Old Fashioned Customer Service; "You'll shoot your eye out, kid."

"It's a major award"

"I TRIPLE dog dare you"

"Oh... fuuudge"

"It's a clinker" 

"Meatloaf, smeatloaf, double-beatloaf."


"Bumpuses!!"

"Those icicles have been known to kill people!"


"Fragile.  That must be Italian."


If, as you read that last quote, the voice in your head pronounced it 'fra-gee-lee' then you know that I am thinking about the greatest Christmas movie ever made (OK, except for It's a Wonderful Life) A Christmas Story.  And, if you have no idea what I am talking about... where have you been?  A major cable channel runs it for 24 hours December 24 &25, that's, like TWELVE times! You've got to see it, you'll love it.


I just LOVE this movie.  It takes me back to my childhood.  No, not in the 1940's (I'm not that old, even though on cold mornings some of my joints FEEL that old).  My youthful memories take place in the 60's and 70's but so many of the events depicted in the film could have been plucked from my past.  Being bundled against the cold in so many layers I could barely move, the annual family trip to pick out the perfect tree, being excited/terrified to meet Santa, watching a friend get his tongue stuck to a pole (the police and fire department didn't come to his rescue, I'll tell you who did later) and the wonderful, glorious, festive magic of a small town Main Street all done up in lights, garland and Holiday finery, ready to provide each shopper with every item on Santa's list... plus that extra gift - Old Fashioned customer service.

When I was a kid we didn't go to 'the mall', there were no megastores, either.  There was a shopping center, but it might as well have been on the moon, it was just too far away for my Mom to pack up her three brawling bundles of joy and head out to for our Christmas shopping.  Nope, we did ALL of our shopping on Main Street, Pompton Lakes, NJ, which, in the early 1970's was the picture perfect example of small town America.  Handsome, solid buildings made of brick and mortar with sheltering awnings, freshly swept sidewalks out front, iron lamp posts, benches for a weary soul to rest,  an actual train station at one end of town and the public library with its huge evergreen all decked out in multi-colored lights at the other.  It was like Norman Rockwell himself had sketched the place, and then, for Christmas, Thomas Kincaide put the finishing touches on it.

Mom would load us into the back of the Hornet (yeah, it was green) and we'd head out for a day of shopping fun.  We'd start at Gelman's Department store, which was the biggest store in town, though small by today's standards.  It had EVERYTHING.  Mom went there especially for clothes, boring for a kid, so I would hide inside the circular racks of coats and dresses driving my sisters crazy when they couldn't find me.  Of course, sometimes I'd lose track of Mom and use my 'special trick' of getting on all fours and scanning the shoes and boots around me until I saw a familiar pair.


After Gelman's, we'd hit the Army & Navy store, record shop, toy store and card/gift boutique.  Two things stand out in my memory.  First, how the heck did Mom manage to get those presents which would show up courtesy of Santa without us seeing her purchase them (?) and, second, that every place we went the clerks and cashier knew my Mom.  They knew her name, they knew my Dad, and, creepily,  they knew me!  At the time I figured it was some weird grown-up thing, like maybe during the day when I was trapped in school all the adults were hanging out or something.  But, now that I am a 'grown-up' I realize what was really going on.  Yes, they did know each other... as customers ... and something more.  The lady in Gelman's knew my Mom because, not only did Mom shop there, the Gelman's lady banked where my Mom worked and Mom helped her balance her checkbook when she couldn't get it to prove.  The girl behind the register at the Army & Navy store had been my babysitter a few years earlier.  And the man who owned the record store was married to the lady who played the guitar for the choir at church.


We weren't just customers, we were neighbors and friends.  We all lived within a few miles of where we worked, played and gathered.  We shared bonds that made us a community and, as such, it was important that our relationships be kept strong and positive.  Not only that, but since we all knew each other, stories of rude or inattentive service would spread like wildfire.  If a merchant wasn't treating his or her customers like valued friends phones would be ringing and folks would be chatting about it on porches and over the backyard fence.  (And that's NOTHING compared to how far, wide and fast a dissatisfied customer can share their tale of woe in today's '4G' world)


Seems to me that we have lost a bit of that 'neighborly' feeling in our interactions these days.  Now we travel an hour to a favorite mall, call retailers that may be located thousands of miles away and Santa Claus even orders online without any 'human' contact at all.  Yes, we are more harried and hurried and want things to be done as quickly as possible, but there is no reason that great customer service should be a fond memory.  I just stopped at my local bank to make a deposit and, while processing my transaction, the pleasant young man behind the counter asked me if had 'any nice plans for the rest of the day'.  At first I was stunned by the question, but then I found myself telling him my plans for the entire weekend... and feeling happy, relaxed and like he cared.  The whole conversation was done by the time my receipt was printed and I left feeling connected to a member of my local community (and, for all I know he may live 40 miles away).  Making a personal connection doesn't need to be intrusive, time-consuming or complicated, it's just taking a moment to 'interact' with each customer in a unique way.

 
My best advice is to treat every  interaction as if the other person is a teacher at your child's school, a woman in your Moms bridge club or the visiting nurse who checks up on your Granddad every day.  You never know, they might be.  But, even if they aren't, even if they are someone you will never meet in a million years, if you make them feel valued  by giving them a great customer service experience you will create a bond that will result in increased loyalty.

Ralphie, the protagonist of A Christmas Story, really wants to find one gift under the tree - an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle!  Every adult he shares this dream with shoots it down (pun intended) with that iconic line "You'll shoot your eye out", including Higbee's rented St. Nick.  Doesn't matter in the end, though, because "Santa! The big man! The head honcho! The connection" (aka Dad) is the penultimate provider of World Class Service and comes through.  However, what happens when Ralphie heads out into the backyard to face off against Black Bart... well, if you don't know you'll just have to watch the movie.


(Oh, and when my pal Steven got stuck...stuck...stuck! to the pole it was Mrs. Byrd who came to his rescue with a glass of warm tap water which quickly freed my foolish friend.  He came away mostly intact, though did get to have a milkshake for supper that night.  Considering the circumstances, none of us kids were envious.)