Good-bye Tony

Tony was the guy who owned the One Hour Martinizing shop where we used to do most of our drycleaning. I say "used to" because I found a cleaner on the way to work that washes and irons my shirts for much less than Martinizing was charging. But we still take the true dry cleaning to Tony's shop, because we trust his work to be better. But Tony's not there any more.

When I dropped off a couple pair of slacks and a sport coat Monday morning, two guys I'd never seen before, wearing "One Hour Martinizing" name tags and eager smiles, greeted me as I came and went. Hmmm, I thought. These don't look like two guys Tony hired.

As I drove out, I peered through the windows into the shop to look for the framed newspaper article clipped and posted just after Tony opened the place. It showed a smiling Tony in a sport coat (I never saw him in one in person), bragging about the unique method and service One Hour Martinizing offered. The spot on the wall where it had greeted us was bare, save for a small nail hole.

"Yeah, he sold the place last Friday," the kid said who fetched my clean clothes this evening. And, really, I wasn't surprised.

Sometime this winter I talked with Tony when I had made another drop-off. When Tony was there, you always talked with him. I forget his last name, but it was Italian, and Tony--always effusive, always a kidder, always beating you at the door to open it for you with a hearty greeting--fit perfectly the stereotype. Something else about Tony--he always remembered my name and Evelyn's name and always asked me about her when he saw me there alone. And we were not big customers by any means. I was always surprised when he said, "Come on in here, Mark" as he held open the door on a chilly or rainy evening.

He told me the shop made a profit of only $60,000+ last year on business of almost a half million. Taxes, accountants, Social Security benefits, unemployment and other insurance, plus rent and the cost of materials took the bulk of what he brought in. He was discouraged with the situation. And last week he sold the place.

"What's he doing," I asked the kid.

"I dunno," he said. "Traveling the world. Selling something."

Ah, yes, Tony was the quintessential salesman. And I'm guessing he figured his charm and hard work could earn him more working for someone else than working for himself.

My takeaways:
1) Owning your own business and "working for yourself" often means that the business owns you and you work for everyone walking in the door.

2) Even with all the moxie of a Tony, it's hard for a small businessman to make it today.

3) Tony sold quality and service, but I'm still taking the bulk of my business to someplace that does it well enough and a lot cheaper. There's always a place for the business that appeals to misers like me.