There is no Reilly Plumbing. We invented a two-van plumber called Michael, wrote him a week, and built the thing his worst line asked for — so you'd have something to ring instead of a page of promises.
Everything below the invented part is real and running. Ring it and give it a blocked drain.
Nobody measured these hours, because there's nobody to measure. It's here so you can see the shape of a finished one before you sit down and do yours for real. Yours gets filled in by you, in your handwriting, with your numbers.
The worst line on a sheet is the brief. On this made-up one it's the phone — so that's the only thing we built.
If a mob shows you case studies before they've heard your week, ask whose week it was. We'd rather show you a working thing and tell you we made the story up.
Give it a blocked drain and see how it takes the job. Nothing is booked, nothing is recorded, and nobody gets sent out — there's no van at the other end of this.
Eight job types, invented with the business. That's the entire brief it was given.
She can't make any of this up, because she was never given it.
Ask it what a hot water swap costs and it will tell you it doesn't know and that someone will call you back. That's not a gap in the build — that's the build. A yours-shaped one only ever knows what you've handed it.
Here's what the other lines turn into. Same method every time — fill the sheet in, pick the worst line, build that one thing, and let you use it before you pay for it.