This article appears in the November 2010 issue of Louisville Magazine. To subscribe, please visit loumag.com [4].
It might seem strange that Eric Ronay remembers the exact model of his first cell phone (“a Samsung SGH-R225M,” he says) but then again, not everybody works in a warehouse that stores thousands of them, from BlackBerrys to those “Gordon Gekko bricks.” When people upgrade to a new phone — oftentimes in two years or less — Eco-Cell, the company Ronay runs with his wife Lindsey, buys the “outdated” version and resells it to a third-party buyer in the states or China. It’s a market that Ronay, 40, says has grown 50 percent since 2003. This year Eco-Cell has taken in more than 65,000 phones from all over the country, and the goal for 2011 is 100,000. “I’ve seen every type of phone; what people get rid of is just astounding to me,” he says, digging through the contents of a storage bin. “See, here’s an iPhone.”
To answer your question: Of course nobody wants a Gordon Gekko antique. That’s where Eco-Cell differs from its competitors across the nation. While some companies won’t accept worthless phones, Ronay takes it all (accessories and batteries, too) and, at a cost to his business, recycles what he can’t sell, keeping toxins out of landfills. “We’re like a sausage factory,” he says. “We use everything but the squeal.” He has recruited some 120 zoos nationwide, including the Louisville Zoo, to set up drop-offs for phones, which raise money for causes such as gorilla conservation. On eco-cell.org, where you can request a shipping label, there is an option to donate what your old phone is worth (values fluctuate monthly but do not expect more than $50) to a charity.
Ronay’s father, a “serial entrepreneur,” started Eco-Cell in 2003, and Ronay, between IT jobs, soon started working with his dad. He has been owner since ’06. Eco-Cell has collected a half-million phones so far, and six months ago the company moved out of a basement and into its Mellwood Avenue warehouse. The plan is to bring on his wife full-time and expand into what used to be a bourbon-bottling plant next door. “We don’t have any investors or venture capital,” Ronay says. “We’re a 21st-century mom-and-pop.”
And there’s at least one hidden job perk: “I know where to go if I need a new phone,” he says.
Photo: John Nation