Over 3 decades ago, Rev-Pack began as a simple business, located in the living
room of a rented house. From there it moved to a garage and then, finally
to a barn. It has evolved and matured along the way, but it is still
a homegrown business, and our way of doing things is a bit different than
that of the rest of corporate America.
Yes, we have all of the accouterments of an office, just like everybody
else, but we have a few extras as well. The path, which your order
follows, is a path rendered with excitement, intrigue and peril and it all
begins with a simple phone call from you.
As the phone rings, it is answered "Rev-Pack". You immediately
hear the squeak of the old desk chair as Rev shifts his weight to begin frantically
searching for a pen and a piece of paper. The first phase is called
"the desk". To appreciate receiving your order, you first must understand
from whence it came.
"The desk" is littered with thoughts, sketches, dreams, orders, suppliers,
product ideas, last years magazines, and other stuff that is just to good
to throw away. Add a cat sleeping on top and you begin to realize what
an onerous task this order process is. Rev realizes the cat is on the
pen as the cat moves to his lap for some cuddling. Readjusting the
cat, he's able to speak with you in a remarkably controlled manner.
He thanks you for your order and readies himself for the remainder of the
ordeal.
As he throws the cat off of his lap, the chicken, sleeping in the rafters,
is startled and begins to squawk and flap her wings. The squawking
wakes the old dog, which promptly runs under Rev's feet causing him to stumble,
catching him on a chair that is precariously balanced on the sewing platform.
He gingerly proceeds on to "the counter".
"The counter" has an assemblance of order, which is in your favor if you
ever hope to receive anything from us. At "the counter" the orders are
read and re-read, assessing just how much work must be done. When the
pile reaches the overwhelming stage and the clipboard's spring is maxed out,
it's time to move to "the cutting table". This perhaps is the most
perilous part of the process.
As Rev makes his way to "the cutting table" he trips, falling into
a hole in the floor. The hole was created when a neighbor's bull ran
amuck in the barn. The floor had not been constructed to support a
2,000-lb. bull, so the bull sank periodically through the floor in several
inconvenient places. As Rev retrieves his balance, he steps forward
and lands on the old dog's paw. The dog and Rev yelp, glare accusingly
at one another and go their separate ways. Again the hen's disgust
is registered by an exceptionally loud squawk and she finally flutters outside,
wanting to distance herself from the commotion. The dog sulks behind
some boxes and Rev hops up on the cutting table to both work and try to rise
above the managerie.
"The Cutting Table" is the phase only Rev can do, as any of the rest of
us would give you two left sides or zippers no sliders in. If you should
receive a product like this, you'll know we were only trying to help Rev out.
After a session of cutting, it is difficult to find him under all of the scraps.
A thin trail of smoke can be seen and digging backwards, he might be found resting
in the pile, smoking a roll-your-own cigarette. It's one of the only places the
animals can't find him.
From this point your order is either constructed here, or taken to
one of our seamstresses that sew in their own home. If the product smells
like potpourri then it probably was assembled by one of our seamstresses in
a comfortable suburban home. If it smells like barn animals, then it
was done here on the ranch. Either way, a little bit of us is shipped
to you!
Next, the finished product is taken back to "the counter". Here,
it can be delayed for some time. You see, the product is wrapped in
the Wall Street Journal for shipping. If there happens to be something
interesting to read in that issue of the journal, a delay of several hours
can occur. If it's the real estate page, a delay of several days may happen
as Rev reads through, plotting and planning a trip. About the only thing
that can yank him back to reality, is the sound of the UPS truck rolling
down the road. Then the shop becomes frantic with all manner of humans
and animals scurrying around, dodging one another and trying to beat the
UPS truck. During this final outburst of productivity, inevitably, the phone
rings and the whole process must start again, as the cat has assumed it's
position on the pen on the desk once again and with the squeak of the old
office chair, the UPS driver says "see you tomorrow".