I thought about that a second. Back when I was with Lefleur, we often had customers who wanted a package deal, a turnkey project. I had occasionally been forced to be the general contractor myself, and I'm just not cut out for it. I can do it, but I don't enjoy it. "Okay. I'll buy that. Know any good professional builders?"
He shrugged. "Nothing rings a bell, but I can't say as I've ever looked. You can call that real estate agent and ask her if she knows any. Heck, on your drive home, just pull into one of the new developments along the way and find the sales office. Those are mostly run by a big outfit. Ask them. For what you want, you'll want a big outfit."
"Okay, maybe I'll do both. If you think of anything, let me know."
It was a long lunch, a working lunch in a lot of ways, and it was close to two when we left. On the way home, I thought about what John had said, and as I passed a development, saw a sign stating that it was part of Pulte Homes. That was a name that rang a bell. They were a big national outfit of home builders. They would certainly be capable of the job, but would they want to? I was a single house, and these guys thought in terms of hundreds and thousands of houses. Only one way to find out.
There was a young fellow in the sales office, a demo model of a split level. He seemed young, anyway, at least to me, although we were probably the same age. He simply seemed green, like he had just been hired the week before and didn't know his product or his system or his company. Well, we all have to start somewhere. "Hello! Welcome to Maplewood Manor! How can I help you?", came rushing out, almost before the door was shut behind me.
"I'd like to talk to somebody about building a house.", I replied.
"Well, I'd be happy to help you! Please have a seat." He waved me to a chair in front of him, and picked up a clipboard with a questionnaire. "First things first. Can I have your name, please?"
"Carl Buckman." I was really starting to figure that this kid wasn't the fellow I wanted to speak with. For one thing, he hadn't even introduced himself. Maybe I was supposed to simply read his name tag and leave it at that.
He asked me a few more standard questions, address, phone number, and such, and then asked, "And when would you like to move in?"
I held my hands up in a 'time-out' manner. "Hold up a moment ... Scott.", I said, reading his name tag. "I have a few questions first." He looked at me blankly. "Do you build in other locations than this?"
"Well, Maplewood Manor is owned by the Pulte Group, which has developments all across America..." He started a spiel on the wonders of Pulte.
I stopped him again. "No, I mean, I own my own property already. Do you build on private property or only in a development?"
This really confused him. "You mean you don't want to live in Maplewood Manor?"
"I am buying property already. Now I need to build a house on it."
We were now off the charts completely for this poor guy. "I don't know."
"Is there somebody who would know?" No way was this kid going to last as a professional salesman. I should know, I had sold homes for over thirty years.
"Well, you could speak to Mister Marsbury.", he said after a few seconds contemplation.
"That would be fine."
"He's not here now."
What a fucking moron! "Well, do you know when he'll be back? Will it be today?"
He smiled and nodded. "Yes, probably in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to wait for him?"
No, I asking because I'm just checking up on you! I was rapidly losing patience. This kid was what we called in the Army a 'soup sandwich.' "Please. Do you have a demo unit I could go through while I wait?"
"Sure, we have one right across the street. You'll be able to learn about living in Maplewood Manor."
"I'm not moving into Maplewood Manor, remember? Listen, when he gets back, send him over to find me."
"You want me to send him over there?"
"Please."
"Well, okay, I guess I can ask him."
I just shook my head and walked out of the office and across the street in the development to the demo unit. At least in the Army you have to pass an IQ test to get in. That did not seem to be the case at Pulte Homes. It was not an auspicious beginning.
The demo unit was a nice looking home. I knew enough construction to figure out that if they were cutting any corners they were well hidden, and the specs listed on the brochures were certainly adequate. We'd be looking for some items on the higher end, but not because this stuff was bad. I looked through some literature and samples while keeping an eye out through the window back to the office. After about fifteen minutes a car pulled up at the sales office and a fellow in his forties got out and went inside, after glancing at my car parked there. A few minutes later he came out and walked across the street towards me.
He came inside. "Hello?", he called out.
I came around the corner from the kitchen. "Hello."
"Mister Buckner?"
"Buckman, Carl Buckman."
He just rolled his eyes for a second and stuck out his hand. "Bill Marsbury. Pleased to meet you."
"Same here. What name did Scott give you?"
Marsbury rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, sorry about that. He misheard you as Charles Buckner."
I simply smiled. "Is he somebody's relative?", I ventured.
I got a sharp look and a smile from that. "The project foreman's nephew. I just haven't had the heart to let the foreman know he ain't working out."
"Hey, it happens."
"He did say you wanted to build, but not here. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that's it." I filled him in on my plans. "Now, I'm looking for an outfit that will draw up the plans, build the house, and act as the GC. Can you do that, or if you can't do you know who could. I'm not looking for a mansion, but I am looking for good solid workmanship and reliability."
Marsbury had been nodding as I went through my ideas. "Sure, we can do that. We don't get the same benefits of scale as when we do it here in a development, but it's not out of the question. I'll need to do a site appraisal before I can say for sure, and I'll want to see the plans. Is this something you've gotten plans for already, or seen in a book of plans, or something?"
"Marilyn - she's my wife - and I have been through a few books and I've penciled a few things out. I don't have anything with me, but this was a spur of the moment drive. I was talking to my lawyer and he suggested I get one of the big professional outfits to do a turnkey for me. I saw the sign as I was heading home."
"Well, we're a big professional outfit. We can build you your house. I'll need to see your drawings. When can you come in with them? Or would it be better for me to visit you?"
As much as Scott had been unimpressive, Bill Marsbury was the opposite. This guy had his shit tightly packed. I could work with this guy. "Which is more convenient for you?"
"Where do you live?"
It would be easier to do this if he could visit us. That way we wouldn't have to pack Charlie up for a trip. He promised to come out Thursday afternoon. We shook hands and I left feeling good about it.