Does It Have to Be Pirelli?  (see Part 1 here)

It was 1984 and my first trip to Europe. I arrived in Frankfurt, Germany. I was examining everything carefully, to see if in fact the attention to detail, precision, and quality was in keeping with the country’s mythic standards. It appeared to be. The airport was slick as could be and my eye was drawn to the flooring – a studded rubber material. I had seen its application in small areas in New York City, like elevator floors, but never such a large area as an entire airport. The reason was simple – this was Pirelli rubber tile, and it was rather expensive at the time to cover such a large area. But this was Germany, where the standard for manufacture was very high and, often, cost was not the dominant factor in choosing materials or methods – quality was. I subsequently learned that Pirelli tile had a tremendous reputation for durability. It was guaranteed for 10 years, even in high-traffic applications. Now, I really wanted to use it somehow, but where?

In 1991, I moved my business to its current location in SoHo. Here, I wanted to create a badly needed showroom, which I did not have at my previous older location. I wanted the quality of materials going into the showroom to reflect the quality of our product line. I hired my best friend, a cabinetmaker, to do all the woodwork. We used baltic birch plywood for cabinetry. I insisted on solid brass screws to assemble – softer and more prone to stripping, my friend relented, seeing that I was steadfast in my obsession.

I needed an area for ball bouncing. The bouncing of balls is a subset of the juggling world, and to test balls properly, a hard, even surface is needed. A wood floor does not typically have the uniformity or mass for best performance – stone does. So, my carpenter and I decided to design a station specifically for bouncing of silicone rubber balls. I researched for weeks, even calling graveyards in New England, to get an affordable price for a small slab of solid granite 4 inches thick. I also needed a good surface on the wood platform for standing. At last, I had an excuse to use Pirelli tile – it seemed perfect.

Procuring a small number of these tiles, however, was not easy. Vendors in the city were selling by the box, and I only needed a handful of loose tiles. I found a dealer who said that he could provide such, however, once there, it was clear that I was going to be persuaded to buy tiles the salesman wanted to sell, not the Pirelli I had traveled to buy. It became the classic scene of self-service I had seen so many times, common in the world of sales with upselliing, cross-selling, and bait-and-switch.

I was, however, a bit older and wiser since my Juki ordeal, and I was prepared with the proper response to the question I knew was coming. The salesman, frustrated that he did not have the selection of tiles I wanted, asked, “Does it have to be Pirelli?” To which I answered smugly, “No. It does not have to be Pirelli. But that’s what I want.” It was an effective silencing of a New York City salesman. I purchased a small number of gray tiles.

My carpenter and I completed the ball bouncing platform, trimming the edges with solid brass rails. My carpenter, knowing me quite well, indulged my every whim, no matter how “unnecessary.” He knew better now that I should never be questioned why I needed baltic birch or brass screws. I was paying him, and it was his job to service the customer. When I had returned to the showroom and told him the ordeal it had been to get the particular tiles I wanted, he knew not to ask, Does It Have to be Pirelli? 🙂

Related Posts: Do the Right Thing 2, Do the Right Thing, War Against Disservice, Released from Captivity