Tuesday, December 23, 2025

This is just crazy

 

Earlier this week, a customer brought in a dead Seiko Prospex chronograph. He bought it from another retailer 18 months ago—not from us. The problem was obvious: a broken stem and winding crown.

I suggested he return the watch to the original retailer, but he preferred that we do the repair. Fine by us.

We placed an order for the replacement parts on the 10th. On the 11th, Seiko shipped them. Today, they arrived in the mail.

Absolutely crazy—in the best possible way. And the cost? Less than $40 including postage. Two stems, a steel waterproof crown, and an extra crown seal.
(Andrew wasn’t sure whether the crown came with a seal, so he ordered one just in case. It turns out the crown already had one installed—still, amazing that Seiko supplies a spare part for a spare part!)
We haven’t completed the repair yet, but it’s already clear: returning this Prospex to full working order will be straightforward. Almost trivial.

The final outcome is predictable: one happy customer, a few dollars in profit, and an unbelievably quick turnaround. Another Seiko saved and ready for years of service.

You might be blown away by Seiko’s promptness, their willingness to supply parts, and their commitment to keeping the dream alive.

But you shouldn’t be.

Seiko is simply doing the most basic, most economically logical, and most customer-oriented thing a reputable watch manufacturer should do.

This is how the industry worked since the first branded watch rolled off the bench 120 years ago. Independent watch repairers were always the link between manufacturer and owner—supporting both sides, offering skill, saving time, saving money.

So why in the world can we no longer obtain parts for Rolex, Omega, JLC, Breitling—practically any modern Swiss brand?

Ask the Swiss brands, and they’ll tell you that we—Australian independent watchmakers—are too old, too dumb, and too unwilling to invest. Useless. Unnecessary. And if that insult isn’t enough, they’ll claim that by restricting access to parts, they’re protecting you from us—from our supposed incompetence and inability to serve you properly.

Of course, you know this is nonsense.

While they blame us and deny us parts, they continue ripping you off with outrageous charges, unnecessary repairs, and months-long wait times. It’s monopolistic abuse of power—and in any country that values consumer protection, it should be illegal.

Arrogant bastards.

I won’t beat around the bush: the day Seiko closes our spare parts account will be the last day of my watchmaking career. Not because Seiko repairs keep us financially afloat, but because everyone else has beaten us down, ridiculed us, and stripped our dignity to the point where losing Seiko would simply be the end of the road.

I only hope that what we offer Seiko continues to be seen as valuable. That our relationship continues and grows. That Seiko becomes an even stronger player in the Australian market, and that you keep enjoying fine Japanese watchmaking—proudly wearing a Seiko.

One thing is certain, proven over the past decade: we are not dumb, too old, or unwilling to invest. On the contrary—we are young, extremely smart, and fully capable of making anything from a single tiny watch part to complex space-grade devices.

And you know this. And that’s what matters.

Thank you, Seiko—and a very Happy and Merry New Year.                         

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