It sounds nostalgic, I know. But, it was a kinder, gentler time filled with smaller, locally owned and operated businesses that both catered to and cared about their clients.
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Some were larger, some smaller, but just about all of them had a vested interest in your continued patronage. They hired grown ups — men and women who considered mastering their profession an intrinsic part of their job description. Some even took a bit of pride in their ability to serve or solve problems rather than create them, and they considered the loss of a client a personal failure.
They were dedicated, disciplined and discriminating in both how and with whom they chose to do business.
I know it seems hard to believe, but that’s really the way it was. Or at least it’s the way I remember it. It’s different today with low margin, high volume, indifferent service — if you can call it service — limited inventory and lack of attention to anything, least of all, detail. The basics have been abandoned and the value of a client is now totally beyond the comprehension of the everyday, run-of-the-mill employee.
If you don’t believe me, let me share a recent experience.
My wife has begun the project of all projects. She is cleaning up and cleaning out the entire house. Room by room, closet by closet, drawer by drawer — nothing is protected, nothing sacred or sacrosanct.
I’d complain, but I’m terrified I’ll wind up sitting at the curb in the middle of all my stuff one Wednesday morning waiting for the trash truck to come by. You see, we’re finally at the end of a long period of stress and anxiety following my father’s illness and death and my mother’s prolonged struggle with Alzheimer’s and her passing.
We were at the center of their care and served as the repository of all their papers, documents and interaction with every hospital, doctor, nurse and/or government agency. If you’ve been there, you know the sheer weight of responsibility is staggering and the mountain of paper incomprehensible!
My wife has decided that if she can gain control of the paper, she can regain control of our lives. Hence, a spring cleaning, albeit at the beginning of August.
In cleaning out nearly every dark corner of our house, she has unearthed and rediscovered a veritable treasure trove of ‘stuff.’ For example, she found a bunch of inkjet cartridges, some for printers that have long since gone to the great office in the sky. I write late at night, generally. However, I still use hard copies to edit my work. Because few places would be open if I happen to run out, I always make sure to have extra.
Unfortunately, the cartridges have outlasted the printers all too often, which meant a run to the local office supply super store to see if I could return or recycle what was left. The problem? The super store turned out to be anything but super, even after I explained that I wasn’t looking for cash or even a store credit. I was going to take what ever they offered and apply it to the purchase of new merchandise — new merchandise I would be purchasing from them.
After what seemed like a lifetime of deliberation, I was informed by the young man trying to decide what to do with me that, in fact, he wasn’t going to be able to do anything at all. One cartridge had expired, two were only worth a few pennies and the two remaining cartridges that had any value at all hadn’t been purchased from their store. At least there was no record of the purchase, despite a clear record I had purchased many other cartridges there. He would accept them at their recycled value, but not for credit.
I thanked him and drove two miles to the other office super store in our community, walked in, put the same bag on their counter and explained what I would like to do if they let me. The store manager — a grown-up — looked at the bag, scanned the cartridges, asked me what I was looking for, told me where to find it and then asked if I’d be willing to get it while he calculated the credit. I went, got the pen and pencil set I was looking for, added a few refills, walked back to the counter, received a $45 refund for the cartridges and proceeded to ring up more than $70 in sales.
It may have been a big-box super store, but the manager had a very small store, hometown attitude!
One merchant ran the business and a customer off. The other decided that if a customer was going to spend his money somewhere, anywhere, it was going to be with him.
Did I buy the cartridges from him? Probably, but I’m not sure. Will I buy everything else I need from him in the future? What do you think?
One merchant made me feel like he really wanted to help me. The other made me feel like he really wanted me to go away. Both got their wish.
