Dan,

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First, great seeing you at Christmas. Sorry we didn’t get to talk more at the family bowling outing, but I needed to concentrate on not losing to some punk 15 year-old.

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One thing I recall from our brief conversation was your story about the conveyor system your company manufactured in 1973—before either of us was born—that you’d just gotten a call about upgrading. Quite a lifespan for a piece of industrial equipment.

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You wondered whether durability would be a viable positioning for Power Pack. I stepped away to pick up a spare in the ninth frame before I could respond. (Most of my conversations with CEO/owners of mid-market manufacturing companies aren’t interrupted by bowling, but that’s family for ya.) So, to close the loop on that: 

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Hell yes!

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Durability is one of my favorite anchors for brands seeking to create lasting relationships with customers. It’s a signal of quality and speaks well not only of the product, but of the company behind it. Brands that do it well—Best Made, Yeti, John Deere, The Rolling Stones, for example—build loyalty that lingers and reputations that remain. They may not always be the sexiest (sorry, Mick & Keith), but they weather cycles.

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You’d know better than anyone how important your systems are for your customers. When the spec calls for your custom conveyor to offload a trailer full of automotive seats in under a minute, equipment failure is not an option. So it’s no surprise you make products that perform, without fail, for decades. 

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That said, durability is a promise a brand can’t make lightly. Brands that don’t keep that commitment lose their stature, and struggle to come back. Some never do.

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Think about Craftsman Tools. In their early years, they were so durable that Sears would replace them, no questions asked, in the rare event they broke. As Sears took its eye off the ball, Craftsman’s product quality deteriorated, and its reputation went with it.

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Or Maytag. Its idle repairman from TV commercials became the cornerstone of its brand: their products were so well made, he never got called. Then they bought a bunch of other brands. Then they were bought themselves by Whirlpool. And that durability story became harder to claim when manufacturing efficiencies blurred the lines between brands all made in the same factories.

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When we broke for pizza between the second and third games (score: one game apiece heading into the rubber match), you talked about service as a differentiator. That comes naturally to you from your experience as a caddy, a bartender, a salesman, and in the service-centric organization you built in your most recent role. Service is certainly a position you could own—quite authentically. 

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But service is only one support point of what I see as a more powerful positioning centered on durability. The care required to make a durable product carries with it the implication of a high service standard. And there is perhaps no better service you can perform for your customers than building them a product that lasts. 

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(Not unlike my bowling victory over your son at Bay Lanes, which no one can ever take away from me. Even if your sister later chastised me for the taunting celebration dance.)

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Indelibly yours,

Mike