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Two People Asked. Both Bailed.

A woman called this morning wanting a washer and dryer. I said yes. I don't have one, because I broke my own rule and bought two machines nobody wanted.

DJ Cimino · Founder, Apex Skills
Letterpress broadside in three panels: a stacked washer and dryer in a garage with a card taped to it reading no stackables and an unopened washer hose box on the floor beside a socket wrench, a woman on her phone standing at the open doors of an empty apartment laundry closet with moving boxes beside her, and a ledger reading 2 asked, 2 bailed, 400 dollars spent, 0 dollars collected, sets on hand 0.

A woman called me this morning. She wants a washer and dryer for her new apartment, a side by side set, rented. I told her yes.

I don't have one.

What I've got in my garage is two stackable units nobody wants, a washer waiting on a part, another one I haven't gotten to, and a dryer I'd honestly call okay. So I told a paying customer yes with nothing on the floor to give her, and now I've got to go make that true before she needs it.

Here's how the garage got that way.

Two people asked. Both bailed.

Two leads came in off my website asking for stackable units. Not a form fill. They called me. That's the good problem, the one I spent months building toward, and I did what I always do when the phone rings. I said yes.

Then I went and found them. $200 each. One needed a special hose I had to order and wait on. The other was old enough that the parts got expensive, and it wanted a new agitator. I fixed them both up. One of them came out nice.

The first customer had already agreed the week before. We'd set aside the time for me to deliver it as a rental. Then it was back and forth, and back and forth, and then she was gone. The second one did the same thing. Both of them told me the same sentence.

They already found them.

They were shopping while I was buying. Both units are sitting on Facebook right now at $700 and $500 and I've gotten close to nothing on either, and I'm not going lower, because I know what's in them. The listing's stale. I'll repost it and I'll probably make my money back eventually. Eventually is the problem. I'm holding the bag on these for now and they're clogging up my cash flow, and every dollar of it is standing in my garage in a shape I promised myself I'd never buy.

Why I don't touch stackables

I didn't make that rule to be stubborn. I made it after I rented a stackable to somebody for $60, which is the same $60 I charge for a side by side.

Think about what that actually means. Stackables cost me more to buy in the first place. If I rent one out I have to keep a second one sitting here as a backup, because the one in her apartment is going to break at some point and I need to have the answer ready that day. So I'm carrying two expensive machines to serve one customer, at the same price as the cheap machines I already know how to fix. And I don't fully know how to fix stackables. They're heavier. They go into tighter, worse spaces. And in my experience the person who needs one is more strapped than the person who needs a side by side, which means the collections side of it gets harder too.

Every one of those reasons was already written down. I knew all of it. Two people asked anyway, I told myself this time was different, and I spent the money. I moved away from what I shouldn't have. I should've stuck by the side by sides like I intended to.

The business is one working set

The engine here isn't the website. It isn't the pricing. It's having one working set on hand at all times.

People call me straight off the website now, one or two at a time, wanting to rent or buy or rent to own. I've got two on rent to own right now, and that side picked up this summer. They find me because I ask every single person how they heard about me, and then I go chase whatever it was they searched. Most of them tell me the same thing. They saw a couple of 5 star reviews, figured out I'm the budget version of the big names, and called. No money up front, and I move immediately. That's the whole offer.

Speed is the product. The machine is a commodity. What somebody is paying me for is that when they call on a Tuesday with an empty laundry closet, I'm at their door. And the only way to be at their door is to already own a set that's sitting in my garage doing nothing.

An idle washing machine looks like dead money on a spreadsheet. It's the entire business. I converted mine into two special orders for people who were never going to wait.

I automated everything except the thing that stops me

The rest of this operation runs on rails I'm proud of. A Twilio number reads my Stripe data and texts customers before a payment is due, when it's due, and when it's late. It adds the late fee on its own. It writes to a spreadsheet I check with coffee every morning. I've got scheduled agents in Claude Code and Codex breaking down podcasts twice a day and handing me a full read on every customer's billing before I start driving my route.

I've got a growth brain running in the background on sites I barely think about. It reads Google Search Console and the Ahrefs emails, forms a hypothesis about what to change, changes the site, watches what the data does, then iterates on itself. It gets better while I sleep. I think I can pass companies with staff and a warehouse while working a full time delivery job, by myself, because of this stuff.

None of it can put a washing machine in my garage.

That's not a knock on the tools. That's the lesson. Automation multiplies whatever you're already doing. It doesn't have an opinion about whether the thing you're doing is the right thing. My system will text a customer a late fee, right on schedule, for a unit I never should have bought. It'll point at a bad decision exactly as hard as it points at a good one.

I said yes again this morning

Which brings me back to the lady with the new apartment.

She wants a side by side. That's my lane, the exact machine I know how to buy, fix, deliver, and get paid on. So it isn't the same mistake.

It's the same reflex. Somebody asked, and I said yes before I had the thing in my hand, and now I get to spend the week scrambling to make my own promise true. I'm telling you this while it's still unresolved, because I don't know yet how it lands, and because every version of this story I've ever read got written by somebody after they already came out looking smart.

The yes isn't free. It's the most expensive word in the business, and it costs whatever I have to convert to keep it.

Keep one ready. Say yes to the customers you're built for. Let the other ones go find it somewhere else, because they already did.


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