I remember a job just outside of town, stripping a thirty-year-old cedar shake roof down to the studs with my dad and my brother. I was hauling wheelbarrow loads of old shakes to the bin when I stepped square onto a nail, the kind that hides point-up in a pile of cedar long after the asphalt nails have already worked themselves loose. I checked the damage, decided I was going to live, rinsed it off, and limped through the rest of the day, because that is what you did.
At lunch, my dad realized he had forgotten his spoon. Without missing a beat, he grabbed an old cedar shake that had been baking in the sun for thirty years and used it to scoop his yogurt. Equal parts disgusting and brilliant. It taught me something I did not fully understand until years later: when you do not have the right tool for the job, you find a way. You adapt. You keep working.
That was field service work in our family. When I was not on the roof, I was inside doing the books, scheduling jobs, writing invoices, and chasing payments that should have come in weeks earlier. For two and a half years, I learned this kind of business from both ends: the labour and the paperwork, the sweat and the spreadsheet.
My dad worked from before sunrise until after dark, almost every day. He barely stopped to eat. He missed dinners, evenings, and ordinary moments with our family because there was always one more job, one more invoice to chase, one more fire to put out.
He did all of it because he loved us, and because he did not know there was another way to run a business. Nobody ever sat down with him and said: here is where you are losing time, here is where you are losing money, and here is how to fix it. He just worked harder, because that was the only tool he had.
My dad has since passed away. I think about him every single time I sit down with a business owner now, because I see him in almost all of them. The exhaustion. The pride that will not let them ask for help. The quiet belief that if they just work a little harder, things will sort themselves out.
They rarely do. That is the cycle Time Hound Consulting exists to break.
Time Hound is a remote business efficiency consultancy built for construction and field service businesses across Canada: roofers, plumbers, electricians, landscapers, cleaners, and the dozens of other trades that keep this country running.
This is not a business I dreamed up from the outside looking in. It is built from 20-plus years inside construction, hospitality, and service businesses, including my time as a Canadian Armed Forces veteran and as the founder of Sol Havn Organizing Co., a home organizing company. Every system I build, I build because I have lived the alternative: the chaos, the burnout, the money quietly disappearing while the owner is too busy keeping the lights on to notice.
If you are the owner working 50, 60, or 70 hours a week and you still cannot quite figure out where the money goes, I see you. You are not bad at running a business. You just have not had anyone sit down with you and show you where the leaks are.
That is what I do. I dig into your scheduling, your pricing, your job costing, and your day-to-day operations, then hand you a clear, prioritized plan to fix what is costing you the most, in plain language, with no jargon and no 50-page report.
I cannot go back and help my dad. But I can make sure fewer owners end up working themselves into the ground because nobody ever showed them another way.
If that sounds like you, let us talk.
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