The Aftermath of the Car Crash

Great Scott! Not another vehicle!

Bright and early on Valentine’s Day, I got a panicked call that a car had been driven into III Forks Steakhouse the night before. That’s a location we service regularly. When I arrived on site fifteen minutes later, I found a pulverized front wall, a double front door smashed through, and damage in a corner dining room. Quickly I called the facility’s management company five states away.

“This is a disaster,” I told the person on the phone. “The entire entry is destroyed. Danny [the proprietor] says they have 400 reservations tonight, the first round starting at 5 p.m.”

“Can you get it put back together?”

“Of course we can. Do I have approval to start?”

“How much will it cost?”

“No idea. It’s a huge mess. I can’t even see what I have to work with until I get into it.”

“Can you call us with an estimate?”

“Look, this is a war zone,” I said. “We have less than seven hours to get these people put back together so romance can begin at their tables tonight. Once we start, I won’t have a moment to spare. You’ll just have to trust me to get this job done and be fair.”

“OK, proceed with the work.”

Preventing Broken Hearts

How does that cherubic little guy manage all those arrows? I love playing Cupid and I love a challenge. But my difficulties had just begun. Now I had to figure out how to prevent the rafters from falling on sweethearts in less than eight hours.

Problem #1 — Staff: I had no staff. No crews on call.

Solution: Start calling hands. See what can be rescheduled. Pull all workers to the job, whether they’re needed or not. Avoid alienating our other customers.

Problem #2 — Trash:  A huge pile of twisted metal, broken tile, smashed gypboard, and splintered mahogany paneling. We’re downtown, across from City Hall, with debris all over the sidewalk. As soon as we start, we’ll be held responsible for trash in the public right of way.

Solution: Call Dirty Works Services to bring a crew and haul off the mountain.

Problem #3 – Building Permit: One is required. It usually takes three weeks to get a commercial permit.

Solution: Call Werner Campbell, WC Permits, to get started on it right away, and pray for leniency from code enforcement. Those fines can be steep.

So I called for the trash haul. Then I summoned my four crews, got them to rearrange their schedules, and asked my stalwart band to show up as soon as possible. Next I ordered material, just guessing what we’d need.

The Show Must Go On

Meanwhile, great excitement was brewing at the restaurant. TV and newspaper crews had set up, taking pictures and shooting video. Danny Payne, III Forks boss, asked me if we could do it.

“’Cause if you can’t,” he said, “we can always use the side door.”

“Are you kidding?” I practically yelled.  “This is Valentine’s Day! You want guys who are taking their sweethearts to a high-class joint going in the side door? Inconceivable! We’ll be out of here by 4 o’clock.”

Of course, I had no idea how we were going to deliver – I just knew we had to. And you know what I was thinking? Show biz. I have three kids in various types of entertainment work, and the first thing they were taught was: The show must go on. For most men, especially those with reservations at III Forks tonight, February 14 is the biggest show of the year. The second thing I learned from show biz was — it’s all about the look at a glance. Essentially, we had to build a set that looked like the III Forks entrance — with granite tile and big fancy doors on steel and gypboard — but nothing about it would be structural. None of it.

At Your Battle Stations, Men

It took over an hour for crews to arrive. We had less than six hours left. Rapidly they tore into the twisted steel and dangling sheathing. A 14-foot 500-pound steel panel teetered, held up by only a random metal stud. We were eight men in a space less than 200 square feet, cutting steel, climbing ladders, and carrying debris. By 1 p.m., we had the demolition done. Now we could see what we had to do.

“Gentlemen,” I announced, “we have three hours.”

Here’s what I long ago learned about management. As the leader, you make your ridiculous declaration: “We’re going to rebuild this thing and be out of here by 4 p.m.” One or two workers will laugh, but mostly they’ll say “OK,” shrug their shoulders, and get to work. None of them actually think it’s possible. More schedules slide than stick. The workers fall in, but they don’t believe.

By 2 p.m., we had the framing up, ready for the skin. The original outside wall was shiny black granite tile. My solution: plywood, painted shiny black. If you have a beautiful woman on your arm, are you really going to notice whether it’s plywood or granite in the dark?

My permit specialist called, saying he was working on the permit but needed to know a few things. How many stories does the building have? Are there sprinklers? What is the cost? What about structural damage? I gave him the answers, not really believing he could pull it off. He called three more times with equally inane questions.

