Tired of Being a Good Egg

By Dean Meadors

I stood there, intended purchase in hand, waiting for the clerk’s discussion with her supervisor to end.

“But I thought I was off Monday,” she whined. “Why can’t Debbie work?” 

Her boss mumbled something about Debbie covering for Marsha next week, then told her there had to be at least two persons in the store at all times. She whined some more. 

Finally, I cleared my throat, making a sound akin to a trumpet. She walked off and he recognized my presence. “May I help you,” he said. It wasn’t a question…it was a memory trick. 

I debated briefly with myself about reminding him I was a customer, and that my interest in listening to drug store employees talk about their work schedules was slightly less than my interest in the computational techniques of ad valorem tax rates. 

But, like most Americans, I said nothing. I paid and left. 

What is most annoying about the bad customer service I receive in many local businesses is my own willingness to accept it. Giving the offender a disgusted look is usually all I do. 

Instead, I should complain. I should ask for the manager, explain the errant ways of his employees and remind him the store needs me more than I need the store. Then, if he doesn’t apologize sincerely, thrash him to within an inch of his life. 

But I don’t. I walk out quietly, leaving the store in happy contentment they are doing a helluva job. But in truth, walking out quietly only assures me bad service next time. 

When the service goes beyond simply bad, I might be provoked to fill out a comment card, which I did recently at a Le Peep restaurant in Dallas after an experience so bad and so multi-faceted there is not space here to describe it. 

My dining adventure was more than two months ago. I filled out their comment card, carefully detailing the problems I encountered, and included my name and address. I never heard back. Not a peep, so to speak. 

As long as I’m naming names, let me tell you of another recent experience with customer service. Happily, this one was on the other side of the coin. 

I have flown heavily in most of the jobs I have had. I’ve been on many thousands of flights, and most were smooth, pleasant, safe and wonderfully boring. But every once in a while—every few hundred flights or so—frequent flyers will experience The Flight From Hell. 

I had one on American Airlines. Everything went wrong—mechanical problems, delayed departure, rough weather, airsick passengers, angry passengers, diverted destination, everything. Even my salad was wilted. 

I never said a word. I didn’t complain, didn’t write a letter, nothing. I got off the plane, glad the experience was over, and forgot about it. 

Several weeks later, I received a letter from American that began, “It’s pretty hard to find any silver linings in the clouds—and thunderstorms—that profoundly affected our operation at Dallas/Fort Worth on March 11.”

The letter went on to briefly mention the events of the day, then added, “I’m not going to minimize your experience by trying to explain the challenges we faced, but I do sincerely apologize for what happened.” 

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. 

“We simply lost control of the situation,” the letter said, “and there’s just no good excuse for that.” It was the first time a company had ever apologized to me without my even complaining. And it was the first time I’ve heard any company forthrightly admit they lost control of the situation. American didn’t weasel and they didn’t blame someone else. 

I assume everyone on the flight, or at least all AAdvantage members, got a copy. And in the age of computers, it just wasn’t all that hard to do. 

But the letter was prompt, it was specific, it demonstrated they cared about their customers…and it highlighted yet another reason why American is the most preferred airline in the country. 

Every company these days talks about customer service. I think it probably has replaced the weather for that honor. But you see way too little of it in everyday life. 

So why can’t a simple egg restaurant hatch the same idea?