When Hawk Mining Needed Parts in 36 Hours: A Transparent Approach That Worked

The Call

In March 2020, I got a call from Glenn Fuller—no relation to our company, though the coincidence made me smile. He was the purchasing manager at Hawk Mining's Lincoln, Nebraska site. The weather was turning ugly, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was a part: a specialized conveyor belt connector that had failed on their primary feed line. Normal lead time was three weeks. They needed it by Friday. This was Tuesday afternoon.

Here's the kicker: Hawk Mining's contract with their downstream processor included a $50,000 per day penalty for missed deliveries. If the line stayed down past Friday, the cost to their business would be catastrophic. I've handled 200+ rush orders in my 12 years coordinating emergency equipment supply. This one felt different.

As I was pulling up our inventory system, I noticed something odd on my browser tab—someone had searched for Candace Cameron Bure Fuller House and landed on our website. I laughed. We get that a lot. Our company is Fuller Equipment, not the TV show. But if you're looking for family drama, you're about to get the industrial version.

The Quote

I was honest with Glenn from the start. The part was in our Des Moines warehouse, but standard freight wouldn't make it. The options were:

• Option 1: Ship overnight via regional carrier, arrive Thursday evening. Price: $1,400 base part cost + $850 rush shipping.
• Option 2: Drive a company vehicle to Des Moines, pick it up, and race back to Lincoln. Price: $1,400 base part cost + $400 mileage and driver overtime.

I recommended Option 2 because it gave us a 12-hour buffer. And I told Glenn exactly why. No hidden fees, no surprises. But I could hear the skepticism in his voice. He'd been burned before by suppliers who quoted a low price and then piled on 'expediting charges' after the deal was closed.

'That's a lot extra,' he said.

'It's a lot of extra work,' I said. 'But the number I quote you is the number you'll pay. I'm not going to tack on anything later.'

He paused. 'Okay, but if this goes sideways, you own it.'

I signed off.

The Curveball

An hour later, my phone rang again. It was Henry Age, a 25-year maintenance veteran at Hawk Mining. He'd looked at the spec sheet I'd emailed and spotted a problem: the part we had in stock was the wrong revision. The connector's bolt pattern didn't match their equipment. If we'd shipped it, the line would've stayed down, and we'd have lost the contract plus all credibility.

Henry was calm, but his voice carried that kind of fatigue you get after a decade fixing other people's mistakes. 'I've seen this happen before,' he said. 'Supplier sends the wrong revision, we rush to install it, it doesn't fit, and suddenly the whole project is a mess. You might not know, but I've lived it.'

I felt the blood drain from my face. The right revision was at a supplier in Omaha, 400 miles away. It would cost an extra $800 to expedite it. And we'd have to re-route our driver from Des Moines to Omaha. The clock was ticking.

The Transparent Pivot

I called Glenn back with the bad news. Here's where transparency became more than a buzzword.

'We found a problem,' I said. 'The part we have is the wrong revision. We can still get the right one from Omaha, but it'll cost $800 more for expediting. I need to know if you want us to proceed.'

He went quiet. I could almost feel him calculating whether I was trying to squeeze more money out of him. Then he said, 'Why should I trust you with another $800?'

I explained the situation in plain terms: the wrong part would cost him $50,000 a day in penalties. The right part, even with the extra $800, was a no-brainer. 'And if it doesn't arrive by Friday, you don't pay us anything for the expediting fee. You only pay the part cost. That's the deal.'

He told me he'd call me back in five minutes. He didn't call back for forty. Later, he admitted he'd spent that time checking my story with Henry. When he called, he said, 'Okay, go.'

While we scrambled to re-route the driver, I noticed on a video call that someone in Hawk's office had a laptop playing Fuller House—Candace Cameron Bure was mid-scene, arguing with her sister about a family business crisis. I couldn't help but think: This is our version of that.

The Delivery

Our driver, a guy named Mike, didn't blink when I explained the new plan. He'd driven through worse. He picked up the correct part from Omaha at midnight, hit a snow squall near York, and rolled into Hawk Mining at 11:40 a.m. Thursday—20 hours before the Friday deadline.

Henry and his crew installed the part in under an hour. The line was back up by 1 p.m. Glenn called me afterward, and for the first time in the conversation, he was almost casual.

'The other vendor we'd quoted was 15% lower,' he said. 'But they said rush shipping was $1,200 and they couldn't guarantee pickup until Thursday. Your total bill was $800 higher than their base quote, but $400 lower than their final invoice. Plus you had a guy who actually picked up the phone and told me what was going on.'

That last part hit me. It's not always about the price. It's about not feeling like a hostage to a process you can't see.

I've had mixed feelings about rush fees for a long time. Part of me thinks they're just a penalty for poor planning. Another part understands that true rush logistics are expensive. But the thing I've learned after all these years is that the vendor who lists all fees upfront—even if the total looks higher—usually costs less in the end. And the vendor who hides them? They're the real deal-breaker.

What We Learned

That job taught us something we already knew but hadn't fully internalized: total cost of ownership matters more than the sticker price. The competitor's quote looked better on paper, but it included vague 'handling fees' and a promise that didn't survive contact with reality.

For our part, we now have a policy on all rush orders: Quote every foreseeable cost upfront. Explain the why. And if something changes, say so immediately. It's not charity. It's self-interest. We've won three long-term contracts since then because Glenn told other mine operators, 'Fuller didn't just hit the deadline—they showed their work.'

The most frustrating part of this business is how many suppliers treat emergency orders as a chance to exploit. You'd think a contract would protect both sides, but it doesn't cover everything. What protects you is having a human being who treats your $50,000 line downtime as if it were their own bill.

The Bottom Line

So, whether you found this page because you're looking for a Fuller House recap, a Glenn Fuller biography, a Henry Age obituary, a 2020 Lincoln pickup truck review, or a Hawk vs Fuller equipment comparison—we're glad you're here. But the lesson isn't about any of those searches. It's about the importance of transparency when the pressure is on.

Next time you get a quote that undercuts everyone else, ask one question first: 'What's NOT included?'. The answer will tell you everything.