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Tag: rundles wrap up

Craftsmanship in a Disposable World: The Decline of Repair Culture

My wife has a very nice ski jacket that we got for her birthday a couple of years ago, and last winter the zipper broke. I suggested we just take it to a tailor and have it repaired. However, we soon discovered that (a), there aren’t that many tailors around anymore, and (b) the one tailor we did find can’t repair the fancy zipper on this (relatively) expensive jacket.  

This incident got me thinking about other professions/trades that are waning in our world, and how sad that is. For instance, I have a few wristwatches that from time to time need new batteries or a cleaning, and sometimes even a repair, and the watch repair man I take them to is nearly 80 years old. When he goes, I’ll have to go digital, I guess, because watch repair isn’t high on the list of desirable trades these days.  

And over the years I have taken my shoes to a shoe repair shop to have the leather conditioned, or the soles and heels redone, but my long-time cobbler has either passed on or retired and it’s difficult to find such a shop anymore. I once even took my baseball glove to my guy for repair, but I guess now I’ll just have to buy a new mitt. Also, I guess, I’ll have to buy new shoes.  

Like the unrepairable zipper because of the lack of expert tailors, and the unfixable timepiece because of a dearth of watch and clock repairmen, the elimination of cobblers in our midst is just another sign that we don’t value craftsmanship anymore. We’d rather replace than repair. Funny, but I also observe that many of these new products — zippered garments, shoes and wristwatches, of course, but tons of other things as well — aren’t worth repairing in any case because the quality has slipped. We had higher standards when we were repair-centric; when everything is very simply trashed and replaceable, none of it is all that valuable. 

And that’s a shame.  

In considering this, I looked around my house and I have all of the usual things — couches, chairs, tables, beds, etc. — but most of it, while purchased at “better stores,” as it were, is simply expendable if it wears out. The exceptions are the few pieces I have purchased in my life or inherited from my exquisite-taste mother that are antiques: They are valuable and were made by craftspeople who cared enough for the quality of their work that they signed their pieces. Oh sure, it is possible to find cabinet makers and craftspeople who make cabinets, tables, chairs and such, but these people are few and far between. It also occurs to me that people used to re-upholster chairs and sofas quite often, but this too is now a craftspeople-skilled trade expertise sadly in short supply. 

There was a cartoon in The New Yorker years ago that had an older man in an apron standing in front of a hardware store talking with a younger man in a business suit holding a briefcase. The younger man says, “Sorry, Dad, but I’m into software.”  This cartoon comes to mind for me often, as it speaks to the idea that we don’t pass along skills and expertise anymore; that we’ve become a throw-away society and economy.  

Some of this is good, no doubt: The speed of change does, in very many instances, breed innovation, entrepreneurial zeal and advancement in many vital areas. But we also lose something in the process: a sense of connection to our past that innately devalues what we have today. We have a lot of whiz-bang technology, of course, but almost all of it will be obsolete in a matter of months, replaced by the next best thing.  

There must be a way to innovate and advance without losing the value in skills honed for centuries. Can’t I have wizardly gadgets and devices amidst my antiques and enjoy the wonders of modern innovation side-by-side with the majestic qualities of craftsmanship? I like my analog watch, and my high-quality leather shoes, and from time to time I’d like to take a few things to the tailor that would be nice to keep long term.  

I hate to think that value and quality — permanence — are irreplaceable.  

Perhaps it’s me that’s become the antique.   

 

Jeff RundlesJeff Rundles is a former editor of ColoradoBiz and a regular columnist. Email him at [email protected].

Wrap Rage — You’ve Probably Experienced It

So I go to the store and pick up some item or another, take it home, and then I discover that I am going to need some help — like TNT, a howitzer, chain saw, Sawzall, plastic explosives — just to open the packaging. Have you tried to open a pack of batteries? Or, God forbid, an electric toothbrush head? Or how about the little plastic and tin foil compartment holding cold-remedy capsules? And, yeah, who hasn’t laced nearly a whole box of breakfast cereal across the counter or floor trying to open that pesky and impenetrable plastic bag actually holding the product in the box?

I want to take a selection of some of the worst examples of poor and frustrating product packaging, interview the CEO of the manufacturing company, hand them the product and ask: Can you open this? It would make a great “60 Minutes” segment to find out that the president of Eveready isn’t.

Over the years I have learned all too acutely that I am not unique, and that the odd things I notice have been noticed a lot by tons of other people. But still, while wrestling with a particularly pernicious plastic shell on a set of flashlights I thought I would never get to use for lack of access, I decided to search the internet for packaging problems and was pretty amazed to find out that the anger I was feeling is actually widespread and has a name: Wrap Rage. Not only that, but Wrap Rage as a title for the phenomenon goes back at least 20 years and the respected publication Consumer Reports even had awards for the packaging Hall of Shame in the 2005-2007 era called the Oysters. (Oysters being notoriously hard to open, which is fine for a mollusk but crazy for a computer zip drive package.)

Just as I suspected — because I myself have come this close — thousands of people every year are injured enough to go to the emergency room because the knife or box cutter slipped when they were trying in vain to open vitamins heat-wrapped in a plastic shell, or they put a screwdriver into their leg attempting to free a Barbie Doll from the twist-tied torture chamber she is embedded in. Who knew it would take patience and patients to be able to enjoy everyday products.

