be. That, and the fact that he’s the only person we’ve ever heard of who two-wheel-drifted a forklift down a gravel drive and lived. What does Jesse love about us? Hell, we aren’t even sure we’re in the 10% of humanity he even likes. A lifted truck is just fine by Jesse, but if you want his stamp of approval, you better drive it like you mean it and not delicately tip-toe over speed bumps at 5mph. Also he has weird thumbs and would love to show you.

You’d think that a gal who relocated from temperate Mill Valley, CA, to the frigid high-latitudes of Idaho must be into skiing, snowmobiling, bobsledding, or, well, anything involving ice or snow. But no. Kelsey lives for summer, so after hibernating all winter (occasionally braving a frosty evening for a Suns hockey game), she’s spending any day above 60º on the river or stringing up her hammock lakeside to rock in the breeze. Kelsey’s optimism and zest gets us feeling a bit poetic, so here are a few other things you should know about our favorite white-jeans-hating, Southern Oregon U criminal-justice-majoring, former line cook and water polo player in a limerick: She loves camping all over the land / Sriracha and a Hamm’s in her hand / Watch horror films with a smile / Go hike for a while / And get tanner than what she had planned.

Most desk jockeys might like to break the chains and hit the gym. Not Cyrus: he's allergic to kettle bells, dumbbell curls, and fitness bros. Besides, he’s training 40 hours a week parked in a swivel chair, a skill he developed in pursuit of his greatest athletic achievement sitting squarely on his rump as coxswain of a 3-time Virginia State Crew Champion 8-man oar boat. He’d tell you he’s an enthusiastically mediocre hiker and mountain biker, but being raised on the banks of Chesapeake Bay and bloodkin to the 2nd largest sturgeon ever hauled from its waters makes him right at home these days kayaking the whitewater of Idaho. A man named “Cyrus Jett” sounds like a he might be a rock star or secret agent. We can’t definitively say he isn’t either of those, but it turns out he’s named after a dog, which, around the DECKED offices, is akin to being knighted.

Constantly balanced between jolly exuberance and giving over to the unique madness only amateur philosophy can induce, Dan enjoys a cup of black coffee with a bear claw. A mishap involving a lawnmower and 17 hardboiled eggs led to an injury which, in turn, led him from aspirations of gridiron glory to a BM in Music Composition from UMass Amherst, and from the weight room to the lap pool for his daily dose of swole-ness. Now the fastest swimmer and closest Jason Momoa lookalike at DECKED, his nickname AquaDan is emblazoned on a movie poster adorning his office wall. He’s partied with Willie Nelson, toured the US as a circus-punk bassist, and dislikes hangnails and bad poetry as much as he loves woodworking and being covered in dirt. On the weekends, this piano pundit can be found in head-to-toe denim, neatly folding origami while his beef stew braises, or humming doom metal while breaking 2x4's with his bare hands.

The only thing Chuck’s done longer than Quality Control is play golf. And while he blames work for the silver hairs adorning his dome, we suspect it’s his golf game: ever a man of the numbers, he’s quick to note that the incredibly unlikely odds of his 2-on-a-par-5 Albatross (6 million to one) don’t soften the blow of a hole-in-one (12,500 to one) having eluded him. The only thing he loves more than a day spent wandering around a well-manicured meadow with a bag of blunt instruments is his family. Married for 37 years (still not as long as he’s been moseying about carefully coiffed fields with a cart of expensive sticks), the Defiance, OH, lifer and his wife Liz are proud parents to two boys, and grandparents to identical twin girls. All of whom, he insists, love that his alarm clock plays George Strait’s “Amarillo by Morning.” At full volume. Every day. At 5am.

Margo is a DECKED O.G., the Queen of Quality, the Product Pundit, the Gear Guru. If we have a product question, and Margo can’t answer it, there is no answer. Raised in the DC area (politicians not comics), Margo readily admits she hates Maryland crab but loves potatoes, so she moved to Idaho. Well, actually, Margo followed a man to Idaho just after college, whom she married and has been with ever since despite the many life-threatening situations he’s put her through. Like hiking on cliffs claiming it was a “shortcut,” dumping her into a waterfall from a poorly rigged cataraft and then rowing over her, and introducing her to skiing by saying, “Just go like this,” and then abandoning her at the top of Sun Valley’s Bald Mountain. Margo has since become a pro in all of these activities and adopted the “baptism by fire” style to teach her son to keep up!