An officer was just putting a ticket on my windshield for an expired parking meter. I fed the meters and asked him to cut us a little slack for the rest of the day,

“We’re just trying to get this place opened for their big night,” I pleaded. He said he wouldn’t come back around.

Code enforcement stopped by — very nice, cooperative, but asked if we had a permit.

“This is an emergency,” I tried to say calmly. “We’ve been here since early this morning, and they have a huge crowd coming. But I do have a man downtown chasing a permit.”

Now, I didn’t think we had a prayer of getting it. I’ve talked myself out of traffic tickets, however, and thought I had a good case. At best, I was hoping for leniency.

“Who you got working on the permit?” he asked. “I’ll call down there now.”

I told him, and he got right on the radio. Moments later, he told me the good news: The permit had just been issued.

Finishing the Race

By 3 p.m., the doors were set, the walls were almost closed up from the outside, and the interior was taking shape. We had one hour left, with all the cleanup and detailing still to go. I made my announcement: “Gentlemen, we have one hour.” They were starting to see a glint of success.

After Expert Service repairs - good as new!

Then we ran out of sheetrock for the entry vestibule, with no time for a materials run. Even a small gap would invite in vermin. Speedier than Cupid’s arrow, we pieced together two pieces of sheathing from the debris pile.

At 3:30, we were all but done. Cleanup was underway. The hauling company couldn’t make it, so we piled trash in every available truck.

When you get it all cleaned up, you start to see the details. The plywood needed more black paint. Since the front doors had deep gouges, we dabbed on mahogany paint. The color was too light though, so we brushed a few streaks of black paint over the wet mahogany paint. By serendipity, that created a near perfect blend. Improvise, create, succeed.

We had 15 minutes to go, and it actually looked possible. Every man fell in line to roll up our gear. It was a marvel to behold. Trucks were piled high with tools, equipment, and trash. It looked like a caravan to California. Spirits were high. Doing good work feels great. Achieving a miracle is a tremendous rush.

I shook each worker’s hand. They did us proud. Opening time was 5 o’clock. I had promised we’d be finished by 4, mostly thinking we’d have a little breathing room if we ran over. We got in our vehicles and pulled away from the curb at 3:57.

What was it Shakespeare wrote? “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

We got a bad review on line. I sat the tech down to discuss it. The customer was a touch unreasonable, but we also made a mistake, which is what sent her over the edge. So she retaliated with the review so no other single women would fall prey. It hurt.

We discussed the case. Where and when did it go wrong, and how can we learn? We found a few places to improve. Mostly the tech learned you just have to stay on your guard, all the time. Be ready for things to turn on you, and adjust quickly. This was hard for him. He’s young. He regularly draws rave reviews. He cares about his work and his customers, and it shows.

I reminded him: customer service is a cruel business. You can be the hero on Monday but the goat on Tuesday. You’re only as good as the last thing you do. Do 99 things beautifully and leave one thing bad, you and the company look terrible. Only as good as the last thing you do.

Another job, another demanding customer in a ticklish situation. At the close, the customer was going to move a piece of furniture but the tech saw that the furniture would fall apart as soon as she touched it. He took 15 minutes and fixed it, leaving it for her to find.

She called to thank him, nearly crying for the good thing he did for her.

I hope this gets me back to even, he told me, after that other job I screwed up.

Every prospect gets the same question: How did you know to call us?

Phone book, Mike said.

You mean the on-line yellow pages, I asked?

No, he said, the yellow pages.

Oh. The paper ones, like the book?

Yeah, you know, the yellow pages. Fingers walking and all that.

We discussed the work. He quickly grew confident in our capabilities and he hired us, over the phone, to do the work. Before we wrapped it up, I brought it up again. Mike, I said, you’re sure you got us from the book, the paper yellow pages?

Yes, I have it right here.

What year’s on the front of that book, Mike, if you don’t mind my asking?

Well, it says here, let me see…oh…2007.

Mike this is 2010. That explains it. I haven’t renewed my yellow pages for two years, and I haven’t sold a job from the yellow pages for at least three years. As a relevant medium, it’s become extinct.

Well, Mike said, that pretty much describes me too, I guess. I’m kind of old fashioned like that.

You don’t shop on line?

