By Jeremy Hainsworth
Vancouver, British Columbia - As a franchise operator of 1-800-GOT-JUNK, Calgary's Dave Harrop thought he would just be hauling away other people's garbage - not bona fide treasures that would lead to a lucrative lifestyle.
He once picked up 50 boxes of books which were bound for the paper recyclers. Looking inside one, he found early editions of three books by Charles Dickens, including a copy of Bleak House.
"It was totally by fluke," he said. "I just happened to look on top of the boxes and saw it was worth going through the boxes," he said.
Harrop's find is not as uncommon as it may seem, says company spokesperson Christopher Bennett.
Bronic Gold, a San Mateo, California, franchise operator of 1-800-Got-Junk, found a 1954 Martin Parlour Acoustic Guitar worth almost $10 000, said Bennett, who has a document signed by President Teddy Roosevelt worth $17 000 and a Spider-man 1 comic as a result of junk jobs.
"You'd be amazed at what people throw away," Bennett said. "It's junk. You're really going into people's basements and backyards and grabbing junk and taking it to a landfill site."
They are all part of a Vancouver-based company that has transformed itself from a one-man operation carting off people's unwanted stuff 16 years ago to one that expects to have 250 franchises throughout North America by the end of 2006.
The business is the brainchild of CEO Brian Scudamore. Clad in slacks and a sweater over a T-shirt, the 35-year-old Scudamore is far from the image of a corporate suit. He walks to work and does not own a cellphone.
"We're creating the FedEx of the junk removal industry," he said in a coffee shop next door to the company's Vancouver headquarters, called the Junktion.
Scudamore - an avid reader of business books on entrepreneurs such as Virgin Group's Sir Richard Branson and FedEx's Frederick W. Smith - describes the company's growth as "explosive."
He began the company in 1989 as a way to pay his way through college. Sitting in a Vancouver McDonald's two days before his 19th birthday, he saw a beat-up old junk hauler truck and thought: "I could do that."
Using the $491 in his bank account, he bought a similar truck and printed flyers for The Rubbish Boys. In 1999, Scudamore developed the franchising model based on the name 1-800-GOT-JUNK?
There was a problem, however. That number belonged to an Idaho state agency. After countless calls tracking down the official in charge, Scudamore persuaded him to give up the number.
"The guy goes: 'Listen, it's the number we own, but yeah, we're not really using it. It's not that important to us, but clearly it's important to you'," Scudamore said.
He soon realised that he was learning more through his own experiences than he was sitting in a university lecture hall. He dropped out. In fact, Scudamore has literally turned the phrase that one man's junk is another man's treasure into a gold mine.
The first year of franchising, the company brought in $833 000 in revenue. It expects to see $92-million in revenue this year. By 2009, Scudamore projects $321-million in revenue. While he's estimating a billion Canadian dollars in sales by 2012, Scudamore said he won't let the company grow too fast.
"No way," he said. "We can't weaken that foundation that we're building. I want to build a globally admired brand."
Now, however, the company finds itself a victim of its own success. Six members of its executive team have given up their offices to run company franchises.
"They want to get a franchise before we're sold out," Bennett said.
There are only 400 franchises remaining in North America; 244 have already been sold.
But, said Scudamore: "As long as they don't leave completely, we're happy. I think it's good for validation."
Last year, Scudamore received 3 000 franchise inquiries.
"It's like a gold rush." he said. - Sapa-AP