Dew sparkled on the grass blades like crystal freckles strewn across Mother Nature’s face. It was a pretty morning after a stormy night, and I waited with quiet acceptance for the deliverymen to arrive. I had been given a time frame for their arrival, but not a definitive appointment.
In today’s world the norm holds that the customer can wait. We wait in line at fast food restaurants, at grocery stores, at movie theaters, and at the DMV. When a service call is needed—say for a repair on an appliance—we’re told that the service person will arrive between 8 a.m. and noon, or between noon and 5 p.m.. Maybe. Frustrated because our day is given over to the unknown, we gulp and agree because we feel we have no choice.
Over the years I have become sensitive to customer service, and tend to frequent places that make me feel like I matter. Hopefully, I let them know their efforts matter to me as well.
I can think of a local restaurant that some of my family will not visit. They feel it is beneath their standards. And yet my husband and I go there almost weekly. Sure the wallpaper has seen better days and the bathrooms need updating. But it is a family owned place and we’ve watched their kids grow up. When we walk in they smile and seat us like old friends, and in a way, I hope we are. The mom stops by to chat with us for a while, and the dad pokes his head out of the kitchen and gives a wave. We happen to like their food too, but it is the totality of the experience that brings us back time and again.  Although we are two of endless customers, a relationship has developed.
Today, as I waited for the deliverymen, I accepted that I would be a hostage until they appeared. Afraid to even walk the dog for a few minutes in case I missed a telephone call alerting me to their impending arrival, I busied myself with computer work.
The doorbell rang and I bounded to the door. The servicemen introduced themselves and one handed me a carnation. They then asked permission to enter, if I would prefer they take off their shoes first, and where I would like the item placed. I was blown away.
Moments after the deliverymen left, the company called and wanted to know if I was satisfied with the product and the delivery. Uhhhh, yes!
I placed my carnation into a bouquet of peonies, and pondered the wonders of old-fashioned customer service. It was the best part of my day.
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