Family owned. Barely operated.
Played college football. Things were looking good. Then the knee. Now he does his best strategic thinking in the driveway: 30 minutes in the truck, mapping a route from the front door to a beer with zero questions asked.
Hobbies: the truck. The driveway. Sad songs on the radio.
Married one of the owners back when he was doing alright. She answers the phones. Her main job, from what anyone can tell, is flirting with guys in unlaced Timberlands.
Be nice to Hailey. She controls the schedule. Allegedly.
Technician. Toe situation. We don't talk about the toe situation. Or the other thing.
"It's one of the better ones our guys have."
Smokes openly around you and your family. Gives your 9-year-old unsolicited life advice from the bottom of a ladder.
Will not be holding the ladder.
Wears one of those shirts that doesn't fully cover the belly. Lot of hair down there. Belly hair? Something else? No one knows.
Science is still out.
Cool guy. You'll like him. Photo not available because, frankly, we don't see him either.
Last seen: your driveway, once.
The big HVAC companies don't do this kind of stuff. They hide it. We put it on the website, in a bold font.
We'll tell you from the beginning: this whole process is going to be a nightmare.
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