It has long been said that when an organization changes its name, it is usually running from something rather than toward it. That old adage is finding renewed relevance within the mortgage field services industry, where the National Association of Mortgage Field Services—known for decades as NAMFS—has quietly attempted to reinvent itself as the National Asset Management and Field Services. The linguistic gymnastics of this rebrand have baffled even the most seasoned observers, as the name itself feels neither accurate nor purposeful—let alone where is the Association in the name. In an industry where “assets” often refer to foreclosed properties and “field services” refer to the hands that mow, secure, and clean them, one wonders whether NAMFS’ leadership is trying to redefine its mission or simply conceal the fact that little remains to protect. The rebrand came without any publicly supporting IRS documentation, no public filing to explain the shift, and as of this writing, and no IRS Form 990 has been filed since Fiscal Year 2023 — at least in the public search of the IRS. In a sector already infamous for its opacity, NAMFS appears to be perfecting the art of vanishing in plain sight.
The timing of this supposed transformation could not be more cynical. While the rebranded NAMFS board was busy polishing its new moniker, the industry it claims to represent was shaken by the October 21st murder of Field Service Technician Michael Dodge II in Virginia. Dodge’s death, while performing the kind of property preservation work that is essential to the health of the mortgage default ecosystem, underscored the perils faced daily by those on the front lines. Technicians like Dodge enter unknown and often unsafe environments, facing vacant structures, aggressive occupants, and hostile conditions with little more than a work order and a prayer. Inspectors, who perform occupancy checks and document property conditions, are no less exposed. Yet, in the days following Dodge’s killing, the recently opened NAMFS podcast on Spotify remained silent. Not a single public acknowledgment, not a word of sympathy, not even a token statement about safety protocols for those who perform the industry’s dirtiest work.
Instead, what the public saw from the newly christened “National Asset Management and Field Services” was a podcast—hosted by NAMFS board member Kellie Chambers—that discussed profitability, workflow optimization, and the best ways for management to squeeze more revenue from the same shrinking labor pool. Two of the four podcasts were released after Dodge’s murder. Yet even with the industry reeling from tragedy, the so-called thought leaders of field services found no time to mention safety, mental health, or the very real human toll their profit models exact. In one particularly tone-deaf episode recorded the day after Dodge’s death, the discussion turned to “vicious animals” as a safety concern for field workers. It was as if the mauling of the human spirit—the degradation of labor through exploitation and neglect—didn’t warrant even a footnote.
The voice behind the NAMFS podcast, Kellie Chambers, is no stranger to controversy. Before taking up her current role as Chief Operating Officer at G7 Property Group, Chambers was the Chief Operating Officer at Mortgage Specialists, Inc. (MSI), a firm long accused by contractors and Field Service Technicians of wage theft, falsified quality control, and systemic fraud. MSI became emblematic of the rot that festers when an industry’s leadership views labor not as human capital, but as a disposable cost center. That such an individual now represents the moral and intellectual voice of NAMFS speaks volumes about the organization’s priorities. Her presence on the board and at the helm of the podcast not only reflects continuity with NAMFS’ troubled past but amplifies the very disregard for labor that critics have documented for years.
If the rebrand was meant to convey renewal, it has failed spectacularly. “National Asset Management and Field Services” reads less like an evolution and more like a misdirection. The word “mortgage” has been scrubbed from the name, as if distance from the industry’s most visible pain points could absolve NAMFS of its past failures. But the nonprofit’s refusal to file updated IRS documentation, release copies of their IRS 990 as required by federal law, or even issue a formal announcement suggests something deeper: a strategic retreat from transparency. Without current Form 990s, stakeholders and the public are left in the dark about NAMFS’ financial health, its funding sources, and its leadership structure. It is as if the organization has chosen to exist only as a nameplate—a ghost nonprofit trading on the last fumes of credibility.
The tragedy of Michael Dodge II is not an isolated event. It is the culmination of decades of neglect by an industry that profits from the distance between decision-makers and the laborers who execute their policies. Field Service Technicians and Inspectors operate without the protections afforded to employees, classified instead as independent contractors in a legal shell game designed to minimize liability and suppress wages. The lack of safety training, inadequate hazard pay, and near-total absence of institutional support have created a system where danger is simply part of the job description. And while Dodge’s death was an extreme outcome, the everyday violence of neglect—the unspoken injuries, the unpaid invoices, the silent trauma—continues unabated.
For years, NAMFS positioned itself as the “voice of the industry,” claiming to bridge the divide between contractors and clients. In reality, it has functioned more like a trade guild for management firms, shielding them from scrutiny while offering little more than token outreach to labor. Its conferences, webinars, and press releases consistently center on profitability, compliance, and corporate reputation, with safety relegated to a PowerPoint slide between networking sessions. The podcast, in this sense, is simply the next iteration of the same cynical performance: a means to preserve relevance while sidestepping responsibility.
To the technicians and inspectors who make up the backbone of this industry, the rebrand feels like a final betrayal. Many of them had hoped that after years of scandals—ranging from nonpayment to data breaches—NAMFS might turn inward, confront its failures, and advocate for real reform. Instead, it has opted for a new coat of paint on a collapsing structure. The fact that it would choose this moment, amid loss of life and disillusionment, to roll out a marketing facelift rather than a moral reckoning speaks to how deeply detached its leadership has become from the realities of the field.
The broader question is what role, if any, remains for a trade association that appears to neither files its taxes properly nor speaks to the welfare of its constituents. A nonprofit’s legitimacy rests on transparency and accountability—two qualities NAMFS appears determined to avoid. Without public filings, without acknowledgment of tragedy, without even the decency to name the dead, the organization has forfeited its claim to moral authority. Whether by incompetence or design, it now stands as a symbol not of unity, but of decay.
In the end, the rebranding of NAMFS may achieve precisely what it was intended to do: delay the inevitable reckoning. By changing its name and erasing its history, it can hide from creditors, confuse watchdogs, and repackage itself to unsuspecting newcomers. But for those who have been in the industry long enough to remember the pattern—the promises, the fraud of its membership, the unpaid labor, the deaths—it is a hollow trick. The truth remains unchanged. The mortgage field services industry is built on the backs of Field Service Technicians and Inspectors, and until the organizations that claim to represent it begin to value their lives as much as their profits, every rebrand will be nothing more than a smokescreen for collapse.
If you would like to see change, real change, reach out to the International Association of Field Service Technicians (IAFST) and use the code NEWMEMBER10 to join today! Unlike NAMFS, whose pay raises have only benefited folks like Kellie Chambers, the IAFST puts its money where its mouth is. $10 for your first year and if you qualify, the IAFST Dodge Memorial Fund may be available to assist with both your membership and education through the IAFST University!
