Hunks Hauling Junk

A Florida company hires college hunks to de-junk your abode.

By Jesse Hicks

WHEN ALVIN Nichols found himself with a yard full of construction debris—two-by-fours, windows, and assorted leftovers—he knew he didn’t want to clean it up by himself. Instead, he called 1-800-JUNK-USA and got the Rockville, Maryland, branch of College Hunks Hauling Junk. When two young men showed up in their signature orange-and-green truck, Nichols says, “they dove into a yard full of things I wouldn’t have touched with my bare hands.” And they looked good doing it, unlike some of the crews Nichols had previously hired from sites like Craigslist. “Normally it’s just guys with gloves and a truck,” says Nichols, “and that can put off some people.”

For College Hunks Hauling Junk, their success is all about a clean-cut, professional image. It sets them apart from the stereotype of junk-haulers—the cigar-chomping guy with 5 o’clock shadow, foul temper, and shifty eyes. Take their bright orange cargo truck with its logo depicting the torso of a buff, green-shirted man with pearly whites, rock-solid biceps, and a backwards baseball cap. It gets your attention.

“We’re kind of the poolboys of the 21st century,” says Nick Friedman, 27, with a laugh. He’s tall and tan, a former Pomona College basketball player, with a cleft chin and close-cropped blonde hair. Today he’s dressed in the College Hunks uniform: a green, logoed polo shirt and beige khakis. His partner, Omar Soliman, 26, shares his healthy tan and bright teeth. Despite their own inarguable swoonworthiness, the original hunks say they’re about more than just good looks.

From the beginning, a positive attitude and driving ambition have defined the College Hunks’ business plan. Like many young entrepreneurs, Friedman and Soliman got their start working out of a parent’s home. Friends from their high school days in the Washington, D.C., area, the two went their separate ways during college: Friedman to Pomona in California, and Soliman to the University of Miami. They kept in touch, and every summer they’d reunite in D.C. The two would often deliver orders from the furniture store owned by Soliman’s mother using her dented cargo van.

In the summer of 2003, Friedman had an internship working for the International Monetary Fund—despite the prestigious name, a typical office gig. Soliman, however, wanted something “a little less rigid, a little less dull.” And he wanted to be his own boss. His mother asked if the two had ever considered junk removal—not just moving furniture around for some quick cash, but cleaning out those cluttered spaces in people’s lives. “We put up fliers that said, ‘College Hunks Hauling Junk: Basement, Garage, Attic Clean-Outs,” Friedman recalls. “We knew there was something to the name; that we weren’t your typical junk haulers gave it an allure.”

The two made decent money over the summer, then went back to school for their senior years. They formalized a business plan, which Soliman submitted to University of Miami’s Leigh Rothschild Entrepreneurship Competition. Out of 131 entries, College Hunks took the $10,000 first prize. “That obviously gave us a lot of confidence in the idea,” says Friedman, “Even so, we’d been sort of programmed to follow the path of studying to get good grades, get into a good college, and then get a good corporate job.”

After graduation they both ended up back in D.C., with Soliman working as a marketing representative and Friedman as an economic analyst. A few months later, Friedman decided he’d had enough. “We were both sitting in our cubicles,” he says, “and I e-mailed Omar, ‘What’s your timeline for starting College Hunks Hauling Junk year-round?’ He wrote back, ‘MY TIMELINE IS RIGHT NOW.’” They dusted off the business plan and got started.

Things moved pretty quickly. From the beginning, Soliman and Friedman knew they wanted to be more than local junk haulers: they wanted to be a franchise. Full-scale operations began in the spring of 2005. The two invested in a toll-free number, 1-800-JUNK-USA, and began systematizing their business model, honing it for other geographical areas. In April 2007, they sold their first franchise, covering central Florida, to an Orlando businessman. Looking to expand their franchisee training and call center, in March 2008 they moved to an office complex in Tampa, Florida.

