Recently, things have not been running as smoothly as one might hope in Max’s World, where the colors are brighter, the butterflies are bigger, the flowers smell sweeter, and the birds sing louder (in harmony).

A few months ago, my wife (Gigi the Gorgeous) and I were obliged to invest in a new HVAC system. This was not cheap, but it came with a 10-year parts and labor warranty, which went some way to mitigating the pain.

This bodacious beauty is a dual-fuel heat pump system. It utilizes a heat pump for efficient cooling in the summer and for heating when outdoor temperatures are moderate. When the temperature outside drops too low for the heat pump to operate efficiently, the system automatically switches to a natural-gas furnace for supplemental or backup heat.

Everything was going smoothly until a few days ago, when the temperature plummeted. The HVAC automatically switched over to its natural-gas furnace—at which point smoke and ash began pouring from the ceiling vents.

It’s fortunate we were home at the time and could immediately hit the “kill switch,” as it were. Had this occurred while we were out and about, we might well have returned to find a smoldering ruin.

On the bright side, we now know that all the smoke detectors in our house are fully operational (some might say “exuberantly” so). In fact, we discovered two that we didn’t even know we had.

We called the HVAC company (which shall remain nameless). They raced around to determine what was going on. It turned out that their installer had mistakenly left the installation manual inside the unit. “Ruh Roh” (as Scooby Doo didn’t say, because this was Astro’s catchphrase from The Jetsons).

Now, anyone can make a mistake (although this one was certainly a doozy). What’s important is how a company addresses its mistakes. In this case, they rose to the occasion magnificently, promising to replace the unit and clean the ducts at their expense. But that was going to take time, and we were fighting our way through a smoke-filled house.

I’ve never been in this situation before. I feared the smoke had penetrated the soft furnishings—curtains, cushions, upholstery, carpets, rugs, and the like.

I’m sure you’ve seen those TV ads for restoration companies promising to “make it like it never happened.” The problem is, when push comes to shove, you can never remember the names of those companies. And even if you could, you’ve no idea which ones are good—and which ones are the other sort (you know what I mean).

So, I did what I always do at times like this… I called my friend Carpenter Bob. He’s the hero who helped me make a reproduction of an 1820 Welsh Dresser for Gigi a couple of years ago (see Just Call Me a Woodworking Fool, Squirming in Excitement Awaiting the Great Unveiling, and Squirm No More: All Is Revealed!).

Bob is a master craftsman—the kind of person people call when they have a 15th-century, hand-carved wooden sofa that needs repair. And if they then decide they want a matching reproduction for the other side of the room—well, that’s Bob’s sort of challenge. (That’s a real-world example, by the way.) As a result, Bob knows everyone worth knowing who needs to be known… and I know Bob.

Bob told me to call Rudy Beckert, who is the president of Rocket City Restoration. So, I called Rudy and explained the situation. Rudy offered to come round that afternoon, but I asked him to hold off a couple of days until things settled down—we wanted to tidy up a bit first.

Rudy said that wasn’t a problem, but that he was going to send “two of his lads” around first thing in the morning with some industrial-sized air scrubbers equipped with high-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filters. He said they would get there at 7:00 am, before I left for work, ring the doorbell, and leave them on the front porch. He finished by saying, “No charge.”

I’m accustomed to companies providing a 4-hour window for them to arrive and then failing to meet it. So, you can only imagine my surprise and delight the following morning when the doorbell rang on the stroke of 7 o’clock (they must have been waiting on the porch, counting down the seconds). Rudy later told me that everyone at the company takes pride in following up on calls and arriving on time. This should be standard operating procedure for any company, but it’s not, which is just one of the things that makes Rocket City Restoration stand “proud in the crowd,” as it were.

These air-scrubbing units are amazing. We put one at either side of the house, opened all the internal doors, and powered them on. The last vestiges of the smell of smoke had disappeared within 24 hours.

We’ve been so lucky. It turns out that the smoke didn’t penetrate the soft furnishings or carpets. It seems that it mainly lingered in the air rather than in the fabrics. As you can imagine, this is a huge relief.

Rudy came to pick up his air scrubbers this morning. I told him that we felt guilty because we didn’t actually require his company’s services. I offered to pay for his time, as well as the loan of the air scrubbers and the replacement of their HEPA filters. He replied that when he said “No charge,” that’s what he meant, and that he was delighted that Rocket City Restoration’s services were not required.

All I can say is that if we ever fall prey to a fire or flood in the future, I know who I’m going to call—and it won’t be the Ghostbusters.