Furniture Consignment Gallery Blog

"Can you do anything with this?" The older gentleman slid a photo of a tattered plaid chair across the counter at me. "Well," I said hesitantly, hoping not to hurt his feelings, "that might be difficult for us to sell..."

 

"Sell it?" he growled. "I don't want you to sell it! I want you to fix it!"

 

Turns out, this chair has been his throne for almost four decades. The pitch of its recline was perfect. Its cushions supported his neck and back properly. And, best of all, his plaid chair had some powerful sports mojo.

 

From that throne, he'd watched quarterback Doug Flutie throw the infamous Hail Mary pass in 1984. He'd witnessed Larry Bird steal the ball in 1987 to win the game for the Boston Celtics.  He'd seen the Red Sox reverse the Curse in 2004, the Bruins hoist the Cup in 2011. Now, he's asking me to fix that chair so he can watch Brady continue his Revenge Tour into 2016.

 

Upholstering a chair is expensive, I explained. I took him on a tour of the showroom, hoping he would find a replacement. 

 

Little did he know, I've been looking for the perfect chair, too. I prowl the showrooms regularly, sitting in every one on the floor searching for a throne made just for me. One with a flat - not rolled - arm so I can rest a cold bourbon on it in the evening. One that soothes my sciatica. I've been looking for years. I have my eye on the American Leather swivel recliner. I gently steered him away from it because that might be the one for me.

 

Regardless, my customer, the older gentleman, decided he didn't have the time for that kind of odyssey. He opted to reupholster his faithful furniture companion. After all, he figured, it's a small price to pay for a chair that brings good fortune to his favorite teams.

 

"You can pick it up after this Sunday, but I want it back before the Denver game," he barked. 

Topics: consignment, Furniture, reupholstery

Our Hanover showroom boasts a trove of treasure this week: 49 pieces of new furniture made by master craftsmen right here in our hometown. Their artistry is extraordinary. Every piece of hardwood has been meticulously matched for figure and grain. Every surface has been planed by hand, every dovetail cut by hand, every decorative element carved by hand.

 

Finally, each piece was signed by the artisan who made it, a personal pledge of pride in meticulous craftsmanship.

 

I thought a lot about the quality of those pieces this week. I was making my first pilgrimage to High Point, North Carolina, the furniture capital of the world. Diana and I were there to buy accessories such as lamps and art for our three showrooms. Diana was also picking out fabric for a new line of chairs we plan to offer in our store in Chestnut Hill.   

 

To the uninitiated, High Point can be overwhelming: 10 million square feet of items for the home from frou-frou pillows to bedroom suites, oil paintings to faux plants, chandeliers to candlesticks, tassels to teapots.Over three days, I wore out the leather soles of my shoes trying to see everything.

 

What struck me hard was the questionable quality of the furniture. Much of it is mass-produced in pieces overseas now, shipped to our shores and assembled here in the U.S. Like those towns that once pocked the Wild West, featuring slapdash stores with fake facades, High Point seemed to me to be oversized and overpriced. In other words, it was all show, no substance.  

 

What a relief to come home to quality.

Topics: High Point, consignment, Furniture

"We need a policy!" Ron, veteran manager of our store in Hanover, said firmly, looking directly at me. "Enough is enough."

 

Policy. That word fills me with dread. Ten years ago, Diana and I made the leap from Corporate America into our own small business in part to escape the rigid policies that big companies inflict on employees and customers. We believe policies hamper creativity and initiative. At FCG, we hire smart people and we trust them to make good decisions on behalf of the customer and the company.

 

Still, Ron had a point. He was frustrated with all the confusion - and, at times, disappointment - created when one of our customers puts a piece of furniture on "hold."

 

At FCG, we allow our customers to put a "hold" on a piece of furniture until they can make a reasoned decision as to whether the piece is right for their home. We'll honor that hold - that is, we won't sell that piece - generally for 24 hours.

