(From the Janesville Messenger, 1-20-08)
When you walk into Dave Warren’s Ace Hardware store in Milton, you see a lot of red. It’s in the Ace logo, and it’s the color of the shirts worn by all of Dave’s helpful staff.
But lately, Dave has been seeing a lot more red than he would prefer.
Specifically, it’s in the form of red tape. And it all began because of his self-described fanaticism about customer service.
How serious is Dave about customer service? He’s written a 50-page manual on the subject. He makes sure his employees are thoroughly schooled on providing it. And his efforts have been noticed, even meriting a cover story on a national trade publication titled “Wow! Service that exceeds expectations!”
In that spirit, Dave decided to add a cappuccino machine for his customers. Dave had always offered free coffee, but now cappuccino, hot chocolate and spiced cider were also provided free. Even better, any donations you made for enjoying your hot drink were turned over to the Milton Food Pantry.
Enter the Rock County Health Department, who decreed that Dave couldn’t provide these warm fuzzies without something called a three-compartment sink.
Apparently, you need one part of the sink for washing, one for rinsing, and one for sanitizing. That sounds fine for commercial applications like restaurants, but for providing free cups of cappuccino? Well, Dave discovered in a hurry that when it comes to government, resistance is futile. So rather than spend $1000 to remodel the store for a three-compartment sink, the cappuccino maker was history.
A year later, the Health Department struck again, this time at Dave’s other Ace Hardware store in Evansville. Apparently disappointed that a cappuccino maker didn’t turn up on the premises, the inspector instead focused on the air pots used to serve the free hot coffee. The pots couldn’t be used unless the store had a three-compartment sink. Residents of Evansville, say goodbye to your free hot coffee.
Apparently, these three-compartment sinks are the answer to the world’s problems. Maybe if we sent one to Iraq, the Sunnis and Shiites would sit down over a cup o’ joe and agree to live together in peace and harmony. Indeed, I feel very fortunate to be alive, having drank coffee for the past 20 years in a filthy, disease-ridden, one- or two-compartment world.
Not content with a mere spanking at the hands of the authorities, Dave decided to incur yet more governmental wrath. This time, his crime wasn’t customer service; it was environmentalism.
A few months ago, Dave placed an automatic aluminum can recycling center in his parking lot. It’s a pretty slick device. You insert your empty cans, and the machine weighs them and pays you cash on the spot. It’s kind of like a big vending machine, only in reverse.
There was only one problem. It wasn’t that there was a city ordinance prohibiting such a machine. There was no city ordinance at all. Basically, nothing in the city’s code says what to do about a red-and-white mini-silo that rewards your recycling efforts. So until it is addressed, the recycling center sits idle, a quiet monument to the greatness of America, the country with the world’s cleanest, most sanitary coffee makers (Caution: Hot!).
I sit on the Milton Plan Commission, charged with the task of figuring out how to let Dave run his recycling center. For two months, everything from this center’s placement on the property to its treatment in other cities to its visual appeal - or lack thereof – has been debated. If we continue along the current path of amending the city ordinance to allow Dave’s machine as a conditional use, it could take another two months. I’m a member of this government body, and I’m frustrated. I can’t imagine how Dave feels.
He probably feels a lot like his brother Mark. Mark also owns a Milton business, American Awards and Promotions. The front of Mark’s store had a swell awning with the company logo on it, until a nasty wind gust came along last year and shredded it.
No problem, right? Just put up a new one. Uh, not so fast, Sparky. Since the previous awning installation, the city sign ordinance had changed. Before Mark could replace his awning, he had to clear more hurdles than an Olympic athlete.
By the time it was over and his new awning was up, four months had passed. An ordinance intended to ensure a more pleasing appearance for city businesses had instead done just the opposite, subjecting Milton residents to a season of viewing the hideous skeletal frame of an awning. Personally, I have yet to recover.
But maybe a nice cappuccino would do the trick.
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