This appears online, probably (like most such things) copied and pasted from somewhere else. Nevertheless, it sounds a lot like it could have originated from dealings with HRM Planning. Thankfully, they do not have jurisdiction over furniture manufacturing... yet.
Outsiders don’t really understand just how weird the planning process is.
Imagine you’re a master carpenter. You’ve been building furniture and casework for many years. You have a style that you’ve developed, and a loyal customer base that loves your products…
When building for commercial applications, there are code requirements around fire safety, VOCs, and other health/safety issues.
These are clearly written and you’ve always been able to document and adhere to them on your own without much trouble.
One day it’s announced that the government has a new process for ensuring the quality and safety of your work.
From now on, a panel representing several city departments will review your designs before they can be sold.
Sounds reasonable, right?
You attend your first review meeting.
None of the reviewers have ever worked in carpentry, or any related field. A couple have taken one or two woodworking classes in school or university.
They range between 25-35 years old, but most are in their 20’s.
The first hour is spent asking you how you plan to meet the safety regulations that you’ve already been meeting for many years.
They ask you to submit documentation formally for further review. They will circulate your docs for comment by each dept and ask for revisions.
The panel makes it clear that your actual work methods and products won’t need to change at all.
But you should expect a few rounds of comments to properly document these safety measures, and this process will take several months prior to final approval.
Next up, design review.
A 26 year old with an industrial design degree, but no experience in manufacturing, kicks things off.
He congratulates you on your very nice work, but then says that he has some concerns that he’d like you to consider.
First off, some of your materials are sourced from British Columbia, and he would really like to see more local materials used. He recognizes that this might increase costs. But please consider local materials.
You are confused, and ask if this is a requirement or a suggestion.
He says it’s not a requirement, but strongly encouraged. He will review your formal response, and will provide further guidance at that time. You have no idea whether this is something you actually need to do.
This will become a common theme for the meeting.
Next, he is concerned about climate change and thinks that you should consider using more sustainable wood, perhaps bamboo.
You explain that bamboo isn’t appropriate for all projects, but you’re happy to use it when it makes sense.
The reviewer seems annoyed…
“Climate change is the greatest challenge of our time and I think you should take it seriously.”
You don’t know what to say to this, so you say nothing.
Next up, he notices that all of your designs for chairs have four legs. He asks why.
“I’ve never thought about it,” you say. “My customers have only ever asked for four-legged chairs, but I’ve also built the occasional three-legged stool.”
The design reviewer suggests that you bring some five- or six-legged chair designs to the next meeting.
His department is focused on “innovation” this year and he’d like to use your designs as examples for his internal team.
You express concern about the time required to design chairs that no one will buy, but the reviewer insists.
You make a note to bring five-legged chair designs to the next meeting.
Next, the reviewer takes on a serious tone.
“We strive to be an inclusive city, one which accepts people of all types and sizes. With waistlines growing in our society, we must ensure that chairs are sized to accommodate all bodies.”
He takes this opportunity to announce the city’s new Furniture Design and Excellence Guidelines.
This glossy 143 page document lays out “voluntary” guidelines for all furniture sold in the city, including a “optimal seat size inventory mix”.
The guidelines stipulate that the width of all chairs shall be indexed to the butt sizes of the city’s population.
Fully one third or more of all chairs held in inventory must be sized to accommodate larger butts.
You are dumbfounded. You already have customers of all sizes, but you have never been asked to create different seat sizes.
The reviewer continues.
While the guidelines are “voluntary”, all furniture manufacturers will be required to track their inventory and report to the city on a monthly basis so it can get a more fulsome sense of how the city is doing on full representation in seat widths.
You already make chairs ranging between 40-60cm wide, depending on the design.
When inventory sells, you simply make more of the things that are selling well. You have never had to track and report inventory.
You’ll have to hire someone to handle this paperwork for you.
Finally, the reviewer moves to his final comment.
He asks you to consider furniture weight, and says that in the next meeting he wants to see designs which are light enough to be safely moved by a person who has limited strength and mobility.
At the same time, pieces should be heavy enough not to tip over, which could potentially harm young children.
He trusts that given your deep experience, you will be able to propose something that is both very light and very heavy in your next submission.
The reviewer commits to sending a full list of the comments from this meeting within 24 hours, so that you can put together responses and schedule a follow up meeting.
A day later, you send an email because you haven’t received the report.
You get an auto-response saying that the reviewer is on leave for 6 weeks.
You spend the day calling every single one of his colleagues. No one answers, and their voicemail boxes are full.
A month later you are able to catch his supervisor by waiting in the lobby of their office building.
They commit to sending the report within two weeks after the reviewer returns.
You get the report a month after his return. It is now ten weeks after your meeting.
The report has a bunch of comments that weren’t discussed at the meeting, and many of them ask you to consider various design and manufacturing decisions which would materially impact your business. These sound like requirements, but are supposedly voluntary.
You call the reviewer many times that week. Finally, after blocking your number, he picks up the phone.
You ask if he will provide clarity on these comments, and he says he is too busy. He will provide feedback in response to your full submission.
He also mentions that most of your peers in the industry need to go through four or five rounds of comments prior to approval.
He hisses that it would be much faster if only people had better and more complete submissions.
So you put together a spreadsheet with all of his comments, and you respond to each one. You attach drawings, specifications, and supplier data sheets. It takes you two weeks and approximately 20 hours, but you submit everything late on a Friday.
It takes about two months for you to get your next meeting, and another two months after that to get the next report.
You are stunned to see many of the same comments, verbatim, with no further information.
Are these voluntary suggestions actually requirements?
Were your answers bad?
There is no information, so you call the reviewer.
He tells you he doesn’t have time. They are egregiously understaffed.
Besides, he can’t provide any information until your next submission because it wouldn’t be fair to other applicants who are waiting patiently.
After a total of 2.5 years, you get approval for your designs.
The design expo you wanted to bring them to has long passed.
You have had to hire an outside consultant to handle the monthly reporting, and your costs are up 2x to meet the voluntary sustainability goals.
Other than that, nothing about your business has changed.
You can’t help but wonder:
Why?
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