Knowledge of the basics holds its value for a while. Knowledge about specific products is different—markets are constantly changing, and some home manufacturers have exited the market, merged, or changed ownership. Paradigm shifts—currently “energy saving” is the golden calf of them all—are reshaping the relationships between solid construction and timber frame builders. This year being a multiple of seven, it was time for me to get an overview of the market for the first time this decade.
I didn’t rely solely on names familiar from past years but also included portals promising brochures from multiple providers at once. A colorful mix of solid and timber frame builders. Such a journey can be quite an experience. The highlight came today, but more on that later.
I have been keeping a sideways eye on the market all along, so I was aware that much from “back then” about “companies” (brands/names) and what was “typical” for them can be forgotten: recognizable names with “brand value” alone, like Bugatti or Grundig, have changed ownership so fundamentally that, apart from their reputation, nothing remains the same—at least among prefabricated home builders. But since the trend suite of Passive House / Energy Saving Ordinance / KfW funding has refreshed their model ranges, I finally had to take a broad “full blood count” of the market again.
Most providers manage to send out information brochures averaging about 20 pages within four to five business days. Just over a quarter of them lag behind, as their brochure mailing logistics take a few days longer than the eager regional sales reps emailing to know when they can finally deliver their pitch. The brochures from solid construction companies are quite amusing—I often feel like I’m at a “Chinese” or “Italian” restaurant: certain options appear on everyone’s menu, but each with a different number. “Sweet and sour duck” and “salami pizza” are everywhere. The computer-generated drawings of happy building families all look alike, and lo and behold, reverse image searches prove it: you find their “building proposals” under one of the well-known aerated concrete manufacturers’ offerings. Only sometimes not made from aerated concrete (or other monolithic materials), but built as “composite systems.” After all, there are vegan lasagnas, too.
Particularly embarrassing is that the same providers’ reference photo galleries on their websites show a wider range of customer houses, which would have been much better suited as building proposals. And typically, none admit to licensing designs from others, even though customers driving their Sharan / Galaxy / Alhambra probably couldn’t care less.
Apart from that, the market generally follows three approaches: sending information as a single brochure; a two-track approach with a picture brochure for everyone and a technical supplement as an insert; and a third variant combining pictures and technical details but split into separate brochures by product line. The majority opted for quick delivery of manageable information packs in all three cases. Many also offer a thicker brochure in addition, but the initial info packages already reveal fairly clearly whose offer you definitely want to avoid.
These small brochures have almost become part of the family, holding a fixed place on the coffee table. The latecomer arrived today, “long awaited, eagerly desired” (I hear Dalida singing), a hefty 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages. The postman’s wheezing on the last step was quickly explained: what follows made me ponder whether this is failed advertising or simply reality satire. Because in those 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages, there is absolutely n.o.t.h.i.n.g! !
Well, not literally nothing, although that would have been a nice idea—a thick notebook for scribbling your own ideas, with the last page saying “Here we are—ready to build for you!”
But here, the “nothing” is of a different kind: the book is, to put it mildly, content-wise very light. Despite its impressive thickness, only its prominent sponsor is thicker. Right at the beginning, it raves about the author being a satisfied homeowner, along with many others—now tens of thousands. The company was once in deep trouble, near closure, then a new CEO came, and since then it has been moving up and forward, far into the future—mentally at least, nearly in the 25th century. If desired, you can build an entire village with them, with other families too. Full of houses from the future, mentally ultra-modern. I would live in the rear building above my car-sharing electric vehicle charging station. Possibly above my own medical practice. I could sneak in discreetly via a separate staircase at the side delivery entrance. And there would even be room for grandma. Well, at least a small consolation.
Flipping through to the last chapter was not worth it, except for one significant achievement: the manufacturer actually managed over 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages to avoid giving me any information on such mundane details as wall construction, even brief excerpts of performance specifications, or anything substantially meaningful. A dozen floor plans are scattered throughout, some with area measurements and even occasional exterior wall lengths.
I am overwhelmed—but not impressed, and certainly not informed.
Apparently, no one told the manufacturer’s marketing team about a great sales psychology effect: among several roughly equivalent products, the one that reaches the customer first gains the “home advantage.” Being last, especially when the race is already called off—the last in a six-day race doesn’t get unlimited time for the first lap—cannot be compensated for by paying the largest sum to the catalog printing house.