No, I can usually tell what I need to know by the way the ad is written and presented. Everything’s right here on the page. That, plus talking on the phone. I can’t do that on line or with email. I kind of like doing things different, I guess. I like the old ways.

I told him I appreciated his approach, and it made me feel good that we still exhibit old school values–trust, reliability and craft.

Mike hired us for subsequent work for the same reasons. And whenever I dropped him an email, he answered it on the phone. On the copper, that is (land line).

Imagine that, right there in Westlake–the heart of prosperity, a man with old fashion values, looking in the yellow pages, and talking on the copper. The dinosaur of Westlake.

A new prospect named Janet called in.  Hello I have a project in mind and I have a few questions.
Fire away.
Well I’ve purchased a house and I want to get some things done such as flooring and a fence and a few minor things. Is that the kind of work you do?
Yes ma’am all day every day including today. We have something like that going on right now.
She moved on with efficiency. Ok my next question is, how long is your back log.
Well ma’am I’m not sure you’ve heard but we have this little recession going on. We’re ready to go to work. It usually takes longer for the customer to make up her mind than it does for us to start. If you tell me today, we can start in a few days.
OK, good. And do you have insurance and license?
Well the short answer is yes but the long one is that there’s no requirement for a license in the state of Texas to be a general contractor except that we’re required to register with the Texas Residential Construction Commission. I have registered, which functions as a kind of license, except that the legislature killed that commission so my license means nothing. What I can tell you is we have all the insurance and all the pedigree required to do a first class job with which you will be happy.
OK, she said almost without regard for my masterful sales pitch. Do you charge to come out and give an estimate?
No ma’am.
I’m currently in DC and I’ll be moving to Austin in August. Can you look at the work and can we communicate by fax or email?
Yes ma’am we do that all the time. At any given time we have 30 jobs on the board and I rarely see every job. Many of our customers I have strong phone relationships with but I’ve never actually met. I’ve been doing work for them for years but have never laid eyes on them. We just need to know what you want and we need access to the work. When it’s done, you can stand there with your hands on your hips and say wow I had no idea it would look this good and be this easy.
Can you give a written estimate?
Ma’am you sure do ask a lot of questions.
Well I had a couple guys come out to look at this work already. I thought I’d have the work underway by now because I wanted it done when I move in in about two weeks. Unfortunately one of them didn’t have insurance and the other one refused to give me a written quote. So I’ve learned to ask more questions.
No insurance and no written quote? Where do you find these people? And where did you find me?
I found them on Craigslist. I found you on Angie’s list.
Ahhh. that explains it.

From there we made an appointment. What I learned is that if you have no investment in an ad campaign like Craigslist where it’s free, you don’t treat your customer as an investment. When you carefully select your advertising and promotional efforts and you work it with purpose, every customer is valuable.

I submitted the quote. There were three or four components. A fence, a patio, some wall repairs and some tile flooring. She said our numbers were a little higher than the other quotes she got. Maybe 10 to 20%. I did not think it was appropriate to point out the quality of the other bidders, in her own words. Rather, I took the high road and pointed out that she’s comparing my numbers as a general contractor running the show, with a bunch of tradesman that she would have to hire, run and supervise from out of town. After they run her ragged, I suggested, that small difference will look mighty cheap but by then it will be too late. For that little bit of additional money, she gets the certainty that the job will be run with her interests in mind, and she gets our whole company at her disposal.

I was certain she would hire us. However she turned us down. In the end, things were working out to be more expensive. Her move was running behind. Her husband–in the foreign service–was departing for Iraq in a couple weeks. She was overwhelmed and simply not able to make a decision. She changed her strategy and decided to live in the house first, then decide what she wants to do.

While I would have rather had the work, I agreed that her decision was a good one, so long as she doesn’t go back to Craiglist, that is.

I spoke with a longstanding customer today who asked for a price on some ductwork and possible radiant barrier, plus attic insulation. I said I recall maybe we had discussed this earlier and that I had forgotten. Oh that’s okay, he said, you were getting married and you’re in love and all that. I thanked him for making excuses for me. Deeper into the conversation the tables turned and it was my opportunity to make an excuse for him. I mentioned well you know it’s okay cause you’re in love and all that, aren’t you? Yep, he said, confidently and emphatically. Sure am. 30 years this year.