Now they’re about to host their first franchisee convention, so the office is littered with pamphlets and posters. As they prepare, Friedman and Soliman are all business. Friedman ticks off a few numbers: eight trucks and a million dollars in sales in D.C. alone, $2.9 million nationwide. They’ve got 15 franchisees in major metropolitan areas, including Baltimore, Los Angeles, Cincinnati, Chicago, Denver, and San Francisco. Most of those metropolitan areas have locally-based junk-removal companies. But as Soliman and Friedman point out, it’s a highly segmented industry: Most companies serve only a small geographic area. No one has established a nationwide brand, with an instantly recognizable name and reputation. The College Hunks are banking that their clean-cut image, along with the advantages of a franchise model, will help them turn their company into a household name.

Can it work? One company has shown it can. The grandfather of the junk-hauling industry, 1-800-GOT-JUNK, started in 1989 in Vancouver, Canada, when Brian Scudamore needed summer work. He invested in a used pickup, hired students, and now has franchises in more than 300 locations in four countries. Last year, 1-800-GOT-JUNK made $121 million in total revenue. In 2004, Scudamore appeared on MSNBC and threw down the gauntlet, daring any American rivals to challenge him. Scudamore’s numbers make a compelling case, and College Hunks could be the first serious contender to answer his challenge. Indeed, Friedman says, “We’d be happy to be the Burger King to their McDonald’s,” especially since he believes there’s plenty of room for growth. He expects to do $4 million in sales this year, and up to $20 million (among 50 franchises) in 2010.

One factor fueling the growth of College Hunks is a larger trend in America: people with too much stuff trying to “declutter” their lives. Television has already jumped at it. This year’s premier of Clean House drew over a half-million viewers, second-highest in the history of the Style Network. You could also catch HGTV’s Mission: Organization and BBC America’s How Clean Is Your House? Even Oprah’s done special episodes with organizational expert Peter Walsh.

Why now? “We live in a disposable economy,” says Kim Oser of the National Association of Professional Organizers, a nonprofit group that represents organizing consultants, speakers, and authors. “Rather than wearing things out, we throw them out or we keep them, and that creates more clutter.” That clutter has a psychological effect that more and more people are noticing—especially lately, as the economy has taken a downturn and people feel less secure in their lives. “They don’t have control over the economy, but they feel like if they can get their lives in order, then they can control their own space and what’s happening in their homes.”

To Soliman and Friedman, all that decluttering looks like growth. “Our goal,” says Friedman, “is to be in the top 30 metropolitan markets by the end of ’09, the top 50 by the end of ’10, and the top 100 by the end of ’12.” At least one franchising expert, however, thinks that might be too ambitious. “As the economy tightens, consumers will start doing garbage disposal themselves—borrowing a friend’s truck and making a dump run or two,” says Kevin B. Murphy, a franchise attorney and director of operations for San Francisco-based Franchise Foundations.

Friedman and Soliman have already begun compensating for consumer belt-tightening by developing other revenue streams. Foreclosures offer them a new opportunity, as do office clean-outs and commercial work. While homeowners might need junk-removal once a year, corporations need the same service every week. “In terms of longevity, creating that commercial client base will be key,” says Friedman. Capitalizing on those business-to-business relationships, they say, will help College Hunks Hauling Junk weather any coming economic downturn, and even continue to grow.

So it all comes back to that truck, and that iconic hunk. “I remember one property manager didn’t like the idea of inviting College Hunks Hauling Junk, which sounded unprofessional to him, into his class-A office building,” says Friedman. “I think he pictured the guys from Animal House running through the building. That was a challenge when we first started: a couple of 22-year-olds trying to solicit commercial bids.” It took time to win over those corporate clients—time and professionalism. That’s the lesson College Hunks Hauling Junk takes into the future: Being a hunk might get you noticed, but it’s the job you do that keeps you in business.

Jesse Hicks is a freelance writer based in State College, Pennsylvania.