Chris was a fat baby. Had he been born after Ghostbusters premiered, his parents may have nicknamed him “Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.” But in 1983, his closest edible likeness was a potato, so he became “Spudman.” Rumored to have remained the same weight since birth, Chris’s low wind-resistance led him to D1 Cross Country Nationals while at Auburn (War Eagle!). After college, he briefly slowed to a walk for a stint on the runway in NYC, then moved to San Diego and, in an act of reverse-evolution, transformed from land animal to creature of the sea. After 15 years as an Ocean Lifeguard with San Diego Fire-Rescue, he decided surfing and saving newbs from the briny deep wasn’t as much fun as snowboarding, part-time firefighting, and finally using his degree - to slip way too many movie references into these bios when no one's looking.

Word on the street is Megan makes the meanest brekkie burrito this side of anywhere. She bears the dubious distinction of having been attacked by a paraplegic cat, but has a voluminous bucket hat and fanny pack collection that show she still knows how to party. She’s from California, but we don’t hold it against her because she’s from Gilroy, specifically, the garlic capital of the world, and we wouldn’t want to threaten our insider supply of top-tier smooch-deterrent. This Sonoma State grad may be the only person we know who’s scared of butterflies, but we don’t give her a hard time about it: she played college lacrosse and is reputed to be quite the axe-thrower (and we value our limbs). If you do slip up, however, just take her thrifting, hiking, skiing, or paddleboarding, then get her in her crocs with a plate of french fries and present her with a perfectly-manicured spreadsheet and all will be forgiven. Oh, and don’t mention zoos. Trust us on this one.

Born and raised in the home of the world’s tallest cowboy (Big Tex at 55 feet), here’s Grant: a Dallas native and boldly normal-height cowboy whose pre-DECKED career is also bold, but anything but normal. Going by the nickname “The Fishin' Musician,” he was a traveling-minstrel myth-incarnate who led his band across USO tours in Kuwait, Japan, South Korea, Iraq, and Guam, collecting Commanders’ Coins like rare guitar picks. Not satisfied with embodying only half of his moniker, he then spent a few years coaxing trout from alpine streams and money from customers as a fly-fishing rep. Grant double-majored in Mountain Mischief and Backcountry Nonsense at Fort Lewis College in Durango, the “Hollywood of the Rockies,” and, as if he needed more feathers in his cap, is a scratch golfer who’s supposedly never been stung by a bee.

Our own Ross Bird is the reputed hide-n-seek world champion of 1989 . He was born and bred right here in the Wood River Valley of Idaho and lives by the motto, "bones heal, chicks dig scars, and the USA has the highest doctor-to-daredevil ratio in THE WORLD." At one point, Ross was accused of having a massive crush on some doctor or nurse in the local emergency department: after 7 surgeries, 7 broken bones, a punctured lung, and a ruptured spleen, there’s no way he didn’t have an ulterior motive for repeatedly doing his best (worst?) impression of Evel Knievel. And while that love affair is all speculation, we can confirm his insatiable lust for deep snow and diving into cold high-mountain lakes. Despite a heavy preference for the alpine, he spent 6 months of his twenties livin’ la vida loca in the sand and bathwater ocean temps of Baja, where he gave up on the outlaw life after being robbed by the Federales not once, but twice. Your least favorite snowboarder’s favorite snowboarder found his way home to Idaho after stints in SLC and Oregon and spends his days shredding pow on the mountain and pounding down whack-a-mole egos in the comments section on the social internets.

Born in the Wyoming town where outlaw Butch Cassidy’s butcher apprenticeship earned him the famous nickname, Shiloh took the opposite path in human-animal relations and worked nine years as a vet tech. He sometimes falls back on old habits, so don’t be surprised if you dial up DECKED and he greets you with, “Who’s a good boy/girl?” Shiloh was a high school wrestling champ who still breaks out the singlet, braving chronic back pain in defense of his beloved Raiders. He graduated from Dixie State (which is somehow in Utah and not Alabama), and when he isn’t supporting DECKED dealers better than an undersized pair of tighty-whities, he’s setting a high score for screen time playing Madden or making indie music that would have even the hippest hipster dropping their latte in amazement.

