By Benjamin Haugh, Founder of All Nation Restoration
The first year of All Nation Restoration was slow. Real slow.
Most of my time was spent hustling talking to plumbing companies, handing out cards, trying to generate business any way I could. I wasn’t just trying to build a company; I was trying to build one different from the one I had come from.
During my years working for a previous restoration company, I felt constant secondhand embarrassment. The crew I worked with had zero regard for professionalism especially in residential jobs. Guys would ask for tips, smoke on people’s property, talk politics and religion with homeowners, even use their bathrooms like it was their own house. And because this was the Yellow Pages era, there was almost no accountability. Homeowners had very little recourse.
As someone who values cleanliness, ethics, and respect for people’s homes, I hated every second of it.
Setting a New Standard
So when I started All Nation Restoration in Austin, I made a personal vow:
We’re going to do things differently.
I created a code of conduct. I established a dress code. I wrote up a handbook. I laid the groundwork for a company where professionalism would be the foundation. We would go above and beyond in our work and in how we treated people. And I was serious about it.
Maybe a little too serious in the early days.
Cookies, Policy, and a White Lie
It was around Christmas in Round Rock, Texas. A toilet supply line had cracked and flooded part of a home. We were on-site extracting water, pulling carpet, and setting up drying equipment. Business was finally starting to trickle in, and I was doing everything I could to enforce our new standards.
At some point during the day, the homeowner an incredibly kind woman came in with a warm plate of freshly baked cookies.
“I baked these for you guys. Would you like some?”
Now, part of our new policy at All Nation was not to accept food or sit down at a customer’s table for dinner even if offered. The way I saw it, most people offer out of courtesy, but don’t actually expect you to say yes. I wanted to avoid the old behaviors I
had seen before guys plopping down at someone’s kitchen table mid-job and I was determined to protect our professionalism.
So I said:
“No thank you, but we really appreciate it.”
She insisted again.
“I made these just for you. I’d really love for you to have one.”
Still holding the line, I politely declined again.
But on the third offer, I panicked a little. Gung-ho to stick to the new policy, and not wanting to offend her, I came up with a quick white lie:
“I would love to… but I actually have diabetes.”
Her face softened instantly.
“Oh my. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be pushy.”
Crisis averted. I glanced at my guys in the room and winked. They knew how serious I was about my new guidelines. They also knew I didn’t have diabetes.
The Cookie Karma
The next day, I showed up for routine moisture checks and equipment adjustments. As soon as the homeowner opened the door, she greeted me with a big smile and another plate of cookies.
“I hope these are good! I researched sugar-free recipes and made you some that you can eat!”
I froze.
Busted.
Caught in a lie. Trapped by cookies. And not even the good kind I can say confidently that those sugar-free cookies did not compare to the chocolate chip ones I had turned down the day before.
I smiled, thanked her, and accepted the plate. There was no way out.
The Lesson (and It’s Not About Cookies)
Looking back, I laugh every time I tell this story. It was rooted in good intentions, but definitely overzealous. I was trying so hard to build a different kind of company that I forgot to factor in one of the most important things:
People are different. Circumstances vary.
Policies and standards are crucial. But there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all approach to customer service. The heart behind our code of conduct still matters but so does wisdom. So does empathy. So does reading the room and allowing a little grace.
That day taught me to lead with professionalism, but not at the cost of humanity.
Because sometimes, people really do just want to share a cookie.
Restoring homes. Rebuilding lives.
