Monday, May 25, 2015


Last week was a busy one.
 The first photo is a gigantic kitchen table for a client.
They have a beautiful space, and currently are using an Ikea table as a kitchen table, and to me, that's the equivalent of having a tattoo of Abraham Lincoln on a big beautiful ass.
 The bench that you see, actually doesn't come with the table.
I wanted to see how bench seating would look with this particular style of table, so we grabbed the most fucked up beam we could find and turned it into something useful.
 All the following photos are items that we will be producing for our "coming soon" Etsy shop.
Truth be told, the Etsy shop idea came about when we were discussing our need for a website.
 Neither of us has the time to allocate to building a website, and Etsy would be a great way to introduce us to the world beyond our shop.
 The idea is to make small, affordable, handmade items, that are easy to ship.
In addition to the small regular items, we would offer "one off" designs for sale as well, like the last photo of Zacks blown transmission/squirrel cage lamp.
 One of my personal goals is to offer fast shipping/lead times, which all stem from a situation that I'm currently experiencing.
 Allow me to vent....
I inquired about ordering a fairly expensive handmade item back in March. I had sent a email inquiring about production time and was told 4 to 5 weeks.
 4 to 5 weeks...I was given the opportunity to decide if I was willing to wait that long and I decided that yes...I'm a patient man, I can wait.
 Going on 9 weeks now, which is double the time originally given to me, and nada.
Nobody understands handmade like me. So for someone to play the "it's handmade" card with me is futile. In fact I could go as far as send them photos of everything that I've made by hand in the last 9 weeks.
 That's all neither here nor there though. If I was told from the very start that the lead time was 9 or 10 weeks, I most likely would have still ordered the product.
 I'm one to learn from experience, and I can confirm that my disdain for my current purchase has only benefited future MAKERS customers.
 If we say your shit will be shipped in a can bet your sweet ass that within 7 days you'll be staring at a tracking number in your email box.
 I've learned from my buddy Zack Meyers, who goes as far as to call each and every customer, that you have to go a little bit further.
 We have become a population that are so used to being treated like shit in the market place, that when someone actually does attempt to help us find that Bacon that was on sale, we're taken aback. We tell stories to our friends and family of the amazing service we received. How backwards is that?
 In a day when brick and mortar operations are fighting for survival, and you, as a consumer, have the option to have anything in the world delivered to your porch with a simple "click", you would think retailers would train their people to be...FUCKING NICE.
 You can be as dumb as the Arizona day is long, but if you're at the very fucking least nice...I'd feel satisfied as a customer. Dumb fucks gotta eat too, I get it.
 Isn't it sad that when you go out, you just expect to be treated like a piece of shit? Who came up with that brilliant marketing strategy?
 Recently, I was hungry. I drove past an establishment that had a giant sign that simply stated "HOT DOGS". My stomach informed me that such a place would be ideal to purchase a "HOT DOG".
 I walk inside, wait my turn to place my order, and the wonderful human behind the cash register (which is used for housing my money) greets me with "whatchoowant". "Whatcoowant" enters my brain, and for a brief moment my brain dissects the phrase and for some strange reason, I am able to decipher that though "whatchoowant" isn't actually a word, it's meaning resonates that this person is inquiring, what I would like to purchase.
 Just after she rolls her eyes at me due to my short pause while I was digesting her butchering of the english language, I replied "ya know what I want? I want a fucking hot dog, and fries." to which she replied "you ain't gotta get all nasty..."
 She was right. I didn't have to "get all nasty". What I should have done is walked right out with zero exchange and rolled over to one of the other zillion hot dog stands in Chicago until someone would simply say "may I help you?"

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