With never enough room to roam, Ciceley was raised in the middle of nowhere. She moved a little further away where she managed to graduate high school, dominate stick and ball sports, and go off to the "big city" for college where she acquired the nickname “Shotgun Peavey." A rabid Idaho Vandal fan (sorry about your football team) she was born on Valentine’s Day, but hates heart shaped chocolates, sweet nothings and sappy love cards. She can make a pizza that will give you a coronary and expound ad nauseam on the virtues of the various notes in an IPA. And yep, she’s a sorority girl.

Born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Leandro swapped steamy tango nights for sweltering desert dust when he saddled up a Chacoan Peccary northbound for St. George, UT. An absolute goal-machine, he embodied his pick for fútbol GOAT, Messi, as his high school soccer team’s top scorer. Leandro is the gamer-sphere’s finest mid-tier sniper and co-host of Tuesday Night Gaming Wit da Boiis: a weekly summit of laughs, lag, and low-key roasts. In the wild, you can spot him chasing his daughter around K-pop concerts, or building a barely-manageable Pokémon-card empire. He snagged certificates in Manufacturing & Industrial Operations Management from Dixie State and possesses a heavy bent toward sad-and-loud emo music, though with non-functioning left tear ducts, he’s only 50% emo — and king of the dramatic single tear.

Syd Hafer was born and raised in Idaho and has callouses on her hands from reeling in fat ol' trout to prove it. If you have trouble breathing, want to know the standings and odds of any basketball bracket, or need a trivia answers to anything related to The Office, Syd's your girl. She has put her BS in Respiratory Therapy to good use at DECKED: keeping customers calm and her co-workers calmer. Syd's a master of satire and sarcasm, an accomplished cat whisperer, and will hands-down smoke you in any ball sport (yes, even cricket). In her spare time, Syd can be found baking dinosaur-shaped cookies, taking your money in card games, or teaching her daughter Brennyn how to count those cards.

Born and raised among the idyllic mountain scenes of Hailey, Idaho, Hanna’s life would appear to be something out of The Sound of Music - without all the annoying kids. If she were to burst into song, it’d certainly be a Cybertruck diss track belted out from her skis as she airs over you with an espresso martini in one hand and an ahi taco in the other. This former semi-pro halfpipe skier keeps her edges sharper than a knife in a tuxedo, and has bagged top-five finishes at Junior Worlds Halfpipe Championships and a win at the USASA Nationals. Her crowning achievement, though, is earning her place in the hallowed halls of local bar lore by dominating digital deer: she’s held the Big Buck Hunter high score three years in a row. Hanna’s got the gift of gab and a social battery that rarely needs charging, but if you really wanna get her going next time you’re on the DECKED hotline, just ask her about sea turtles or Iron Man’s character arc.

Fortuitously gifted with two last names, Bennett Cooper changed his name from Cooper Bennett to escape the law after ripping a guitar solo so hot that it burned the venue to the ground. After miraculously completing his Jazz Performance degree while on the run, he dodged authorities by blending in with a series of wholesome jobs, from elementary school music teacher to ski instructor, before hiding out with our clean-cut CX crew. Born and raised in Idaho, he sports a tattoo that reads MADE IN BOISE (guess where). Bennett loves a homecooked meal and makes a bitchin’ béchamel sauce that turns its nose up at French tradition with his secret ingredient: two tablespoons of Coors Banquet. He’s a pretty chill dude, but he’s possessed by a strong distaste for Jeff Bezos, spiders, heights, and Teslas. Somewhere in there is a psychology PhD's thesis paper.

Like a cypress emerging from the lowland mud of his Louisiana home, Mack is a towering bastion of Southern charm casting a cooling shade on all he meets. Sure, you can take the man out of the swamp - but you can't take the swamp out of the man. And by swamp, we mean a thoroughly-moistened posterior from spending hours in the cockpit of his more-money-in-the-mods overlanding rig. Yes, it sounds like a screaming sasquatch to distant hikers and can somehow handle 70 on dirt roads. Then, just when you thought his organic, fair-trade, high-performance Merino undies might have a chance to dry out: nope. He’s settling down in the saddle of a kayak for another seemingly endless multi-week paddling trip. Mack self-labels as “one with the critters,” so it’s no surprise that, on his most recent backpacking foray, he befriended and hiked alongside a family of three bears because their pace was “just right.”

