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?
S
Steffen8012 Mar 2017 15:17I am sure... our house, as it is now with the materials used and many "special" solutions, no general contractor could do it cheaper. They would probably all be significantly more expensive. We once had a quote from Kern-Haus... very early on. The price they offered... I could only laugh out loud.
Steffen... but that’s not really the question here. It’s clear that people go to a developer or general contractor when they are fine with standard products and don’t want or need very specific custom solutions. You can’t really compare an off-the-shelf wardrobe with a custom-made one by a carpenter. And sure, they all claim to offer individual options. But that’s just marketing. The further you move away from the standard, the more uneconomical it becomes with them. There are too many parties involved making profit—brochures, salespeople, trade shows, transport routes across the country... K
Nordlys schrieb:
You can’t compare an off-the-shelf wardrobe to a custom-made piece from a carpenter.However, besides custom carpentry and large furniture stores, there are numerous other intermediate options that allow you to personalize your fittings completely. These are usually not visible in brochures... Catalogs are often not available anyway, as they are too expensive and too standardized, which does not fit the provider’s offerings.
What was the question again?