While surely Marquis de Sade types play an integral role in any self-respecting packaging design team, there are of course broader goals in devilish packaging that require the skills of people who possess Machiavellian sensibilities as well. On the one hand, it appears important to piss off consumers one at a time with evil product wraps, so why not also screw entire societies and the whole world with containers made of materials that our descendants in the 41st century will be studying for clues to our way of life 2,000 years before? What with indestructible and non-degradable materials, our human successors 20 centuries from now will wonder why the only identifiable remains of our time are ginormous hoards of crap buried underground and lining the seas that still clearly proclaim our stuff was “New and Improved!” and “As Seen on TV,” whatever that was.

The packaging industry, to some extent, both defends its designs — a deterrent to theft, to maintain freshness, ease of display, etc. — and says it is diligently working on creating less packaging and packaging made of better recyclable, biodegradable or compostable materials. But the truth is that the industry and manufacturers have been saying this for years and years, and yet the onslaught of hazardous materials and Wrap-Rage-worthy packaging only accelerates — exponentially, as it turns out, as e-commerce tightens its vise grip on the product supply chain. 

The only real way to change this scenario is for consumers to take individual action and stop buying diabolically packaged goods, which is difficult in that so few better-choice alternatives are available. Not to mention that the rate of recycling for American consumers remains disturbingly low while we also hear that recycled materials end up in landfills and oceans anyway. 

Actually, I am hopeful, as the strident debate over the existence of global warming seems to have subsided just lately, so maybe, perhaps, it is possible to unwrap Wrap Rage too. That, however, may prove to be the most difficult wrap to open.

 

Jeff RundlesJeff Rundles is a former editor of ColoradoBiz and a regular columnist. Email him at [email protected].

Back to the distancing future

The ins and outs, peaks and valleys, highs and lows and ups and downs of the Coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic we are all experiencing are now etched in our minds as permanently as a mental tattoo. But amid all the things I wish I never knew and pray I can someday not remember, what comes to mind for me was the very first admonition sent out by experts way back in February: Wash your hands for 20 seconds, frequently.

Back then in the long ago pre-crisis era we members of the general public thought that rigorous hand-washing would be about the worst of the situation. How quaint and naive it seems now. My favorite things were the tips offered for timing your hand-washing sessions. My wife told me, “They recommend you recite the ABC Song, and that will be about 20 seconds, and she sang: “A-B-C-D-E-F-G … Now I know my ABCs, next time won’t you sing with me.”

But in my head I heard Michael Jackson: “A, B, C; It’s easy as one, two three; Or simple as do-re-mi …”

Now I can’t get that song out of my head; it’s become my anthem to the Corona-verse. If only this whole catastrophe was as easy as one, two, three. And while I look back to help me deal with the realities of today, I can’t help thinking about the future, or as many people I have been six feet from have said, “When we get back to normal.”

I’ve got news for you: We aren’t going back to normal; we’re going back to the future, a future that will be some far distancing from the world we left in March. As I see it, the future holds some positives and plenty of negatives, but I am certain it won’t be “normal.”

When we emerge from this, I see a world where 50% – at best – of the restaurants reopen. And, of course, that loss will involve thousands of jobs. Moreover, I think a similar percentage of loss will befall the entire brick and mortar retail scene, with e-commerce surging more than ever; keep a wary eye on monopolies like Amazon. This will be part of growing willingness to embrace the safety of social distancing.

What with all of the work-from-home tele-meeting/Zoom jobs many businesses have instituted, I can imagine that the less-social arrangement will be embraced in a larger way than ever before. The net effect – and the benefit to business – will mean that many companies will do with far less commercial real estate than they had planned – and far less expensive office space as well. Hell, we’ve learned to work from anywhere, so high-price Class A offices in major cities, I believe, will give way to smaller, cheaper, and more spread-out HQs. Corporate distancing, if you will.

The dearth of face masks, ventilators and other medical supplies – many of them sourced from China – and the overall disruption in the Asia-heavy distribution chain of a wide range of goods I am sure will result in many companies bringing vast amounts of manufacturing back into the United States. Prices will rise, sure, but so will consumer confidence. If there ever was a “Made in the USA” moment, this is it.  Global distancing, I suppose.

I also believe people will come to the conclusion that staying close to home has numerous benefits. My sense is that people are seeing the pollution advantages of driving less, and the cost benefits as well, so I imagine that car travel will not return to “normal.” So too air travel. I’m guessing that the airline industry and the travel industry will both take significant hits from the pandemic, and may never fully recover.  Distance distancing, you could call it.

There is also the real possibility – probability – that many people, reaching right up to the uber rich, are discovering that they haven’t put anywhere near enough away for a rainy day, and that rainy days can and probably will crop up more often. My guess is that savings will greatly increase as we slide into the “new normal,” and that frivolous spending will abate. Conspicuous consumption distancing.

It’s not going to be as easy as one, two, three. And it’s going to cost a lot of do-re-mi.

Call it “normal” distancing.