Guided by Empathy

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I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been asked to build a bottom grid for our sinks. It would be easy—price it out, make it available, and watch the revenue roll in. But here’s the thing: our sinks don’t need a grid to protect the bottom. Unlike most sinks on the market, ours are built differently.

Our bronze, brass, and copper sinks develop self-healing patinas, and our hand-finished stainless sinks are crafted from 316L stainless steel, which is far harder than the 304 stainless used in typical residential sinks. That combination—the durability of the metal and our meticulous hand-finishing process—means that a grid simply isn’t necessary.

The same applies to many accessories I could sell. I’ve been asked countless times for add-ons that, at first glance, seem like a good idea. But I always feel compelled to walk through the pros and cons. More often than not, the cons were never considered. And once they are, those accessories don’t seem quite so essential anymore.

That’s why my policy is simple: stick to the essentials first. I encourage customers to use their sink for a while before adding anything extra. If, down the road, they realize they truly need a particular accessory, it’s always available at the same original price, with just a small shipping fee. No pressure. No unnecessary spending. Just a solution tailored to what actually makes their kitchen better.

This approach isn’t the easiest. It means saying no to revenue that could make a real difference to my business. And believe me, I feel the weight of that. My team and their families rely on me to keep things running, to grow the company, and to ensure stability. But at the end of the day, integrity comes first. I won’t push an accessory that won’t genuinely benefit someone. I won’t sell the most advanced workstation sink to a family that won’t use its features. It just wouldn’t sit right with me.

Decades ago, my mindset was different. Back then, the goal was always to maximize the sale. The bigger, the better. And while that approach may have made me feel successful at the time, there was always an underlying sense of guilt. As I’ve gotten older, my perspective has shifted. Now, the goal isn’t the sale—it’s helping people. That’s what brings me satisfaction.

I’ve spent hours—sometimes entire evenings—helping families who couldn’t afford one of our sinks or a Waterstone faucet. I’ve researched alternatives, compiled lists of high-quality brands and models that fit their budget, and shared that information freely. And when I send that email or make that call, the surprise and gratitude on the other end are priceless. Ironically, those moments—when no sale is made at all—have given me as much, if not more, satisfaction than the largest orders I’ve ever taken. They remind me why I do what I do: to make a difference, one family, one kitchen, one conversation at a time.

A good friend of mine, a deputy sheriff who often stops by my office for a quiet lunch on Saturdays, once overheard the tail end of a Zoom call with a customer. As soon as I wrapped up, he leaned in, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Dino, are you out of your mind? Did you just talk your customer out of $1,100 in upgrades?” I laughed. “Yes, I did,” I said. “Because they didn’t need them.”

He just stared at me for a second before breaking into a knowing smile—the kind you only get from someone who truly understands where you’re coming from.

At the end of the day, my goal is simple: to be a problem solver. I love helping families create kitchens that aren’t just functional but truly enjoyable. The kitchen sink is the most used tool in any home, yet it’s often overlooked in design. My mission is to make sure every sink I create works optimally for each family—making their daily routine easier, more efficient, and maybe even a little more enjoyable. And that’s something money just can’t buy.

Sincerely,

Dino Rachiele