 

However, there's a catch. If another buyer comes into the showroom and expresses an interest in buying the piece, we'll call the person who put it on hold. At that time, on the phone, they have to make a decision to buy or not to buy.  We make every reasonable effort to reach the first buyer, but if we can't, we will sell the piece to the person in front of us.

 

That's only fair to our consignors who have entrusted us to sell their items quickly and at the highest possible price.

 

I don't like holds. They cause confusion. Some buyers think a hold will last for a week - or a month. Others are upset getting a phone call that will require they make an instant decision. We don't like disappointing anyone.  

 

Still, for our business, holds are a necessity. Some buyers spot a piece of furniture online and are willing to drive an hour or more to check it out. Sometimes, they'll call us as they are pulling out of the driveway to ask us to put the piece on hold. Or wife may want her husband to see the piece after work before they buy it. We think it's only fair to give our buyers that time, if possible.

 

I understand the frustration our salespeople and managers encounter explaining and enforcing a hold. But I still don't want to put in place some legalistic policy, one that would have a hold expire precisely at the stroke of midnight. I want to empower our employees to use common sense and do what's right for the buyer, the seller and the business.

 

So we're not going to join the cable company, the utility and the rest of Corporate America. We're not going to put a lot of policies between us and you. In fact, to us it is a point of pride: FCG has a non-policy policy. 

Topics: consignment, MA, Furniture Consignment, Furniture, consignment policy

We sprang out of bed even before the alarm. Diana raced to the kitchen, started the coffee and tossed the cereal bowls onto the table. Upstairs, I slathered my face with shaving cream while singing a tune. I nicked myself a couple of times, but, still, I knew it was going to be a great day.

 

I was full of adrenaline, as excited as I'd been for my first day of college, my first job interview, the day we acquired Furniture Consignment Gallery.

 

I didn't need any coffee, but what the heck, we were ready to live dangerously. Diana grinned as she slid a hot cup of java across the table to me. Our eyes locked in a conspiratorial gaze.

 

"We need to focus -" she said.  "We can't screw this up," I blurted out at the same time.

 

 "Those kids are going back to school," we agreed. "Today!" We exchanged a high five for good luck.

 

Moments later, the boys straggled into the kitchen. Soon, the French toast was flying from griddle to plate. Sure, there was some whining, a few mild curses mumbled under the breath, and the occasional hostile stare from the offspring.  But in record time, the boys were fed and out the door. They looked like a trio of turtles trudging down the driveway with their bulging backpacks strapped to their backs.  

 

Son #1 was on the bus at 6:55 a.m. Son #2 left at 7:05, and #3 at 7:25.

 

"See you later!" I sang, waving goodbye as the last bus rumbled down the road. Then, I broke into an impromptu and utterly joyful "moon walk" back to the house.

 

With three boys ages 7 to 15, summer had seemed to last forever. I'd had three long months of repeating myself, louder and louder, to break through the sound barrier of their headphones.  (Favorite phrase of the oldest, repeated endlessly: "Huh?")

 

Then there were all those last-minute excursions with friends. "Dad, we're going to the golfing range... the ice cream shop ... the pool ... the mall." That was followed by "Can you drive? Can you drive? Can you drive?"

 

When I wasn't a chauffeur, I felt like the clean-up crew trailing after a three-ring circus. I spent the summer turning off lights in empty rooms, flushing unflushed toilets, emptying full bins of trash and clearing a path through the sports gear into the house. I was ready for this moment.

 

Diana gave the boys a sneak peek at their afternoon snack as they walked out the door. She'd baked them a cake. On it, in fresh frosting, she'd written the words GO TO SCHOOL.

 

Freedom! It's wonderful. If the school nurse calls, I'm not answering.

Topics: family, consignment, school, boston, MA, chestnut hill, newton, Furniture Consignment, Hanover, plymouth Furniture, plymouth, furnitureconsignment.com, children, kids, school bus, back to school, boston consignment

Get out," I said firmly. "And don't ever come back."

