To our customers:

We opened on October 14th. It is now December. That is, by most reckonings, approximately eleven weeks. This letter covers those eleven weeks. I intend to write one of these every year. I intend to be honest in it. I am starting now.

On What We Are Doing Here

I want to be direct about what this store is and what it is not. It is not a store that is trying to be something to everyone. It is a store that sells plaid trousers — good ones, at a fair price, to customers who understand what they are buying. That is the whole business. I do not intend to complicate it.

I do not manage this store to look impressive at the end of a quarter. I manage it to still be here in thirty years. These are different objectives and they occasionally require different decisions. When they conflict, I choose thirty years.

On the Customer

I have spent eleven weeks watching customers come through the door and I have learned one thing with certainty: the customer who feels understood will come back. The customer who feels sold to will not. These are not the same thing and the difference matters more than any other single factor in this business.

I am not interested in making a sale. I am interested in fitting a man correctly. A correctly fitted man tells other men. That is the only marketing I intend to do.

I am not interested in what my competitors are selling. I am interested in what my customers need. These are different orientations and they produce different stores.

On Standards

I will say something about hiring, though at present the staff consists of myself and Dolores, which limits the application of what I am about to say. Nevertheless: I will not hire a man who will do the job adequately when I can wait for a man who will do it correctly. Adequacy compounds into mediocrity. Correctness compounds into something you can be proud of in thirty years.

Every person we hire raises the standard for the next person we hire, or lowers it. There is no neutral hire. I intend to hire only people who raise it. This will sometimes mean waiting. I am willing to wait.

I intend to be proud of this in thirty years.

On Being Misunderstood

Several people I respect have told me this is not a good time to open a store selling plaid trousers in Macomb, Illinois. The economy is uncertain. The fashion trends are moving in a direction they describe as "away from plaid." My brother-in-law said I was making a mistake. My brother-in-law has been wrong before. I am making a considered bet that the customer who wants a good plaid trouser is not going away, that there are more of them than the fashion press believes, and that if I serve them correctly they will reward that service with loyalty. I may be wrong. I do not believe I am wrong.

I am comfortable being misunderstood for long periods of time. I am not comfortable with short-term thinking. These are related positions.

On the First Eleven Weeks

We sold 214 pairs of trousers. We received four complaints. We acted on zero of them, though we listened to all four and found one of them instructive about our sizing labels, which we have corrected. We turned a modest profit in November and a slightly less modest one in December, which is seasonal. One customer drove from Peoria specifically because someone in Macomb told him about us. I consider this the most important thing that happened in our first eleven weeks.

We are starting something here. I believe in it. I intend to write to you every year and tell you honestly whether it is working.

It is working.