After this textbook example of a colossal failure, I now have to ask: how did your search for information go? How many (or how few) providers managed to give you at least an approximately shared definition of “useful, decision-supporting information,” and where did providers most miss the mark in giving you good reasons to check the mailbox with answered questions?
I didn’t rely solely on names familiar from past years but also included portals promising brochures from multiple providers at once. A colorful mix of solid and timber frame builders. Such a journey can be quite an experience. The highlight came today, but more on that later.
I have been keeping a sideways eye on the market all along, so I was aware that much from “back then” about “companies” (brands/names) and what was “typical” for them can be forgotten: recognizable names with “brand value” alone, like Bugatti or Grundig, have changed ownership so fundamentally that, apart from their reputation, nothing remains the same—at least among prefabricated home builders. But since the trend suite of Passive House / Energy Saving Ordinance / KfW funding has refreshed their model ranges, I finally had to take a broad “full blood count” of the market again.
Most providers manage to send out information brochures averaging about 20 pages within four to five business days. Just over a quarter of them lag behind, as their brochure mailing logistics take a few days longer than the eager regional sales reps emailing to know when they can finally deliver their pitch. The brochures from solid construction companies are quite amusing—I often feel like I’m at a “Chinese” or “Italian” restaurant: certain options appear on everyone’s menu, but each with a different number. “Sweet and sour duck” and “salami pizza” are everywhere. The computer-generated drawings of happy building families all look alike, and lo and behold, reverse image searches prove it: you find their “building proposals” under one of the well-known aerated concrete manufacturers’ offerings. Only sometimes not made from aerated concrete (or other monolithic materials), but built as “composite systems.” After all, there are vegan lasagnas, too.
Particularly embarrassing is that the same providers’ reference photo galleries on their websites show a wider range of customer houses, which would have been much better suited as building proposals. And typically, none admit to licensing designs from others, even though customers driving their Sharan / Galaxy / Alhambra probably couldn’t care less.
Apart from that, the market generally follows three approaches: sending information as a single brochure; a two-track approach with a picture brochure for everyone and a technical supplement as an insert; and a third variant combining pictures and technical details but split into separate brochures by product line. The majority opted for quick delivery of manageable information packs in all three cases. Many also offer a thicker brochure in addition, but the initial info packages already reveal fairly clearly whose offer you definitely want to avoid.
These small brochures have almost become part of the family, holding a fixed place on the coffee table. The latecomer arrived today, “long awaited, eagerly desired” (I hear Dalida singing), a hefty 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages. The postman’s wheezing on the last step was quickly explained: what follows made me ponder whether this is failed advertising or simply reality satire. Because in those 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages, there is absolutely n.o.t.h.i.n.g! !
Well, not literally nothing, although that would have been a nice idea—a thick notebook for scribbling your own ideas, with the last page saying “Here we are—ready to build for you!”
But here, the “nothing” is of a different kind: the book is, to put it mildly, content-wise very light. Despite its impressive thickness, only its prominent sponsor is thicker. Right at the beginning, it raves about the author being a satisfied homeowner, along with many others—now tens of thousands. The company was once in deep trouble, near closure, then a new CEO came, and since then it has been moving up and forward, far into the future—mentally at least, nearly in the 25th century. If desired, you can build an entire village with them, with other families too. Full of houses from the future, mentally ultra-modern. I would live in the rear building above my car-sharing electric vehicle charging station. Possibly above my own medical practice. I could sneak in discreetly via a separate staircase at the side delivery entrance. And there would even be room for grandma. Well, at least a small consolation.
Flipping through to the last chapter was not worth it, except for one significant achievement: the manufacturer actually managed over 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages to avoid giving me any information on such mundane details as wall construction, even brief excerpts of performance specifications, or anything substantially meaningful. A dozen floor plans are scattered throughout, some with area measurements and even occasional exterior wall lengths.
I am overwhelmed—but not impressed, and certainly not informed.
Apparently, no one told the manufacturer’s marketing team about a great sales psychology effect: among several roughly equivalent products, the one that reaches the customer first gains the “home advantage.” Being last, especially when the race is already called off—the last in a six-day race doesn’t get unlimited time for the first lap—cannot be compensated for by paying the largest sum to the catalog printing house.
After this textbook example of a colossal failure, I now have to ask: how did your search for information go? How many (or how few) providers managed to give you at least an approximately shared definition of “useful, decision-supporting information,” and where did providers most miss the mark in giving you good reasons to check the mailbox with answered questions?
