709. Deep Dive: It's Never Just Another Service Call

So I want you to just picture a scenario for a second. It's a scenario that pretty much every homeowner either has faced or, you know, absolutely dreads facing.

Yeah. The ultimate summer nightmare.

Right, exactly. So it's the middle of August. The sun is just beating down on your roof. Yeah. You walk past the thermostat in your hallway and the display reads like 82 degrees and you can actually see it actively climbing to 83.

That is just the worst feeling.

It really is. The air conditioning has just completely completely quit. So you make that frantic phone call and then, well, the wait begins. You're standing by the front window, you're sweating, and you're just desperately looking for a service van to pull into your driveway.

Just counting the minutes.

And I really want you to think about your mindset in that exact moment. You aren't just hot, you are handing over the keys to your home's comfort and, let's be honest, a pretty significant chunk of your wallet to a total stranger.

It's an incredibly vulnerable position for a homeowner really, because you're entirely dependent on whatever philosophy, whatever mood, and whatever training the person stepping out of that van happens to possess that day.

Exactly.

And frankly, in the modern home service industry, that is a massive gamble.

Which brings us to the actual source material for today's deep dive.

Yeah.

We are looking at this really fascinating internal company memo written by a guy named Derek Cole.

Yeah, he's got quite the resume.

He does. He spent over 25 years in the HVAC industry, you know, heating, ventilation, and air conditioning. He actually started out turning wrenches in the field, and now he's the general manager and co-owner of, of a major franchise, Simmons One Hour Heating and Air Conditioning.

Right. And this memo was originally a private message to his technicians, but our goal today is to kind of flip the script on it.

We want to evaluate this entirely from your point of view, the homeowner's perspective.

Because unpacking the difference between a simple mechanical repair and genuine service, it's huge, right?

When you understand the internal operating standard of an elite company like this, it completely changes what you should demand the next time a repair professional knocks on your door.

Absolutely. And to really set the stage for what elite service looks like, we actually have to examine why the standard home repair experience so often feels, well, miserable.

It really does.

If you look at the economics and just the psychology of the home service industry over the last decade, it has become highly, highly transactional.

Yeah, it often feels like a fast food drive-through, like you're a broken box. They have a tool, they fix the box, you swipe your card and they vanish.

That's a perfect analogy. And that transactional feeling is a direct result of the industry's business model. I mean, many home service companies operate on strict volume, right?

They have to hit those numbers.

Exactly. The dispatch board is essentially treated like a game of Tetris. Technicians are evaluated on how many calls they can clear in a single shift. And when your overarching metric is speed, the homeowner ceases to be a human being.

You know, you just become an obstacle in the schedule, right?

The goal is simply get in, swap the part, get out.

So as a homeowner, I am basically feeling the downstream effects of a spreadsheet-driven business model. How does this memo from Cole actually attempt to rewrite that specific dynamic?

Well, Cole introduces this mandatory psychological shift before his technicians even step out of their vehicles. His core directive states that when a technician pulls into a driveway, they are not allowed to view it as just another service call.

Which sounds nice in theory.

But he takes it further. They are instructed to look at the house and imagine it is their mother's house. Or, you know, their grandmother's house.

Okay. I have to push back on that a little bit. I mean, it sounds like a great quote for a motivational poster in a break room.

Yeah.

But is that actually scalable?

What do you mean?

Well, can a technician running their, let's say, 6th call of the day crawling out of a 130-degree attic, can they genuinely maintain the standard of this is my mom's house?

It is incredibly difficult, which is exactly why it's presented as a strict operational standard, not just a casual suggestion. Pole uses the specific terminology an analogy of being relational rather than transactional.

Okay, relational.

Right. If you're treating a house like your mother's, the fundamental objective totally changes. You're no longer there to just fix a piece of machinery. You are there to take care of a family.

Meaning you have to slow down.

You have to. Cole explicitly requires his team to slow down enough to actually listen to the homeowner, to educate them on the problem, and to actively encourage them. And from a homeowner's perspective, this is a radical departure from the norm.

That concept of simply slowing down to listen is so critical because I mean, when that thermostat hits 84 degrees, you are dealing with a hijacked nervous system.

Oh, totally. People are panicking, right?

The kids are cranky. Maybe you have an elderly parent in the house who is struggling to breathe and you're just terrified this is gonna cost you like $10,000.

It's a high stress environment.