I love my job. I love the opportunity to get involved in my customers’ personal lives–at least in the areas that mean so much. How many people, in their work, get to hear a man profess his love for his wife in the middle of a chat about ductwork and insulation?

Every morning, very early, everyone who works for me secretly meets to discuss how they can ruin my day. I don’t know when or where this happens, but I know it does.

Here’s how it unfolds. On Thursday or Friday of every week I alert my customers of what they can expect in the coming week. Before I do this, I confer with my subcontractors and suppliers regarding what they have scheduled on my jobs. Then I simply package up the information and inform my customers on what they can expect. It’s a simple formula. If the carpenters or the electricians say they will have their crews on the job on Monday, and what they will do, I pass that information on to the customer. How hard can that be?

On Monday, I might say, the painters will be on site to take care of the prep and the paint. This will take a few days. On Wednesday the plumbers will install the fixtures. Thursday and Friday the tile setters and roofers come.

On Monday I call the various trades to be sure everything is in order.

Well, they say, we got behind cause of the rain so we won’t be there till Wednesday. Therefore everything rolls by two days. Never mind that it only rained for one hour on Thursday. Somehow that one hour cost two days of production. Then the plumbers say they can’t make it until Friday. Then the electricians say they can’t make it because their suppliers sent the wrong products.

And the carpet layers? They aren’t answering the phone and I can’t leave a message because their voice mail box is full.

Don’t worry, the ironworkers told me, We’ll be there on Monday. Rest assured we’ll be there and it will all be done. We had a whole bunch of other things to do today so we can’t make it. Don’t worry, I ask? But you said that last Wednesday when you said you would be here on Friday and for sure it would be done by the end of the week! I have landscapers scheduled for Monday and they can’t be moved. How can you have all kinds of other things to do on Friday when you promised you would be on my job that day? What does We’ll be there Friday mean besides being there on Friday? And if you say I can count on you for Monday, how is that different than when I could count on you for Friday–for sure?

When I called the supply house, the woman said well I ordered the commodes and they said we would have them in on Wednesday so you can schedule the work on Thursday but somehow her buyer forgot to place the order from the factory, or the factory ran out of product, and no one called until after I set the schedule with the customer.

It seems so simple. I ask the customer what they want and they answer clearly. I get commitments from the miscellaneous vendors to provide the service, and we all agree on what will be done, and when. Then each vendor secretly decides to scramble everything just so they can make me look stupid to the customer.  I can look stupid all by myself without any outside help. Why, then, do these people take such pains to make my life so difficult?

This is contracting. All of my people, by and large, are good folks. No one intends to make my life miserable. This is what I believe. Nevertheless it happens. Construction is the intersection of hope, planning, shoe-string subcontractors and last minute scrambling. It’s a marvel that anything actually gets done. It does, and in the end everyone agrees the work looks fantastic and the craft is superb. But getting there is like herding butterflies. Every one of them has his own independent path. Even the most expensive vendors fall into this pattern. We all agree on what will take place, then their foreman takes sick or another customer adds things at the last moment so they have to stay on that job for another day. A truck breaks down. Something wasn’t ordered. It’s a constant guessing game, a shuffle and a squeeze. It’s like war games where you move soldiers around on the war board with a long stick. No one knows how the battle will unfold until the guns are laid down and the smoke clears.

Each day I go to work happy that my schedule has been set out. And each day I gird my loins for the inevitable surprises. If you are a customer, you may or may never actually see this. For me, the show must go on and so we avoid purveying excuses. We do everything we can to make the schedule and keep the momentum. On a good day we have plans B and C, so there’s hardly a hiccup. Those are the good days. Other times we fall back on the next best plan. For the most part, customers stay with us, confident we’re doing everything we can in a chaotic business. After all, if they don’t like it, they could try running the Liars Club themselves. They know better, of course.

This month I fired two customers. Usually there’s about one a year but for some reason it’s been a heavy month. How can a fella fire a customer in a recession? What leads a man to such a drastic action?

About a month ago I landed a small project with a company that had a maintenance contract with a large public institution here in Austin. There was a woman named “Opal” who represented the public institution as their project manager. The job: fabricate and replace a door on an historical building. And as soon as we completed this job, there was a very large contract awaiting us in the adjacent historical building downtown.

