Artis Henderson
Two women sort through donated clothes, while three others separate shoes and handbags in the processing center of Goodwill Industries of Southwest Florida in North Fort Myers.
I stand at the midpoint of the sorting operation with the operations supervisor of the processing center, Karen Shavinsky, who gives a quick rundown of the sorting and salvage process: Clothes are dumped onto a tray and employees sift through, picking out those that are fit for sale and those that are destined for the giant baler at the end of the line.
Shavinsky holds up a bright-red child’s shirt—Polo, faintly faded. "Kid’s clothes are always good, so we want to hold onto those," she says. "This one is still in good shape." She tosses it into the retail pile. The next few items are children’s clothes, too, and all brand-name: Gap, Tommy Hilfiger, another Polo. All keepers.
A faded-black T-shirt with a peeling Monster Truck appliqué doesn’t make the cut. It’s tossed onto the rubber conveyor belt and slowly makes its way to the top of the baler, where it joins other salvage items: clothes, linens, stuffed animals and shoes that aren’t suitable for Goodwill stores. This assortment of good but not salable items is compressed and sold in bulk in other countries, at pennies on the dollar. One of Goodwill’s biggest buyers is Malaysia, where the bales are broken down, re-sorted and resold.
This is the heart of Goodwill Industries of Southwest Florida, a nonprofit, multimillion-dollar organization that serves Charlotte, Collier, Hendry, Glades and Lee counties. A major employer in Southwest Florida, with more than 700 employees in 2006, its mission is "helping people with disabilities and other disadvantages overcome barriers to employment and independence." At the processing plant at the headquarters in North Fort Myers, a mix of people, some with physical or mental disabilities, sort and package the donations that come in from across the region.
Quoyastine "Q" Moore is one of Goodwill’s success stories. A Chet Perry Achiever of the Year, she is bubbly and effusive with an air of intelligent efficiency. It’s hard to imagine this bright, attractive young woman ever had trouble getting a job.
But in 2000, Q’s life was headed in a different direction. Arrested on drug charges, she served 10 months in prison on a felony conviction. When she was released, she wanted a steady job with regular hours and benefits for her children.
After submitting 39 job applications without response, she went to Goodwill, referred by a friend. Q met with a job placement counselor, was interviewed and hired the same day.
Today, she works at the Goodwill headquarters in North Fort Myers in the donations department. In her spare time, she founded Path of Light, a nonprofit organization that mentors young women at risk of becoming teenage mothers.
The local Goodwill, incorporated more than 40 years ago, has expanded its reach and services far beyond its familiar thrift stores, with its iconic blue-and-white logo. Today, its programs and services extend from job training and charter schools for disabled youth to transportation and housing.
While trying to move away from an image as a thrift-store operator, Goodwill Industries of Southwest Florida nevertheless relies on resales, the backbone of its funding. Resales brought in more than $12 million in 2006, accounting for 80 percent of the organization’s income. Most of the merchandise for the stores comes from donations; Goodwill receives 17 million pounds of donated items a year. The majority come here, to the main processing plant in North Fort Myers, where they are sorted, salvaged and redistributed. About two-thirds of the donated items go to the retail stores.
Cathy Chezem, one of the women working on the sorting and baling line, was referred to Goodwill through a vocational rehabilitation program, which helps people with disabilities enter the workforce. Goodwill was the rare employer that looked beyond her disabilities and offered her a job, and she’s learned to handle a lot of tasks at the facility. "I do everything," she tells me.
During a break, I sit and talk with Maggie Turner and John Campbell, two Goodwill donations center veterans, as the two good-naturedly tease each other. While disabilities lead some to Goodwill, for Campbell, it’s a reprieve from retirement. The camaraderie makes it "the best place I ever worked," says Turner. "It’s just like we’re all related here."
The most memorable items they’ve seen in the donations line? A signed Jimmy Buffett book is the first thing to come to mind.
"The 1964 Beatles album, Meet the Beatles!" says Campbell, looking a little wistful. "It was in excellent condition."
Both the album and the book were pulled from the usual distribution process and delivered to Goodwill’s online auction site, www.shopgoodwill.com, a treasure-trove of unique and valuable items.
It's the brick-and-mortar thrift stores that bring in the bulk of the nonprofit’s operating budget. To keep that revenue stream steady, Goodwill stores in Southwest Florida are getting a makeover.
Brian Itzkowitz, Goodwill’s vice president of retail operations, is responsible for the new look, which he found in Goodwill stores on Florida’s East Coast. With a degree in international finance and marketing from the University of Miami, Itzkowitz, who has an autistic son, worked for years for Hollywood Video, Blockbuster and Rite Aid before leaving the corporate world in 1998 for the nonprofit sector.
The stores now emphasize organization and aesthetics, and store employees sport Polo-style, logo-emblazoned shirts. "I want Goodwill to be like any other retail experience," he says. "This ain’t your grandma’s thrift store" is the unofficial slogan of the retail makeover.
I see why as I pull into the parking lot of the new store in Punta Gorda. Called the pièce de résistance by GWI staffers, it’s the embodiment of the direction in which Goodwill plans to take its image. A taupe exterior with bright blue awnings give the building a sleek, more contemporary appearance. Inside, the space is clean, well-organized and brightly lit, and notably lacking that distinctive thrift-store smell.
About 30 percent of Goodwill merchandise is new, in its original packaging; it buys end-of-season merchandise from local retailers at a steep discount. Innovative ideas like these are crucial for a consistent revenue stream from the thrift stores. At this store, Mossimo brand bags from Target occupy one display rack, and boxes of new golf balls and tees line an entire shelf.
"We see some pretty wild stuff in here," says Brenda Fontaine, one of the store managers, tapping her fuchsia nails against her tan arms. "The older men who come in here with their wives, sometimes they like to put on the wigs or the wedding dresses. It’s pretty funny."
She’s pulled away to tend to business, and I browse the racks, finding the usual mix of thrift-store oddities: a suede miniskirt, a hot pink jumpsuit, a mink shrug. I stop to chat with a woman combing through the racks; she’s quick to say she’s just looking. "I’m not actually shopping," she says. "My husband needs to get out and exercise, so I bring him here to walk around. If we go to the mall, I spend too much money," she adds with a wry smile.
A pair of ladies, both with designer handbags, tell a similar story. "We just came in to drop some stuff off," one says as the other nods.
Two strikes, and no "real" Goodwill shopper in sight. Even with a coat of paint and nice fixtures, some images are hard to shake.
Finally, I meet Doris Goldberg, a North Fort Myers native. She drives across the county line to visit this particular store, she says. "It’s cleaner, pleasanter."
On the way out, I shoot one more look around—a last, hopeful glance for some dusty Dali hidden in a corner—and see the donating twosome in the checkout line, a shiny purple beach chair in each hand. It seems they found something to buy after all.