Sascha aus H11 Mar 2017 16:06I believe that the meaningless brochures you criticize, @11ant, are exactly what most homebuyers who are not already working with an architect are looking for.
Of course, we talk a lot about our building project at work or among friends and acquaintances. Most people look at you with wide eyes and wonder why you bother dealing with all these details. The most common response is: “We bought a house from a developer — they added a few outlets, moved one wall, and otherwise just accepted everything as proposed.”
Therefore, I think most people are actually searching for the "perfect" finished house, where appearance and floor plan usually play the main role. Wall construction? Probably nobody cares. Maybe the energy efficiency standard matters a bit, just to get a supposedly cheaper loan, but how it is actually implemented? I believe that interests very few.
Of course, we talk a lot about our building project at work or among friends and acquaintances. Most people look at you with wide eyes and wonder why you bother dealing with all these details. The most common response is: “We bought a house from a developer — they added a few outlets, moved one wall, and otherwise just accepted everything as proposed.”
Therefore, I think most people are actually searching for the "perfect" finished house, where appearance and floor plan usually play the main role. Wall construction? Probably nobody cares. Maybe the energy efficiency standard matters a bit, just to get a supposedly cheaper loan, but how it is actually implemented? I believe that interests very few.
A house designed by an architect is at least as affordable, if not cheaper. Provided, of course, that the general contractor uses the same quality materials... but comparing apples and oranges is always tricky, right?
And regarding the claim that tradespeople do not respond to architect’s bids, is that based on personal experience or just something that’s said?
And regarding the claim that tradespeople do not respond to architect’s bids, is that based on personal experience or just something that’s said?
We visited two display home villages and narrowed down our options.
Some of them were disappointing. (This house here has our special wall construction. Strange, two years ago it was the display home of another company.)
Some made us feel like beggars. Ironically, these were the ones responsible for the unfair bad reputation of timber frame houses being called flimsy boxes.
Some mocked our wishes.
Others were downright aggressive.
Some were as flexible as reinforced concrete.
In the end, we settled on one builder who has no glossy brochure, no detailed scope of work, and no display home. Before the first appointment, we received two PDFs: one representing what would have been the glossy brochure and one with their pricing spreadsheet.
He visited the site with graph paper and a ruler. He listened to our requests, asked questions—not just about the project, but also to get to know us. That’s why the meeting took place at our home.
At the same time, we stayed in contact with two other companies as we needed to get a feel for the prices.
In the end, graph paper won over glossy brochures.
Some of them were disappointing. (This house here has our special wall construction. Strange, two years ago it was the display home of another company.)
Some made us feel like beggars. Ironically, these were the ones responsible for the unfair bad reputation of timber frame houses being called flimsy boxes.
Some mocked our wishes.
Others were downright aggressive.
Some were as flexible as reinforced concrete.
In the end, we settled on one builder who has no glossy brochure, no detailed scope of work, and no display home. Before the first appointment, we received two PDFs: one representing what would have been the glossy brochure and one with their pricing spreadsheet.
He visited the site with graph paper and a ruler. He listened to our requests, asked questions—not just about the project, but also to get to know us. That’s why the meeting took place at our home.
At the same time, we stayed in contact with two other companies as we needed to get a feel for the prices.
In the end, graph paper won over glossy brochures.
@tempic
We disagree with the statement that using an architect is even cheaper. My experience is different.
The claim that contractors often do not submit bids when working with architects comes from professional experience in an administrative context. Currently, there is such a construction boom that many companies say they have no interest in dealing with all the paperwork, verified invoices that then sit for weeks, site meetings, and so on; they are busy enough and still receive contracts through direct awarding. Those who do submit bids add a significant markup.
We disagree with the statement that using an architect is even cheaper. My experience is different.
The claim that contractors often do not submit bids when working with architects comes from professional experience in an administrative context. Currently, there is such a construction boom that many companies say they have no interest in dealing with all the paperwork, verified invoices that then sit for weeks, site meetings, and so on; they are busy enough and still receive contracts through direct awarding. Those who do submit bids add a significant markup.
Nordlys schrieb:
It comes from professional experience in an administration Presumably, the contractors simply don’t want to work with the public sector. Unfortunately, most administrations have not yet internalized that they do not have to accept the lowest bid.
We also don’t participate in every tender at all costs. Often, we even submit bids without any discounts, simply because although we are not the cheapest, we offer the most economical option.
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