Kathleen Collier
Denver, Colorado
Kathleen Collier
Denver, Colorado
On May 14th, I officially hit 29 years at Johnstone Supply.
Twenty-nine.
At this point, new employees probably assume I came with the company like the forklifts and the fluorescent lighting.
How This All Started
I started here in 1997 after applying for a job from a classified ad in an actual newspaper.
A newspaper.
Which means half the people reading this are now realizing I apparently began my career shortly after the invention of electricity.
There was no LinkedIn. No Indeed. No online application portal. No uploading resumes into “candidate experience platforms.” You circled jobs in the newspaper like a pioneer and hoped for the best.
And somehow that tiny classified ad completely changed the direction of my life.
Back then, fax machines were considered cutting-edge technology, people printed MapQuest directions like survival documents, we printed literally everything, and if you needed someone immediately, you just wandered the warehouse yelling their name until they appeared.
Which honestly still works sometimes.
From Five People to Forty-Five
When I started, we were a tiny one-store operation with about five employees.
Five.
“Departments” were mostly just whoever happened to answer the phone first.
Today, we’ve grown into a multi-branch operation with around 45 employees, multiple locations, a HUB distribution center, leadership teams, warehouse operations, technology systems, endless meetings, and approximately 73,000 moving parts on any given Tuesday.
And somewhere along the way, it stopped being just “a business.”
Because now it’s 45 employees with families, kids, mortgages, car payments, medical bills, college tuition, retirement plans, vacations they’re trying to save for, and real lives connected to the success of this company.
Which is both incredibly meaningful… and occasionally mildly terrifying when you wake up at 3 AM thinking about operational decisions. Nothing gives perspective quite like realizing people are trusting leadership not to accidentally drive the whole thing into a ditch.
No pressure.
From Accountant to “Chaos Coordinator”
Watching that kind of growth from the inside over nearly three decades has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. And honestly, one of the wildest parts is realizing how much my own role evolved alongside the company.
I started in accounting.
Very traditional. Very organized. Very “I will quietly balance things in the background.”
Which is hilarious now.
Because somewhere along the way, my role slowly evolved from accounting into operations, leadership, project management, problem solving, strategic planning, process improvement, technology implementation, lease negotiations, HR-adjacent conversations, vendor negotiations, culture building, and occasionally what I can only describe as “professional chaos coordinator.”
At some point, people just started bringing me everything. Questions. Problems. Projects. Ideas. Fires. Other fires. And the occasional emotional support situation.
So while my title may have evolved over the years, the reality is my role became: “Help run the show and keep the wheels attached.”
Some days more successfully than others.
What’s even funnier is that if you had looked at my education and career path on paper, absolutely nobody would have predicted this ending.
I have dual majors in Public Relations and Accounting,minors in Marketing and Naval Science,an MBA, and enough additional certifications over the years to make LinkedIn aggressively enthusiastic.
Honestly, it’s beautiful in its own weird way. Some people use their degrees to become investment bankers or consultants. I used mine to become deeply emotionally invested in inventory movement, operational flow, negotiations, pricing matrices, and whether someone remembered to invoice propane.
And the crazy part? I genuinely love it.
The Family Business Thing
The thing about a family-owned company is that it stops feeling like “just a job” pretty quickly.
Over the years, this company became intertwined with weddings, funerals, vacations interrupted by phone calls, emergency inventory problems, after-hours texts, impossible deadlines, and the kind of shared stress that somehow turns into lifelong friendships.
In a family business, you don’t just watch the company grow. You watch people grow up.
I’ve watched second generation leadership step in and help shape the future of the business. Now the third generation is actively leading daily operations. And somehow we’re now talking about the fourth generation arriving, which feels deeply unfair because I still think the early 2000s were about five years ago.
There’s something really special about seeing a company continue through generations. The history matters. The relationships matter. The loyalty matters.
And yes… sometimes the dysfunction also matters.
Because family businesses are unique. They’re passionate and chaotic and personal and emotional and stubborn and incredibly resilient all at the same time. People care deeply here. Sometimes loudly. Sometimes through “quick chats” that become 47-minute operational debates. Whether we’re debating inventory or refrigerant pricing, the history and the loyalty matter. Even the dysfunction matters, because it’s our dysfunction.