Yeah. So having a technician who actually stops to absorb that stress instead of just rushing past you to the basement, It completely alters the temperature of the room, figuratively speaking.

It restores your dignity. You transition from being just a problem on the technician's route to a partner in solving a crisis.

I love that.

However, Cole is very clear that empathy alone does not cool down a house.

Obviously not.

A good attitude is the baseline, right? But the real test of this mom's house standard is how it translates into physical mechanics when things go entirely wrong.

Okay, let's dive into the mechanics then, because I am highly skeptical of how far a good attitude can actually take me.

Fair enough.

I mean, if I'm standing in my sweltering kitchen and my air conditioner needs a specific proprietary part that the manufacturer simply does not have, empathy doesn't do me any good, right? If a part is on backorder for 2 weeks, my house is still 85 degrees. Does this relational philosophy actually offer me any real physical relief in that scenario?

Based on the directives in this memo, yes, it absolutely does. Let's look at how the transactional model handles a backordered part versus the relational model.

Okay.

The standard industry response, you know, when a proprietary part is out of stock, is to just shrug, pack up the tool bag, say, "We'll call you when the shipment comes in," and drive away.

Just leaving the homeowner stranded in an oven.

Precisely. But Cole forbids that response. He poses a direct challenge to his staff. He says, "If this was your family's house and the part was on backorder, would you just leave them to sweat?" Of course not. No, you would ask yourself, "What can I do today to get them through until the factory part arrives?" Okay, but what does that look like mechanically?

If the part doesn't exist, how do you manufacture comfort out of thin air?

Well, Cole provides a really specific tactical checklist for his technicians, and the first strategy involves Universal parts.

Okay, explain that.

Modern HVAC systems are incredibly complex, and they often rely on proprietary brand-specific components like a specialized control board or a specific blower motor that basically only communicate with that brand's equipment.

So if a proprietary fan motor dies, you can't just run out and grab a generic one off the shelf at the local hardware store?

Often, no, you can't. But there are adjacent components, things like contactors or capacitors, that can sometimes be safely bypassed or temporarily swapped with universal part just to get the system operational.

Oh, interesting.

Yeah. It might not run at peak efficiency and it might not have all the fancy smart home communication features active, but it will spin the fan and blow cold air. Cole demands his technicians look for those safe temporary workarounds.

So he's essentially demanding that his technicians do the job twice.

Basically, yes.

I mean, they do a temporary stopgap fix on a Tuesday just to cool the house down, knowing full well they have to come back the following Wednesday to rip that temporary part out and install the permanent factory component.

And that right there is the core of the relational model, because in a volume-driven, private equity-backed service company, doing a job twice is a cardinal sin because it ruins your efficiency metrics, right? Exactly. It ruins metrics and costs the company time and money. But Cole argues that, look, you cannot control supply chains, you cannot control shipping delays, but you can control your effort.

That's a huge distinction. Let's talk about another one of those stopgap mechanics. The memo mentions recharging the refrigerant while waiting on a coil. Explain the physics of why that matters to me as a homeowner.

Sure. So a very common failure is a microscopic leak in the evaporator coil. The refrigerant, which is essentially the lifeblood of the cooling process, just slowly escapes.

And without it, the air conditioner just blows warm room air.

Right. And replacing that coil often takes days because it has to be ordered to match the exact dimensions of your furnace.

And the standard industry response is, you know, "You have a leak. I can't fix it until the coil arrives on Friday. See you then." Exactly.

But Cole's standard requires the technician to ask if they can recharge the system today.

But wait, mathematically, isn't that a losing battle? If you put new refrigerant into a leaking coil, it's just going to leak out again. It's not an actual fix.

It's not a fix.

It's like putting air into a tire with a nail in it.

That's a beautiful analogy. It is exactly like that. But if you put enough air in that tire, it might just get you down the highway to the repair shop.

Oh, I see.

If a technician recharges a leaking AC system, that fresh refrigerant might slowly bleed out over the next 48 to 72 hours. But what happens during those 48 hours?

The house cools down. The kids can sleep.

Right. The homeowner gets a weekend of peace instead of a weekend of total misery. Mm-hmm. Cole notes that the customer does not care about the complexities of shipping logistics.

They really don't.

What they care about is that their elderly parent is comfortable tonight. So recharging a leaking system is mechanically inefficient, yes, but it is deeply human. It transforms the technician from a mechanic into a caregiver for the home's environment.

