The Value of Time

There once was a man whose sole passion in life was Rolls Royces. He was an upholsterer and did a fine upholstery business out of his garage behind his house. As he worked on the interior of Rolls Royce automobiles over the years, he developed a fascination with them and came to own a couple of his own through rebuilds of crashed frames, scrap parts, and auction material, though he was a man of humble means. This man was a mechanically adept artist. His passion was upholstery, but working on the
engines soon became the more intensive effort. Since he possessed the unique ability to upholster the interiors of the crashed Rolls Royce’s to full restoration specifications quickly, he took advantage of the chance to educate himself through experience by rebuilding the motors. After many years of this, there wasn’t a part on a Rolls Royce that this man couldn’t identify or fix. Any year, model, size, color, or style - he knew the Rolls Royce motors so well that, more often than not, he could hear the problem with an engine before he even looked at it (I bet you know mechanics like this). As his reputation grew, many Rolls Royce owners would bring their cars to him for maintenance and repair.

He told me one evening after hours, a man called to say he was bringing a car over. An hour later, he was standing in his driveway and, as usual, heard the problematic car coming from several blocks away. He had diagnosed the problem and the solution by the time the flawed Rolls Royce arrived. He waved to the gentleman inside and instructed him to open the hood, not to bother to get out; it would just be a couple of minutes. Sure enough, less than two minutes later the problem was fixed and the owner delighted. The man said, “That’ll be $500.00.” To which the shocked owner replied, “You can’t possibly charge me $500.00 for two minutes’ work!” And my friend leaned into the window of the car, reached for the switch and turned off the motor. As he removed the keys from the ignition, he stood up and winked at the gentleman, and just before pocketing the keys and walking away said, “You’re right. Call me in a week.”

This gets me to thinking about the diagnostic event in flat-rate contracting. If it looks too easy to the customer, how much value does it have? Ask the questions you think you already know the answers to, and watch how customers begin to follow you like the pied piper.

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