Dear God’s Gift to Service Managers
Hardly anyone uses the Simpson 260 anymore. It went away about the time you came inside to be a service manager. Back in the day you were the best. You were a gunslinger. You’d dismount the Ford Econoline, pull out a match stick, strike it off one of your Red Wings and light up a Winston. With the sun beating down on your back and roasting the building’s occupants alive, you’d look on thinking, this building is no match for you. Forty minutes later as you walked away from the now-cooling-off-building and a line of secretaries scrambled after you to get your phone number, you allowed a brief smile to crease your five o’clock shadow and thought, I will dominate the next service meeting with this story. No one else could have brought this chiller back online so fast, no one!
In your mind no one could ever hold a candle to you. Heck you were a legend. Twenty years of stories pushed you into the service manager’s job. But soon, life began to change. It started with the walls. You never had to deal with walls out on the range. And all of the admin assistants and secretaries, where were they? And smokes. What’s up with not being able to light up when you so please? And the facility managers. The ones who used to line up to kiss your boots. And the company owner. He wasn’t drooling over your magnificent mechanical abilities. He was spitting over the botched up service call that Joe just ran. Why was he foaming at the mouth and mad at you. Heck, you didn’t short out that building’s control system. And what’s up with not being able to run a few errands during the middle of the day?
What’s going on with the service techs? Back in the day, your service manager left you alone. Everyone knew why. You represented the company well and brought in barrels of money. This gave you license to use your mouth and ego in whatever way seemed to work for you at that particular moment. No one could touch you. Now you can’t leave your techs alone. They show up late, don’t fix things, don’t talk to the customers, don’t do paperwork correctly, don’t wear the uniform, don’t keep their trucks clean and don’t seem to care about their job. Back in the day you were known as a bad ass and everyone listened to you, or else. Today, they make milking-the-cow gestures behind your back and promise you the world to your face…and then go right back to the cow gestures when you turn around.
Yes, one day you were God’s gift to service technicians. You were the best tech on the planet. But now you are the service manager and God’s gift to you is the opportunity to help others. Use your gift wisely.