Man, when you lay it out like that, the universal parts, the temporary recharges, the willingness to do the job twice, it really changes the dynamic from feeling like you are fighting a contractor to feeling like you have an advocate.

Exactly.

They're acting like an ER doctor trying to stabilize you rather than just scheduling a surgery for next month and leaving you in pain.

That shift from adversary to advocate is the ultimate goal. But, you know, it brings us to a very pragmatic question regarding the economics of this business model.

The elephant in the room. Who is paying for this?

Right.

Because I'm listening to this and I hear a company prioritizing intense, time-consuming, customized problem solving.

Which is not cheap.

No. Yeah. That requires highly trained technicians who can think critically on their feet. Requires multiple visits to the same house. As a homeowner, I have to assume I am paying a premium for this relational experience. Is the math actually worth it for me?

Well, Cole does not hide from the financial reality of this standard. In the memo, he tells his team point blank, that's why we aren't the cheapest, and that's okay.

Wow. That is a refreshing level of transparency. I mean, you rarely hear a company admit internally or externally that they are the expensive option.

It's true, but it forces a homeowner to evaluate what they are actually purchasing. If your only goal is to find the lowest possible quote to just swap out a piece of metal, you are actively inviting a transactional relationship because the company offering the cheapest rate can only afford to offer that rate by relying on high volume and speed. Exactly. Meaning they're going to rush. And if there is a complication like a backordered part, you are completely on your own because they have to get to the next call to break even for the day.

That makes perfect sense.

Cole unpacks the homeowner's true return on investment when they pay a premium. He tells his technicians that they deliver value far beyond the physical equipment.

So you aren't just paying for an AC repair.

No, you are buying an insurance policy on your own peace of mind. You are paying for the absolute certainty that if something goes sideways, the person in your attic is gonna stop at nothing to figure out a temporary solution so your family can sleep comfortably.

It is the difference between buying a commodity and buying a service. And we know this philosophy actually works in practice, not just in theory, right?

Oh, absolutely.

The source text notes that under this leadership model, this specific location was named the 2024 Franchise of the Year for the entire One Hour System nationwide. Cole himself was in the News Top 40 Under 40, featured in Entrepreneur magazine, and he shared home comfort advice on CBS, FOX, NBC, HuffPost, Bloomberg, the list goes on.

It's impressive.

It is. You don't win national business awards and get that kind of press if you're constantly bleeding money on inefficient temporary repairs. You win them because this level of trust creates a customer base that will just never call anyone else.

It builds ironclad loyalty. And the way Cole closes his memo to his team highlights exactly why that loyalty is earned in the first place.

How does he close it?

He addresses the physical toll this job takes. He writes, I know it's hot. I know you're tired. I know you're giving everything you've got, but this is where championship teams separate themselves.

That really drives home the reality of the service industry, because when my AC dies in the dead of August and it's 100 degrees outside, the technician pulling into my driveway has likely been working 12-hour days all week.

Oh, easily.

I am getting them at their absolute worst moment physically. They are exhausted.

But the championship team standard demands that they operate at their absolute best professionally, regardless of the fatigue.

Right.

Anybody can provide good customer service on a sunny 70-degree day in October when the schedule is light. True elite service is maintaining that mom's house standard when the conditions are punishing.

It's about showing up when it's hard.

Cole tells them that every single call is an opportunity to serve and every customer is someone's family.

So if we pull all of this together, what does this actually mean for you listening to this right now? It means that you should fundamentally elevate your expectations. The next time a service van pulls into your driveway, the baseline shouldn't just be a fixed machine. You should look for a professional who views your home relationally. You should expect someone who actively strategizes ways to ease your stress, someone who communicates clearly, and someone who treats your time and comfort as if it were their own families.

This memo really is a masterclass in applying deep empathy to a heavily commoditized industry. And, you know, I think there is a broader application here beyond just hiring a contractor.

Oh, for sure.

We've spent this time exploring how a relational over transactional mindset totally redefines a blue-collar service visit. But I challenge you to examine your own professional life. Think about the daily transactions you engage in. The clients you manage, or the products you build. How would the value of your own work transform if you treated every single person you served as if you were walking into your own family's home?

That is the perfect question to leave hanging in the air, because whether you are navigating a crisis in your living room or providing a service in your own career, the standard remains the same. The real value is never just about the equipment or the product. It is always about how you take care of the people.