Taken for fools by those at the top

When things are going well for those at the top of the demolition and construction industry, they adopt many, varied names for the plethora of contractors, sub-contractors, service providers, and suppliers that help them along the way. They are the supply chain, collaborators, specialists, solutions providers, partners, team members, and even—God forbid—a part of the family.

When things go awry at the top, however, when things go sideways, when things go tits-up, all of those words and descriptions are replaced by just one: VICTIMS.

Whether major contractors have fallen victim to economic shifts beyond their control, the fallout from a global pandemic, or they have hit the buffers through excessive ambition or poor management, the end-result is always the same. Those major contractors scratch their beards in dismay and offer explanations and excuses, while those former collaborators and partners are left to lick their wounds. All too often, those within the supply chain are thrown under the financial bus. Those solutions providers are left to seek financial solutions of their own. Those family members are cast off like an errant child.

But let’s not sugarcoat this or pretend it’s a rare occurrence. In this industry, crises are cyclical, just as predictable as the turning of the seasons. The scale of the collapse might vary, but the ripples it sends out are always the same. For every large contractor that folds, dozens—if not hundreds—of smaller companies go down with them. The scaffolding firm that hasn’t been paid for three months. The haulage company still chasing invoices. The welding specialist who delivered a flawless job but won’t see a penny because they’re too far down the payment chain. Each is a domino in a line that stretches farther than the eye can see.

What’s remarkable is the language used when the dust settles. Those at the top speak of "unforeseen circumstances" or "external pressures." Rarely, if ever, do they speak of "mismanagement" or "our failure to plan." No, the blame is deflected—outward, upward, anywhere but inward. It’s an economic version of the blame game, and the casualties are the ones who believed in the promises of partnership, loyalty, and mutual respect.

When times are good, the rhetoric of inclusivity is intoxicating. “We’re all in this together,” they say. Company dinners, team-building days, little awards and trophies, perhaps even a Christmas card signed by the CEO. But when the tide turns, that family bond becomes strangely one-sided. The big players might tighten their belts, delay some projects, and announce a restructuring, but they won’t lose their livelihoods. Meanwhile, the “family” is told there’s no money for overdue payments, no rescue funds for struggling businesses in their network, and no time to return calls.

A family member would lend you a hand when you stumble; in this industry, you’re just as likely to get your fingers stepped on as they rush to protect their own.

And what of the promises? The guarantees, the contracts, the supposed safety nets that are supposed to bind these relationships? They’re written in ink, sure, but in this game, ink is more water-soluble than it appears. When insolvency looms, contracts become meaningless. The small print becomes the large print, and clauses you never noticed suddenly take on critical importance. Legal protections are little comfort when the other party has filed for administration, leaving a queue of creditors fighting for scraps.

Then there’s the psychological toll. Think of the small business owner who built their company from the ground up, who invested not just money but their soul into the work. For them, the collapse of a major contractor is not just a financial disaster—it’s a betrayal. They trusted the big names, perhaps even admired them. They believed the spiel about partnership and shared goals. When it all comes crashing down, they’re not just out of pocket; they’re disillusioned, heartbroken, and often left wondering if they can ever trust anyone in the industry again.

The industry loves to talk about resilience. We hear it in speeches, in trade magazines, at conferences. Resilience is the badge of honour, the mantra that supposedly gets everyone through tough times. But resilience for whom? For the big players who get bailed out, who restructure with a wink and a nod, who quietly slip into new ventures under new names? Or for the small businesses and individual workers who have to start again from scratch, often carrying the scars of their last “partnership”?

There’s a dark irony to all this. The demolition and construction industry prides itself on its ability to build and rebuild, to adapt and innovate. And yet, when it comes to its own internal structures, it’s as fragile as a house of cards. The foundation of trust that should underpin these relationships is paper-thin, and when one card falls, the rest follow in swift succession.

So what’s the solution? Transparency would be a good start. If major contractors were upfront about their financial health, their limitations, their potential vulnerabilities, smaller players could make informed decisions. Instead of being strung along with false promises, they could diversify their client base, plan for contingencies, or even walk away from untenable contracts. But honesty is in short supply when reputations are on the line, and so the cycle continues.

Regulation could play a role, too. Stronger laws around payment practices, stricter penalties for late payments, and protections for smaller businesses caught in the crossfire could create a fairer playing field. But legislation moves at a snail’s pace, and by the time rules are implemented, the damage is often already done.

Ultimately, though, the industry needs a cultural shift. It needs to stop treating smaller businesses as expendable assets and start valuing them as the lifeblood of the sector. Because that’s what they are. Without them, nothing gets built. Nothing gets demolished. Nothing moves forward. The major contractors might be the figureheads, but the real work, the real expertise, the real graft comes from those they so often leave behind when the going gets tough.

In this industry, survival isn’t about resilience—it’s about vigilance. It’s about knowing who you’re dealing with, understanding the risks, and preparing for the day when the phone stops ringing, the payments stop coming, and the family door is slammed shut. Because when things go awry, the only name you’ll be left with is the one at the top of the list of creditors, waiting in line with all the other victims.

So, the next time you hear a big contractor waxing lyrical about their collaborators, partners and their family, take it with a pinch of salt and know that many of them really mean fools, suckers, dupes and fall-guys.

This topic was the subject of an in-depth discussion on today's after show chat. You can listen to the resulting podcast here.