What 29 Years Actually Teaches You
The funniest part is that after 29 years, people assume you have all the answers.
Absolutely not. I just panic more efficiently now.
Experience mostly means:
Like a very tired business psychic.
The People
One of the best parts of these 29 years has been the people.
I’ve worked alongside warehouse teams who outwork everyone while pretending they’re not annoyed. Counter teams who somehow juggle customers, phones, quotes, and interruptions every 14 seconds. Drivers who know more about operations than leadership sometimes realizes. Managers who carry stress most people never see. And owners who built something meaningful and kept fighting through every market cycle imaginable.
There are people here I’ve watched get married, buy homes, have kids, lose parents, celebrate milestones, struggle through hard seasons, and accomplish things they never thought they could do.
That part matters more than sales numbers or buildings or spreadsheets ever will.
Although… to be fair… I do still love a really good spreadsheet.
And through all of it, there has always been humor. I think humor is one of the reasons good companies survive. Because some days in business are incredible, some days are exhausting, and some days involve solving six major problems before 8AM while your coffee gets cold three separate times. If you can still laugh together at the end of those days, you’re probably building something worthwhile.
A Note About Jay
One thing I know for sure is that none of this happens without support at home.
So somewhere in this anniversary post, there should probably be a public thank you to my husband Jay, who married someone that genuinely does not understand the concept of work-life balance and somehow loves me anyway.
This man has lived through late-night operational spirals, vacation interruptions, “quick emails” at 9:30 PM, me mentally reorganizing warehouses during dinner, and countless conversations that started with: “Okay, but listen to what happened today…”
And through all of it, he’s been supportive, patient, grounding, and willing to listen to far more discussions about inventory, leases, rebates, staffing, and refrigerant pricing than any normal human should ever endure.
Frankly, that level of commitment deserves its own service award.
What I Now Know About HVAC (Against My Will)
After 29 years in HVAC distribution, I now know a deeply concerning amount about the industry itself. Far more than I ever planned.
I can now hold real conversations about rooftop units, residential unitary equipment, mini splits, A2L transitions, refrigerant phase-outs, EPA rulings, SEER changes, duct design, static pressure, warranty policies, and why one manufacturer’s equipment shortage is about to ruin everyone’s week.
This is especially ironic because none of this was remotely part of my original life plan.
I have become the kind of person who notices rooftop units while driving, casually discusses refrigerant transitions at dinner, and has absolutely caught herself judging equipment installs in restaurants. I know more about efficiency regulations than any accounting major reasonably should.
At this point, I can walk into a hotel room and immediately start mentally evaluating the PTAC unit.
Normal people: “What a nice room.” Me: “Huh. Interesting choice on the thermostat. Wonder who supplied this PTAC. Also that thing sounds like it’s two maintenance cycles away from giving up on life.”
I wish I were exaggerating. I’m not.
You’re welcome, refrigerant industry.
29 Years Later
Twenty-nine years later, I’m incredibly grateful.
Grateful for the trust. Grateful for the relationships. Grateful for the opportunities. Grateful for the mistakes. Grateful for the chaos, honestly — because even the hard years taught me something.
The longer I stay here, the more I realize this career has never just been about HVAC distribution. It’s been about building something together over time. Helping people grow. Creating opportunities. Taking care of customers. Supporting each other through hard seasons. And occasionally arguing passionately over things most normal people would never understand. Like refrigerant supply. Or pricing. Or whose turn it was to refill the coffee.
If I could go back and talk to that nervous 22-year-old Kathleen walking into Johnstone on her first day in 1997, I’d probably say this: Relax. It’s going to be okay. You’re not going to have everything figured out. You’re going to make mistakes. You’re going to stress way too much. You’re going to care deeply about work-life balance someday… and then mostly ignore your own advice. You’re going to learn things you never imagined learning. You’re going to become stronger than you realize. You’re going to help build something meaningful. And one day you’ll look around and realize these people became a huge part of your life. Also: you’re going to know an alarming amount about refrigerants for someone with a PR degree.
And most importantly — the hard days won’t define the story. The people will.
After 29 years, here’s what I know for sure:
Here’s to 29 years. And to Year 30 — which I assume will finally be calm, organized, predictable, and completely free of operational chaos.
So basically… see you all Monday.
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