A finished manual

This is what fifteen minutes buys.

Ray is not a customer. This is what the tool wrote when the twenty-four questions were answered the way a nineteen-person plumbing company would answer them. Yours comes out in your words, about your company, and you can change any line before anyone reads it.

Read the eight lines in large type first. That is the whole thing in about a minute.

Beyond 10 Million Sample

Working with Ray

This is how I work and what I need from you. Some of it you already know. Some of it nobody has ever said out loud. Read it once, and come back to it the first time something feels off between us.

Why I do this

My dad plumbed for other people his whole life and never owned anything. I own this.

My dad was a plumber for 31 years and never owned a truck with his own name on it. He got laid off at 58 from a company he gave everything to. Two weeks notice. I was 24.

Every truck with the name on it, every job done right, every person still drawing a paycheck through a slow month. That is what this is.

What to bring me

Bring me the stuck problems, the hard calls, and the work that is about to go sideways.

When nobody can find the way through, that is my door. When the technical problem is the kind most people hand off, I can still get in and do it myself. When a relationship with a customer is breaking, come get me.

I move fast on small things and slow on people and money. I trust my gut when I know the work, and I usually know the work.

  • We do it right or we do it again, because the work is the only thing with your name on it
  • I have carried people through slow stretches that cost me real money, and I would do it again
  • Nobody gets left holding the bag alone
What I am not

I will interrupt you. I know I do it. I am not trying to take over, I just get impatient watching.

That impatience has cost me. I had a guy named Marcus, best drain tech I ever had. I kept stepping in on his jobs because I could do it faster. He left in 2019 and told me on his way out that he never once felt like I trusted him.

I did trust him. I just never let him find out.

I grab the wheel mid-task. I take things back. I can be late to things I said were important. I do not say thank you out loud the way I should. My temper shows. None of that is going away on its own.

Me under pressure

When I go short and start showing up everywhere, that is pressure, not a verdict on the work.

The patience goes first. My answers get shorter, the jokes stop.

Then I start checking work I would normally leave alone, even from people I trust. Then I take things back: jobs, decisions, whole departments.

You will see it before I say it. When those tells stack up:

  • Bring me a win, any size
  • Let me get my hands back in the actual work
  • Leave me alone about work outside of work hours

It passes.

How to read me

If I did not say do it, I am still thinking. Ask me before you build anything.

When I go quiet, I am either frustrated and do not trust what I would say yet, or I am working through it before I bring it to the room. Give it room.

When something is real, it comes with a who and a when. Everything else is me thinking out loud.

Late messages are when my head is quietest. I do not expect an answer until work hours. If I need you right then, I will call.

Silence is fine when things are on track. I need a heads-up before anything hits a customer, and being stuck more than a day counts as news.

Working with me

The day it happens, straight, no cushion. Late surprises are the real sin.

Bring bad news the day it happens, even half-formed. The wind-up is worse than the news. If a customer is involved, interrupt me.

To change my mind: say it plainly, once, and catch me one on one. I argue first and come around by morning. I dig in when there is an audience. On people and money, I am final. On everything else, make your case again.

After we clash, come talk to me straight, same day. I do not carry it. Work it out between us, not in front of the others.

What turns into a real problem is the issue that grew because somebody sat on it.

Thanks and friction

When I stop checking your work, that is how you know.

Trust is the reward. I also pay for it: bonuses, lunches, the good tools. And I show up for your life, the wedding, the game, the hospital. Do the job right next time. That lands.

What wears me out:

  • Excuses dressed as explanations
  • Questions whose answers already exist somewhere
  • A quick question when I am mid-thought
The deal, both sides

Tell me the truth early. I can work with almost anything I hear in time.

My side: you hear about problems with your work from me first, never secondhand.

If the company is ever in real trouble, you will hear it from me, face to face, before anything else moves. Never as a mood, a text, or a silence.

The messenger is always safe when bad news comes straight. My temper is the hardest promise on this page for me. I am working on it. Hold me to it.

Your side: own your work like your name is on the building, because to your customers it is. Do the work right when nobody is watching.

My family is off limits unless I bring them up. My bad days are not a sign of trouble coming, and a rough week does not change what I think of you.

Monday ideas do not all survive to Friday. Ask me what changed. When I grab the wheel on something you are already running, I will name it in the moment.

Right now, the money side has my attention: margins, cash, what the work actually earns. I am also working on handing things over so this runs without me in every corner. Outside of work, my kids' seasons and games come first, and I am trying to get away, actually away, more than I do.

Tell me one thing in here you had already worked out on your own, and one that surprised you. I want to know what shows and what does not.

Ray

Now yours

Twenty-four questions, about fifteen minutes, nothing to look up. You see your two pages the moment you finish.

You read yours on screen before anything is asked of you. Handing it out needs an email: print, PDF, or a copy you can send your crew.