In the previous column, I wrote of how “Pistol Pete” can cut a vehicle in half, weld it back together, throw some paint on it, and send a family down the highway at 75 miles per hour with no collision repair license, required industry training, knowledge of OEM repair procedures, or owning specialized equipment.

I Spent Years on the Other Side

Before becoming a body shop owner, I spent more than 20 years in the insurance industry as a licensed insurance agent, adjuster and special investigator. And there is something I think collision repairers need to hear.

In all those years, I don't remember sitting in insurance meetings where the primary discussion or any discussion was:

'Are We Performing a Safe Repair?'

I started hearing that language constantly when I entered the collision repair industry. That difference in perspective matters. An insurance company is a financial institution. It collects premiums, manages risk and pays claims. Its business model depends on the relationship between money coming in and money going out.

That doesn't mean every adjuster is a bad person. It doesn't mean insurance companies consciously want unsafe cars on the road. Most adjusters are simply doing their jobs within the rules, authority and guidelines they've been given.

But we make a mistake as shop owners when we assume the insurer is approaching the repair from the same perspective we are.

We say:

"This procedure is necessary for a safe and proper repair."

And then we are shocked when the response is:

"We don't pay for that."

We keep thinking safety is the magic word that should end the argument.

It isn't.

Stop Arguing the Wrong Argument

Of course, we must repair vehicles safely.

That isn't negotiable.

But "it's necessary for a safe repair" cannot be our entire justification for getting paid because we are making an argument to someone whose primary concern may be completely different from ours.

We need documentation.

We need OEM procedures. We need invoices. We need labor documentation. We need equipment requirements. We need estimating-system documentation. We need position statements. We need photos. We need measurements. We need proof of what was performed and why it was required.

Most importantly, we need to stop letting an insurance company decide what operations belong on the repair plan.

What does the vehicle require? That's the repair question.

Who is responsible for paying for it? That's the financial question.

We hurt ourselves when we combine the two.

We also hurt ourselves when we believe that repeatedly telling an insurance company, "But this is necessary for a safe repair," is somehow going to change the economics of the conversation.

Safety is our responsibility. Controlling claim costs is part of theirs.

Once you understand that the two sides may be walking into the conversation with completely different objectives, the constant friction between shops and insurers starts making a lot more sense.

Maybe It's Time We Professionalize Ourselves

I know licensing is controversial. Government regulation can create bureaucracy, unnecessary costs and unintended consequences. I am not suggesting that every licensing proposal would automatically be good for our industry.

But I do believe the conversation is overdue.

If you need demonstrated competency and, in many cases, licensing to perform services that affect a consumer, why should there be virtually no minimum professional standard for someone performing structural repairs on a vehicle carrying an entire family down an interstate?

Our industry wants better technicians. 

We want higher labor rates.

We want consumers to understand the complexity of modern collision repair.

We want insurers to recognize the true cost of proper repairs.

Maybe we also have to accept what comes with being treated like professionals: training, accountability, documentation, equipment requirements and enforceable standards.

And maybe it's time we stopped asking only why our industry doesn't have those standards and start asking who benefits from the fact that we don't.

Because Pistol Pete might be a great guy.

But before he cuts my car in half, welds it back together, paints it and sends me down I-10 at 75 miles per hour with my family inside, I'd at least like somebody to make sure he knows what the hell he's doing.