The Spark That Started It All

A woman holding a baby girl as a man in a black polo shirt and cap signs a document on a clipboard.
Cartoon boy with a purple cap and jacket, holding a lit magic wand, standing on a toolbox in front of a large yellow book or box, smiling.

My dad owned a heating and cooling business. (And still does)
As a kid, I rode shotgun with him in the service van, sometimes in the back, fixing the squeaks.

We’d visit customers, install units, and solve problems. I’d hand him screws, hold the flashlight, and pretend I knew what I was doing.

One day, we stopped by the supply house to pick up parts. The man behind the counter asked,
“So, what are you up to today, kid?”

I puffed up my chest. “Helping my dad.”

He smiled. “You got any tools of your own?”

I shook my head.

He disappeared behind the counter and came back with a screwdriver.
“Here,” he said. “Every good helper needs one of these.”

To him, it was just a screwdriver.
To me, it was electric.

Dad must’ve seen the spark in my eyes, because that day he bought me a toolbox and a starter set of tools.
That was the day everything changed.

Riding in the van with Dad became an education.
Funny thing is, it wasn’t the kind of education I thought I was getting.

Dad never talked much about heating or cooling, not in the technical way I expected.
Instead, he taught me the quiet lessons, the kind you don’t learn from a manual.

  • How to answer the phone with a smile in your voice.

  • How to show up on time.

  • How to fix it right the first time, and fix it again if you didn’t.

  • Keep the van clean on the outside and organised on the inside.

  • Look sharp.

  • Listen to the customer. Really listen.

  • Respect the home you’re standing in.

  • Leave it better than you found it.

At the time, I thought I was learning how to wire a system.
But I was really learning how to treat people with respect and build a reputation.

Years later, when I started my own electrical business, PG Electric, I noticed something funny.

Every time we finished a job, the customer’s reaction was the same: wide-eyed wonder, like we’d just pulled off something extraordinary.

That’s when I’d smile and whisper under my breath,
“Miracle Electric strikes again.”

But here’s the truth: They weren’t miracles.

They were the basics, done right, with care, every single time.

And that’s why I renamed the business Miracle Electric.

I’m Parker Gammon, and I’d love to be your electrician.