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 so easy to price out a grid and benefit the company financially; however, our sinks, unlike most others, do not require a grid to protect the bottom of the bowl. Our bronze, brass, and copper sinks have self-healing patinas, and our hand-finished stainless sinks use 316L stainless steel, which is much harder than the typical 304 stainless used in most residential sinks. A combination of our hand finishing and the hardness of the stainless steel eliminates the need for a grid to protect the bottom. 

I have been asked for accessories that would be very easy to sell; however, I am always compelled to illustrate the pros and cons, and most often the cons were never considered, and when pointed out, most often the additional accessories are not ordered. My policy with regard to additional accessories beyond what we refer to as the essentials is to wait until the sink is used. Most often, the essentials do most everything needed, but if not, the wanted accessory is readily available at the same original price with a very small shipping fee. 

This approach isn’t easy. It means saying no to revenue that could make a real difference to our business. And believe me, I feel the weight of it. My team and their families depend on me to keep the wheels turning, to grow the business, and to ensure stability. But when I look at the families we serve—families who are no different from my own or those of my employees—I know that integrity has to come first. I could never justify pushing unnecessary accessories or persuading someone to purchase our most advanced workstation sink if I knew it wouldn’t suit their needs. It wouldn’t feel right.

Decades ago, I would do my best to make every sale as big and profitable as possible. It made me feel successful, but there was always a haunting feeling of guilt. As a "salesperson," the sale was always the goal. In my older age, I have become much more empathetic, and my goals have changed significantly. Now, the sale isn’t the goal—it’s helping people. That’s where I find my satisfaction. 

I’ve spent hours, sometimes entire evenings, assisting families who couldn’t afford one of our sinks or a Waterstone faucet. I’ve researched the best alternatives, compiling lists of quality brands and models that fit their budget. And when I hit send on that email or pick up the phone to share those recommendations, the surprise and gratitude on the other end are priceless. Ironically, those moments, when no sale is made at all, have brought me as much—if not more—personal satisfaction than the largest sales in my career. They remind me why I started this journey in the first place: to make a difference, one family, one kitchen, one conversation at a time. 

A good friend of mine, a deputy sheriff whose beat runs near my office, often swings by to eat his lunch in peace on Saturdays. He prefers my office to the confines of his patrol car. A while back, he caught the tail end of a Zoom call I was having with a customer. As soon as I wrapped up, he leaned in, eyebrows raised, and said, “Dino, are you out of your mind? Did you just talk your customer out of $1,100 in upgrades?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I did,” I replied. “I wouldn’t push accessories on someone that wouldn’t genuinely benefit their family—just like I’d never suggest something to you that you didn’t need.” 

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then came that knowing smile, the kind you only get from someone who understands exactly where you’re coming from.

Sincerely,

Dino Rachiele