CHANGE IS COMING AND BILL TANNER’S A LITTLE NERVOUS ABOUT THE FUTURE OF FIXED OPS. THEN AGAIN, ANOTHER FRANCHISE OPPORTUNITY IS ALWAYS TEMPTING
So this is the future. And I’m not talking distant future; I’m talking maybe eight minutes from now. The young turk with the retro sideburns is actually growing on me. I always like people who are enthusiastic about what they do. This kid is positively evangelical. This kid. He’s probably 35.
“It’s all in this,” he says, holding up a thumb drive he’s had the foresight to emblazon with the Tanner Group logo. “Bill, we have revolutionized service.”
He slides the gold and blue logo’d bit of electronic flotsam across the table with one hand, simultaneously flagging down the server with the other. He smiles at me, motions to my beer and raises an eyebrow in question.
“Sure,” I say, and he holds up two fingers to the approaching waitress. She nods and retreats, and I find myself holding the drive up to the sun and squinting at it, as if I’m trying to decipher something through an envelope.
“Wow,” I say, and for one absurd moment I feel a sentimental lump rise in my throat. It’s like another planet. I think back to my dad’s day, which was practically singing bellhops and twirling bowties compared to this. This is hardcore techie stuff, barely a human required.
LESS SERVICE, MORE IT
My service department has been using diagnostic keys for a couple of years, but I was pretty determined to resist Pinnacle Service. Subcontracting + automation = no more service jobs at Tanner Group, and some of these guys had been with me since the beginning. Now I’m not so sure. The whole business has changed. Seems like the job is less and less for service technicians and more and more for IT nerds.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But the youngsters don’t want to fix cars, exactly — they want to program computers. It’s fascinating stuff, but boy, you barely need to know how to wield a wrench anymore.
The sales side is different, too, of course, but this is really a revolution. Guys like Fred Hurd, who used to just come in and hang around, drink my coffee and talk parts with the guys, well, they won’t have anywhere to go.
“So,” I say, just needing to say it all out loud. “The driver puts this in the in-car port, and it transmits any issues directly to your office. He gets a text from there outlining the recommended course of action. He says no, and gets assorted other options offered to him.
He says yes, and his calendar and your service bays’ calendar talk to each and schedule the car in for service.
“One of your drivers picks it up and delivers it for service after he’s done with it for the day, and nine times out of 10, you’ve got it back in his driveway the following morning.”
“Yup, that’s about it, Bill,” the kid says, thanking the server with a gesture and hoisting his beer.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I say and we clink. I take a drink right from the bottle, relishing the icy liquid on the hot patio. Too bad these brainiacs can’t do anything about making summer longer.
NO TIME, NO FUSS
“Plus, anytime the client wants to know anything about the car, they just plug this into the dash and it uploads all their information to us. We send them a health report minutes later,” he says. “If it looks like they’re going to need a part anytime soon, we make sure it and the necessary tools are on hand. No muss, no fuss, no waiting around drinking coffee.”
“And what’s in it for me?” We’ve been through the details a couple of times now, but if I’m going to subcontract my service department to this company, I’d like to hear it one more time.
“You sell them the maintenance contract. That’s all yours. That’s just to encourage them to plug in regularly. We suggest to our clients that they require a plug-in at least once a week to maintain the contract. If there’s service work to be done, we split it.”
“And what do I do with my service techs?”
“How many you got left?” To his credit, he looks genuine, like he appreciates the question. I shrug.
ALWAYS LOOKING
“We’re expanding all the time, Bill. We’re always looking for good technicians. The older guys, you buy them out.” He sips from his beer. “It’s our experience that most of them are about ready to go anyway. The younger guys, we can even help get them certified. The Master Electric designation is still growing. Telematics are too. Hybrids are still pretty steady. Of course, fuel cells have picked up lately, so there are opportunities there.”
“Amazing,” I say, genuinely impressed. Wish I’d thought of it. A super depot with its own staff of engineers, trainers, and highly trained technicians. The franchises are just little storefronts, with a couple of techs and an advisor — all they need is access to the online material the super depot provides — but boy, lately they’re a licence to print money. The founder went from rags to Forbes on the strength of that one little patent. Just that one little thumb drive.
He lowers his voice, leans across the table as if he’s about to share the secret of eternal youth. “We like you, Bill. If you’re interested, we could even talk about a franchise. You could keep a few of your guys that way.”
Hmm. It’s like he’s read my mind. I stare once again at the drive, still clutched in my left hand. “My wife is going to kill me.”
