It’s easy. Go into the home improvement business and vow to return all calls. That’s it. Eventually you’ll be a millionaire because you’ll be hired by default because you’re the only one that calls back. You don’t even have to be that good or handy or nice. Just call back and you’ll get the gig.
Do you know how many people I’ve hired just because they were courteous enough to return my phone call? I’ve probably invited ax murderers into my home and paid triple the going rate just because I was so damn excited someone called me back and showed up.
So to the General Contractor that hasn’t called me back about the siding. Your loss. I had big plans for you. Siding, patio, pergola, a mud room, some new supports for the porch and who knows what else I would have thought of in the mean time.
To Wacky Jerry the Cabinet Guy. You were a big pain in the ass. I had to track you down all over Mt. Airy, Maryland like a Law and Order episode. My husband went to a diner, TWICE, to get you to come and do what we paid you for. And the sad thing is, you’re an amazing carpenter. People rave about the cabinets you made for me and ask for your card. I tell them you’re a skilled craftsman. I also mention that you disappear for months, call and cancel, fuck with your customers and when it’s all over have the balls to ask for more money. Then, oddly enough, the person decides that they prefer shoddy work over shoddy customer service and hand me back your card. That’s too bad. I would have drummed up a shit-load of business for you.
You know, come to think of it, my Dad’s a handy guy. I keep telling him that he and his buddies (Dick and Mikey) need to retire down here and set up shop. All these yuppies outside the beltway with no home improvement skills would be calling them non-stop. I could be their pimp. Make them my handy-bitches and book them jobs. They’d make a killing. I’d make a killing. Hmm…it’s crazy enough to work!
But in the mean time, to all you home improvement dudes out there. Don’t mess with the moms. We’re mean. We hold grudges. We gossip. We call our friends, send emails and tell the story at parties. Your shitty reputation spreads like a cancer. And all because you couldn’t pick up the phone or fire off a quick email.
The patio guy comes next Tuesday. I hope to hell he reads blogs.