I fix screens.
No, not those kinds of screens.
Okay yes—also those kinds of screens.
Let me explain.
I’m Marc Anderson from Barrie, Ontario (north end, if we’re getting specific—which we are because this isn’t some vague, fancy, “corporate values” page written by a guy named Chad in marketing).
Everyone around here knows me as the screen repair guy.
You crack your phone? I fix it. Your iPad screen looks like it went ten rounds with a cheese grater? I'm your guy.
I’ve been fixing phones for as long as I can remember, and for a while, that was my whole identity.
I even named the site after it: barriescreenrepair.com. I know—clever, right?
Every. Single. Summer…
I start getting calls.
“Hey, do you fix window screens?”
And I’d say, “Nope, I do phone screens. As in the ones with apps. Not bugs.”
“Okay, thanks anyway.”
Click.
They’d call again next summer.
And the summer after that.
And again. And again.
Apparently, nobody wants to read the website.
Because it says very clearly (in big font): I DO NOT FIX WINDOW SCREENS.
But did that stop the calls? Not even a little.
I treated those calls like spam at first.
“Window screens? Pfft. I’m a tech repair guy. I have standards.”
But the truth? Sales were slumping. Hard.
So I started praying.
I said, “Jesus, I need a sign. A little help. Something.”
And He said, “How about 57 voicemails about window screens?”
I didn’t listen for years.
Plot twist: God was answering the whole time—I just had Him on silent.
In 2024, I finally cracked.
I said yes.
Yes to the calls.
Yes to window screens.
Yes to stepping way, waaay out of my comfort zone.
Was it an enthusiastic yes?
Not exactly.
It was the kind of yes you say when someone asks, “Do you like to grow as a person?”
And you go, “Totally!” while mentally screaming, “No! I thrive on predictable pants, the same smoothie every morning, and Old Dutch chips that burn my tongue with too much salt and vinegar—in a good way.”
I didn’t know a thing about fixing a window screen.
Not a single clue about patio doors.
I mean, my own sliding screen door was busted for two straight years.
I stepped over it like a welcome mat.
So when someone actually paid me to fix theirs, I smiled and said,
“Oh yeah, super easy!”
(Then immediately Googled “how to fix patio screens for complete idiots.”)
And guess what? I figured it out.
Turns out when you’re forced to grow—you grow.
Turns out I’m pretty decent at this.
Turns out people really need this service, and have no idea who to call.
It started small. But it felt right.
And in 2025, I’m making it official:
Introducing: WindowRises.com
Bug screens. Patio screens. Sliding door screens that wobble like a busted shopping cart—I fix those.
I’m starting with the basics. But the vision? Big.
Coming soon?
Security screens. Security shutters. And if the stars (and wiring) align—automated smart blinds that open and close like magic.
Because this isn’t just about screens.
It’s about building something that opens windows and possibilities.
We’re talking five-seasons-resort-in-Puerto-Rico kind of big.
(Not the sad El Cheapo Playa where you sip warm juice from a cracked plastic cup.)
We’re aiming for ocean views, umbrella drinks, and legacy-building generosity kind of big.
And yes, I still fix phones. Yes, I still mess up sometimes.
But I’ve got something stronger than expertise:
I’ve got grit. Prayer. And 3 sons who believe in me (even the one who keeps running headfirst into walls for fun).
Once WindowRises starts doing what I fully believe it will—take off like a screen door in a windstorm—my plan is to hand off the cell phone business to my oldest son.
There are still loads of customers who count on us for mobile repairs, and the business deserves someone focused and sharp.
And hey—nothing beats hiring your own family.
They already know your quirks, your chip preferences, and which screwdriver you always lose.
But the real reason?
I need to give WindowRises 100% of my energy, my time, and my full attention.
Because I’m not doing this halfway.
I want to grow this thing into a real business, a big business, the kind that doesn’t just buy one trip to the Five Seasons in Puerto Rico…
It buys as many as I can take.
(And maybe a few for the boys too, if they behave.)
This is personal.
Some of you know me. You’ve seen me around town. We’ve talked. You’ve met my kids.
You’ve come to my home for a repair and been greeted by a friendly “hi” from one of my boys through the screen door.
You’ve probably seen my wife inside wrangling the littlest one or making smoothies.
A lot of you know my family.
And honestly—how amazing is that?
I have a connection to you.
You have a connection to us.
You know exactly who you’re doing business with, and who benefits from every dollar that goes in my pocket:
My kids. My wife. My life. My love.
This page is for you.
It’s not corporate fluff.
There’s no team of execs high-fiving in a boardroom.
Just me—doing what I can, with what I’ve got, for the people who trust me.
A Honda that smells like peanut butter and hustle
A burning desire to help people
A humble-but-growing business built from real relationships
A prayer that this becomes something big enough to change my family’s future
You know who you are:
The Glass King (I like calling you that—I hope you don't mind. If you do, too late, it’s canon now.)
Mark the Automation Guy (your brain runs at 200 mph and I’m still taking notes)
Mr. Bevan of the Insurance World (thank you)
Justin from GroundsGuys (you’ve got that grounded wisdom—pun intended—and a business hustle I truly admire. Thanks for the real talk, the encouragement, and reminding me to dream a little bigger.)
You gave me business wisdom when I thought I was just handing back a phone.
You planted seeds. This? This is the harvest.
And now, I want to build something you'll be proud to say,
"Yeah, I know that guy. He actually pulled it off."
I want to create something you'll tell your friends about—
Not because you’re being polite,
but because it’s actually good.
You motivate me.
I look at what you’ve done, and I think:
If you can build something real, something lasting—
why the heck can’t I?
So this is me.
Taking the shot.
Backed by my family, fueled by Old Dutch ketchup chips and blueberry smoothies,
and inspired by people like you who showed me it was possible.
Now I know—I’m starting to sound like one of those Oscar winners who ignores the music and just keeps thanking people like they’re holding the show hostage.
But hey, when people plant seeds in your life, you don’t skip the credits.
You roll them. Loud and proud.
I’ll show up. I’ll learn what I don’t know. I’ll fix what’s broken.
I’ll treat your project like I’m fixing it for my own home.
And I’ll keep going until I’ve built something my sons can be proud of—and maybe, one day, run themselves.
If you think like me, you already know the power of a great story.
Stories are what connect us.
They’re what take a tiny thought in your head and grow it into something real—
sometimes a business, sometimes a dream, sometimes just a better life.
Stories build companies.
They change the world.
Or at the very least, they help one customer at a time.
One relationship at a time.
That’s how I’m building this.
And if you’ve read this far?
There’s a good chance you get it.
Maybe you see yourself somewhere in here.
Maybe you’re chasing something too, or just needed a little reminder that all this means something.
The last step?
Reach out.
Want to get in touch? Hire us? Tell me my story inspired you or made you laugh-snort into your coffee?
Contact us. We'll actually write back.
Welcome to WindowRises.com
Where your screen (and my life) is finally on track.
Your Neighbour,
Marc Anderson