Opal became impossible. She shot first, never asked questions. She broke protocol, she leapfrogged heirarchy and then blamed me when something didn’t match her unilaterally declared expectations. Expectation management is a big deal for me. On the day of installation, I met with her, with my customer the prime contractor, and I met with Opal’s maintenance supervisor. These were three different meetings. In each meeting I reviewed what we would do, when we would be finished and what steps we would take in our work. Opal agreed with the schedule, and then when I was off site she commandeered my technician and issued him her own instructions. I got a call the next day that he didn’t do as she had commanded. Never mind the fact that he’s deaf as a 2×4 from all his 50 odd years running power tools, and never heard her instructions. Somehow, I was to blame. That was only the beginning.

I am not a whiner and will suck it up long and hard before I break decorum. I thought about the next project, easily ten times the size of this one. I had asked my customer, the contractor, to rein her in when this behavior first surfaced. They couldn’t control her. One by one she heaped complaints on me. This, after they wrung a 20% discount out of us. I thought about the next big project and I walked away from it. I would have made a lot of money. And then I’d have to give it all to the attorneys and bondsmen to get me out of jail for surely I would have killed Opal. Sometimes it’s best to leave the building before it crashes down on you, as this relationship surely would have done.

The other customer I fired this month hired us to replace a gas line in her rental property. I explained the terms and that this work is very tricky. I gave her an outline of what could be expected. It was an old house. The gas lines had major, unknown leaks. The plumbers worked diligently to find the leaks and save her from the distinct possibility of disaster had the leaks not been found and repaired. The customer had waited, despite our discussing this for months, until two days before her new tenants moved in. The work took four days. There was nothing we could do once the ship had launched. We had no choice but to complete the work, get it inspected and thereby declare the house, the tenant and the landlord safe. When we received payment, the customer short-payed us, explained by a two page letter which I did not read. There is no excuse for not paying a bill.

A year ago this customer had a lightning strike. Her husband was out of town. We fixed up her house in three days. Previous to that we were there any time they needed us for large and small problems. We had a history. I was insulted that this customer, after everything we’ve done for her and her husband, would short pay us with a letter. What happened to a phone call to ask questions? What about working out problems together? To declare unilaterally what you’re willing to pay, to claim they knew the value of the work (and we had given a discount) especially after the trouble we went through to solve her serious gas line problems–that’s beyond the pale. Bad sportsmanship.  She’s Fired!

“Paul, this is a blessed house. My parents lived here with me for several years. We had many wonderful times together. I brought my wife home to start a family, and we are raising our children here. God has blessed me in this house.” It was said with heart, and a deep sense of family. He said it with pride and a strong sense of place. But he also had big circles under his eyes. He had not been sleeping well. We were three months into a remodel and he had just crossed the threshold of remodel weariness. It happens with almost every job, every customer and every contractor. We all swear it won’t happen–this time, all contractors swear, we’ll keep the project fresh and the customer will be so pleased. But any time you tear up a person’s home, you fill it up with dust, and you place the household under significant change in regimen, remodel weariness is almost inevitable.

Most people, when they reach this stage, resign themselves to the discomfort and the hassle. They just ride it out knowing even an endless remodel must surely conclude. This customer, however, was different. His home was so precious to him, and its place in the structure of his life so critical, that he was determined to preserve and protect. “Paul, I want you to do everything you can to help me preserve the sanctity of my home. I don’t want any bad feelings in my home. I want only goodness and happiness.”

His request was courageous and exactly appropriate. Some tension had arisen between him and some of the workers. Mostly it was misunderstanding, some of it was carelessness, some of it was a result of minor protocol violation. None of it was serious and there was no threat to his safety or to the quality of the work. What he was talking about, however, was just as important as safety, and just as long-lasting as quality work. He was talking about the feeling of a home. How you feel in your home is more important than any color, any trim detail, any high end finish. To have a blessed home is to believe nothing is more important in your life than a sense of belonging, a sense of family safety and a sense of loving community in the building that is your home.

I felt like we were already doing everything we could. But when a man expresses such emotion, such earnest dedication, you crank up your commitment a few notches. We devoted ourselves to more communication. We revised our schedule to accommodate some of his concerns, and the whole team rededicated itself to preserving the “spirit” of the project. The project “mood” quickly changed for the better. Problems were solved. The work progressed nicely. His house remained blessed.