I was shocked - and so was he. In ten years of business, I have never once kicked a customer out of the store. Until now. And, yes, this guy more than deserved it.

What happened?

He approached me at the store one day last week with a question about a "crappy piece of furniture that's seen better days." Actually, the piece was an antique pine cabinet full of vintage charm. Gesturing at it with contempt, he launched into a litany of its imperfections. The doors didn't line up correctly. The lock was sticky. The glue on the dovetail drawers had loosened.

"Your price," he said, raising his voice, "is crazy."

At this point, I must admit, the guy was starting to irritate me. The imperfections, I told him, are partly by design and partly the result of age, neither of which should be fixed or repaired. Apparently angered by my response, he began insulting me, my business and my integrity.

Now, in our business, we see a lot of folks who want to haggle a bit for a better price. In some cases, certain pieces have lingered on the showroom floor too long, and we may discount the price for a buyer eager to take the item home. In other situations, we will demur, knowing that a piece will sell quickly as priced.  

Our goal is to keep all our customers happy. Our consignors want us to sell their items for the highest price. Our buyers, on the other hand, are looking for a bargain on quality furniture. We walk the knife's edge every day trying to please both.   

At Furniture Consignment Gallery, we welcome all customers, including the bargain-hunters. If you think there's room to haggle on an item, make us an offer. We'll do our best to help you buy the piece you love at a price you can afford.

But try to remember: negotiating is an art best done with a butter knife instead of a hatchet.

Topics: haggle, consignment, boston, MA, Furniture, Hanover, plymouth, bury the hatchet

Moments after the moving van pulled out of the driveway of his new waterfront home earlier this summer, she appeared at the front door. Tiny, silver-haired and roly-poly, she thrust out a tray of mouth-watering, freshly-made cannolis dusted with sugar. He had to stop himself from snatching one off the plate, he confessed later.

 

"I comma to say hello," she said in an accent as thick as the day, seventy years ago, that she left the Old Country.  "What you eat today? Burger? That's-a no good. I've got meatballs at home. And I wanna you to cut down-a the trees so we can see-a the ocean."

 

An Italian grandma is a force of nature, irresistible and unstoppable. He cut down the trees that week and earned a seat at the family table for dinners on Sunday. He's gained a few pounds this summer much to the delight of his neighborhood nonna.  

 

Now, Italian Grandma has decided it's time for him to furnish his new home properly. Out went the shabby recliner, the card-table in the dining room and the old mattress on the floor of the master bedroom.

 

Then, she sent him to us at Furniture Consignment Gallery. Nonna, apparently, knows quality.  And she knows a bargain when she sees it. 

 

In a whirlwind hour, he found a sectional, a leather chair and a dining room set. (We've got three amazing sets on the showroom floor priced below $1,000.) As he was paying the bill, he was talking about inviting nonna and her husband over to watch a game so he could show off his shopping prowess.

 

"I wonder what she'd bake?" he mused aloud.

 

I felt a pang of jealousy - and I could almost taste the cannoli. "Anybody selling on your street?" I asked.

Topics: sale, consigment, grandmother, neighbors, consignment, MA, chestnut hill, Furniture Consignment, Furniture, Hanover, plymouth, gallery, moving, neighborhood, salesman, brand names, italian, neighbor, busy, desirable, canoli

Topics: sale, consigment, consignment, MA, chestnut hill, Furniture Consignment, Furniture, Hanover, plymouth, gallery, moving, salesman, brand names, busy, desirable

Topics: frucci, consigment, consignment, MA, chestnut hill, Furniture Consignment, Furniture, Hanover, plymouth, gallery, moving, childhood, adulthood

Topics: frucci, consigment, consignment, MA, chestnut hill, Furniture Consignment, Furniture, Hanover, plymouth, gallery, moving, childhood, adulthood

Topics: frucci, consigment, drivers ed, paving, parenthood, consignment, MA, chestnut hill, Furniture Consignment, Furniture, Hanover, plymouth, gallery, childhood, adulthood, pavement, parenting