A critical member of the twin towers here at DECKED’s own basketball powerhouse, the DECKEDheads, McCabe might be the only kid that grew up on O'ahu but still surfs like a rusty C3PO. He's a helicopter sports parent who's no longer allowed within 500 feet of a playground or soccer field due to past infractions yelling insults at coaches, refs, and the mom in charge of orange slices. He’s got two kids, whose sneaker collections are apparently where Andy’s dwindling retirement fund has been spent over the past 5 years, and a wife so sweet you can't help but wonder what-in-the-arranged-marriage delivered him such bounty. His resume reads like a who’s who of cool guy hipster brands up until Stanley decided their core market was soccer moms with unending thirst and a penchant for pastels, which caused him to pack up his markers and crayons and come do the Lord’s work at DECKED.

It’s terrifying to think Oskar has a commercial pilot’s license when you consider that a single slice of bread could bring the whole plane down. This gluten-intolerant psycho-celiac also somehow found time, between Croc-clad living-room workouts and single-entrant slam dunk contest championships, to snag both a degree in finance from Santa Clara University and a Guinness World Record for hours of classes attended from a chairlift. Oskar is the reigning DECKED Pickleball Tourney Champ: at somewhere between 6’4” and 8 feet tall (depending on the height of the person you ask), he’s towered over the competition for two straight years. Judging by his last growth spurt, his former role as “Growth Manager” was clearly outside his skillset, so these days our in-house Sasquatch spends his days turning DECKED dreams into reality. In his spare time, he enjoys skiing like an Olympian, fly fishing like a Zen master, and bow-hunting elk like a 2am bar patron 15 Jäger-bombs deep trying to get a phone number.

Breann’s resume reads like a Tom Clancy novel, but one detail we found interesting was that she wrote an essay for the DARE (Drugs Are Really Expensive) Program at the age of eight, and brought home the grand prize of $50 and a weekly visit from the juvenile probation officer. She graduated high school in three years in her hometown of Grapevine, Texas, and like most Texans never shuts up about Texas. Her main source of entertainment and befuddlement are her 19 dogs, which she brought with her to the small little mountain town in Idaho that she now calls home. And a special call out to potential suitors: Breann has traveled six of the seven continents and will allow special consideration for a trip to the seventh: Antarctica. Another DECKED’er who has an aversion to rude people, you should know that this one actually has a plan for how to dispatch with such. So be polite and chew with your mouth closed.

When Bill’s forefathers entered through Ellis Island, an important part of his heritage was lost-- the family name was erroneously altered from Batman to Banta. He recovered some of his birthright by learning to fly winged craft and serving as social chairman for the Sigma Chi fraternity while earning a master’s in Buzz Management at UVA. Bill has a colored past, consulting on the bulbous aesthetic of the Blue Origin sorta spaceship as well as bringing a camera to every iPhone (yep, the selfie is his fault). When he’s not pontificating on the origin of empty datasets or why men wear neckties (aka ribbons) you can find him sashaying through the hills whistling a merry tune.

As soon as the ink on his driver’s license dried, John moved to the Motor City where he’s lived ever since rocking in the free world on a guitar he built in his garage on a 3D printer. John’s a handy fella who’s never met a chance to dance, dress up, or get formal that didn’t give him hives and a mild form of myocarditis. John’s a regular at the DMV with a paper trail of over 40 titled vehicles and equally as popular at the ER with a rap sheet which includes over 10 broken bones, 2 collapsed lungs and 3 blood clots, which makes sense for a guy who lives to build stuff, break stuff, and fix stuff.

Get this man a firearm and a collection of country music records set up as targets and we can promise you: He. Will. Not. Miss. Other than a distaste for rock-n-roll’s twangy inbred forebear, William is down for whatever’s on the jukebox. He self-identifies as “very particular about some things,” but from the meager info he offered for this bio, it’s clear he’s not too choosy about what we say here. So we’ll just have to tell the story about how, after winning the Welterweight Bareknuckle Boxing Championship in Madrid, he met the woman who would someday become his wife at a bar called El Perro Loco when she started singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” into a churro that the sangria had her genuinely believing was a microphone. El Perro Loco is not a karaoke bar, so William swept in to save her from side-eyes and snickers with a perfectly harmonized, “Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango!” Has William ever been to Spain? Is he even married? Perhaps we'll never know.