Capacity | Grit | Character

Jordan Holm

CEO and Founder

MY DAD was my first influence in business. I grew up hanging and finishing drywall with him. It was my after-school activity in elementary and my summer job throughout my formative years.

Jeff Holm | 1954-2022

The mixture of dust and sweat rarely seemed to bother him. He enjoyed the process and demonstrated what it meant to work heartily – often singing as he wielded the tools of his trade.

It was easy to be impressed with his capacity for work. During the summer, we’d routinely start before sunrise and return well after dark, relying on extension cords and halogen lights to illuminate our path around the worksite. By 8th grade, I was proficient in each phase of the process and drywalling entire houses with my brother who was a sophomore. We were proud of our pace and final product.

Perhaps it was inevitable that we’d develop our dad’s capacity for work. I would’ve enjoyed playing more baseball in the summer when I was younger, but I’m also grateful for my dad’s influence in developing my work ethic. The repetitions I put into doing difficult things until I was proficient – and able to find joy in the process, much like my dad – established a foundation that I’ve relied on many times in my life.

When I started wrestling in second grade, it felt natural to embrace the demands of the sport. With respect for legendary Coach Dan Gable, who said, “Once you have wrestled, everything else in life is easy,” my siblings and I would jokingly substitute the phrase, “Once you have drywalled…” because we loved the reprieve from dust and mud that we found in a tough wrestling practice after school.

I approached the sport much like everything else – willing to put in the work.

Grit

MY DAD didn’t scale his operation or “crush it,” like Gary Vee. Such thoughts never seemed to cross his mind. He spoke of business like an exercise in faith that the next job would appear on his calendar. He was grateful when it would and often expressed a sense of wonder of what made the phone ring, especially when we really needed the next job.

As enthusiastic as he was about installing and finishing drywall, he had nearly an opposite interest in other aspects of the business. In this way, we were very different. As a kid, my mind raced with ideas of how we could improve. I’d ask questions and make suggestions on drives between jobs. He’d nod along, entertaining my ideas and occasionally smile, as if to acknowledge how different our interests were or how imaginative it all sounded to him.

He'd calmly say things like, “someday you ought to try that,” as we’d step out of his van onto an unfinished driveway and begin to carry in buckets of tools. He meant when I was older and I’d earned the opportunity. He also meant it. He said it as someone who wanted to be there when it happened, much like he was at nearly all my events growing up.

Now as a founder I’m frequently reminded that there’s no shortage of people with recipes for things that don’t have recipes. Solutions abound, especially among those with limited perspective. I still plan in more detail than most, but I’m also aware that recipes crumble amid challenging, dynamic, and complex situations – like those that are common in business. As the poet wrote, “The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” In these moments, my dad was sustained by his faith. His example helped develop my ability through faith to keep operating with boldness and calm assurance when my own might or plans fall short.

I see more wisdom in his smile today as he listened to my recipes. He likely understood that my eagerness to carry in the buckets and to do excellent work – even on the backside of closets where few would notice, but he’d double-check – were uncommon characteristics that I would need more than any well-laid plans.

In specific ways my dad did “crush it;” if to say this means that he influenced me to develop fundamentals like grit and capacity, upon which academic knowledge and other attributes could flourish.

I’ve navigated enough circumstances to confirm that perseverance amidst challenges – on a wrestling mat, in life, or in business – without buffering standards or lowering expectations has had a more substantial impact on my life than the formulas I’ve learned and successfully implemented.

In my estimation, events like graduating summa cum laude, winning several national championships, and earning awards in business are much more attributable to the grit I’ve developed than the talent I inherited.

Character

MY DAD was the definition of clean cut. He never smoked, drank, or swore. He kept his shirt tucked in, his hair cut short, and maintained impeccable hygiene despite the nature of his job. This distinguished him from others in his trade.

He was a man of few words except on occasion when something would ignite him – not including sporting events, which frequently brought him to his feet – it was usually a song or an event that tied directly into a life principle that he wanted us to know. These moments would often last the length of the car ride, leaving us with plenty to think about as we exited the vehicle.

I never wondered where he stood on things or how he’d conduct himself. He was the most predictable person I’ve ever known. By this I mean that he was a man of character, but more specifically, if I had to choose, he fit John Wooden’s definition of character, as someone who cared remarkably little of what others thought of him.

"Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are." - John Wooden

John Wooden | 10X NCAA Champion

As a teenager, I both marveled and shook my head at my dad’s lack of concern for what others thought of him. He’d eat dessert first and balance food on his plate like he was trying to survive at potlucks, buffets, or family events. If it didn’t violate his principles, he was unfazed by how he was perceived.

I remember some of the looks we received when we entered a restaurant for lunch, covered in a layer of dust. It wasn’t glamorous for those of us more concerned with our reputation than our dad. Although, sometimes I loved it and wore the mud on my shirt like a badge of honor.

My dad experienced a fair amount of poor treatment as a lowly drywaller - when people neglected to pay him, spoke over him, or mistook his quiet nature for lack of intelligence. In these moments, he wouldn’t debate, list achievements, inform them that he held a Master’s degree, or much else. He would either quietly listen or - often all too quickly, in my estimation - he’d disengage.

Either way, it was clear that he was more concerned with what he knew of his own character than their understanding of who he was. On occasion, he’d comment that his identity or self-worth weren’t grounded in his occupation. They were staked in higher things. Again, leaving us with plenty to think about as we exited the vehicle.

Before I left for college, I understood that events in our life, triumphant or terrible, do not define us. The character we reveal in how we move forward is more telling of who we really are. There have certainly been times when I’ve wished that only my triumphs would be known, or that I was less concerned with my reputation all together, as John Wooden would advise, but I’m also quick to remember that our character, or who we really are, is what counts.

As for our value, we’ve been given this incredible, priceless, crazy opportunity that we call life. May we choose to live in a way that demonstrates our gratitude for such a gift by “striving valiantly,” developing our talents, being gritty when necessary, and remembering that we’re in this together. Helping and receiving help only enriches our lives.

My Commitment to You

My commitment to each of you is that I will give my utmost effort; I will err at times, but I will listen and correct. I will ensure that we treat our customers, our colleagues, our roadways, and the cities we serve with respect; and I will run this business with passion, humility, and integrity.