Good Customer

A fella appreciates honesty. It can renew faith in humanity.

It was a zoo yesterday at the old barn. It was particularly hectic between around 10 until Noon, where literally one customer after another (and three at a time twice) waited, all of them patiently to their credit, for service. I haven't had a run of business like that in quite a long while. 

One customer returned 15 minutes or so after I had done a quick fix on his snake. My first thought was a lament: "What's wrong? Did I not do the job right? Rats. I don't need this right now."

But that wasn't it. "Hey Cosgriff! I forgot to pay you," he said upon opening the Shop door.

I didn't realize he hadn't. It completely slipped my mind. Things were so hectic that as soon as I finished his job I had simply thanked him, and he me, and left without either of us thinking about the money aspect. All was totally incidental on both of us. 

I would likely had never given it a second thought. I'd have assumed he paid. He's a long time customer and completely trustworthy, as he proved by returning. 

Work was a mess yesterday. Yet that one bright spot made it all worthwhile. 

Weekly Disorder

Today is, what, Thursday? Thursday, correct? So tomorrow is Friday. The day after Thursday is Friday, am I right? And Wednesday precedes Thursday, for that matter. I have my facts straight, then?

Then why, dear customer who did it, were you calling me on Wednesday to see if the repair I promised you for Friday was ready?

"I'm not rushing you Cosgriff. I'm just checking." Uh-huh.

Look, if I promise you Friday it will be ready on Friday, the good Lord willing and the creek don't rise. If however you call on Friday and I have indeed forgotten or somehow not delivered on my promise, we'll deal with that then and with my sincere apologies. But until then, please remember that Friday is after Thursday, which comes after Wednesday. Understand?

Injury to Insult

A long time customer called yesterday for a price on an admittedly expensive item. I told him upfront that it was pricey, so I believe I was playing fair with him. I then told him the price. "Wow," he exclaimed. "You are high."

Okay, dude, you kind of insulted me there. My prices are fair and competitive (as you should know by now), and I warned you that what you were asking for had a significant cost. Further, you don't have to pay it. You don't want to buy it from me, don't buy it from me. No harm, no foul. There's no obligation on your part and I freely recognize that. Indeed, I appreciate you giving me the chance for the sale in the first place. But your remark indicates that you think maybe I'm cheating you. I don't take that kindly.

Then he blurts out, "Is there anywhere else I can get it?"

That started the insulting all over again, but I tried to make a joke of it, even if a veiled barb. "It's not exactly a standard business practice for me to keep a ready list of competitors who beat my price, for referral to my customers." 

I think he got the point. "Uh, I'm sorry, Marty. I didn't mean nothing." The truth is, he probably didn't, so I stayed cool. And he did buy the part; I have his check in hand as I type. Still, I can't help but feel just a little put out just the same.

Anybody Home?

Adrian is a small town in Lenawee County Michigan, about 90 minutes southwest of Detroit. It's the kind of place I wouldn't mind making a home: small town living close enough to the big city for big city conveniences. I was just there yesterday.

The profusion of cell phones means that cities such as Adrian are very close. Close enough that customers can easily reach you, as one did me late yesterday afternoon. He wanted to drop off his machine for repair. "I'm sorry, but no one's there. Me brother Phil has the day off, and I'm in Adrian. Bring it to my shop tomorrow," I explained.

"Oh. Well, could I bring it now and you check it tomorrow?"

Oh-kay. I re-explained (in little words with a very precise cadence) that I was an hour and a half from the old barn and Phil was not available, so that there was nobody there to leave it with. What I did not ask (although I wanted to) was, what part of  'I'm in Adrian, bring it tomorrow' was not clear in the first place?

I'll give you a dime to a dollar he doesn't show after all.

Love Hate Relationship

I love, and by that I mean I hate, when customers try to assure me that a repair they want done will be easy. I'm sure I've been crabby about that before, among other things. In fact, I'm rather crabby now.

I'll say it again, I'll shout it from the rooftops, I will put it in as plain a language as I can: until I know exactly what is causing the trouble, and until I determine how to fix the problem, and until the necessary repair is complete and a unit is operating properly, no job is easy. It's easy when it's done, in which case rightly speaking it was easy. Easy only applies in the past tense. Easy never applies to the future tense, nor will it fit in the present tense. End. Of. Report.

The next time a caller assures me that his job will be easy, I'm just going to give him the parts and say, have at it. I might even shove them into his ears through the phone. 

Just Say No?

There are people who seem to sense it, aren't there? They know when they've pushed you exactly far enough, and back off.

A customer picked up a repair yesterday. He had given me a terrible amount of grief over it, changing the order, asking for this, demanding that, begging for alterations which were a damned chore (to say the least) and so on. I told me brother Phil, "That guy better appreciate this job, because the next time he calls I'm telling him I don't want his business."

Of course when he picks it up, he can't help but gush over it. "Man, Cosgriff, it looks brand new! It sounds great! You really did a bang up job on it. I can't wait to try it out. Man, I appreciate this. You guys are like brothers to me!" Then he actually hugs me, and insists I take a tip.

Maybe I'm fooling myself, but he seemed sincere. I'm going to have a hard time telling him no on his next repair. If I even can.

Can you hear the words coming out of my mouth?

Being in sales, one of my jobs is to help the customer. In fact, that's probably my primary job. And I want to help the customer. I especially want to help him when I can make money from that aid.

A man called me yesterday asking for a part I did not have. It was a very specific part too, one that I am truly certain I am the only person in the Detroit area from whom it can be gotten. I just plain didn't have it.

"Well, where else can I get it from, Cosgriff?" he asked.

"Nowhere, sorry. I can order it, take me about two weeks," I responded.

There was a heavy sigh on the other of the phone. "Okay, then, where was that other place you sent me before?"

Now it was my turn to let out a heavy sigh. "There is no other place in the Detroit area."

"But you told me a place before."

"No, I didn't. There is nowhere else in the area."

"It was between 9 and 10 Mile." I don't know if he thought that hint was really helpful. But it wasn't.

"I have no idea what that might be," I assured him, perhaps a bit huffily I'll admit.

He paused before adding, as if repetition makes something true, "Yeah, it was between 9 and 10."

At that point I wanted to blow up at him. I wanted to yell, "Look, bud, you can crisscross 9 and 10 mile roads their entire lengths and will not find that part. There is NO PLACE anywhere between 9 and 10 that will have it. But go ahead, waste your day looking. I've been as much help as I can be." Instead I said through clenched teeth, "Well, if you find it call me and we'll set up a time to install it."

He'll be calling back later to order the stupid thing. In the meanwhile if he elects to fritter away his time chasing windmills, he deserves whatever that entails.

Kick starters

I'm surely guilty of it too, but I do wonder how often people actually hear what they're saying.

A customer brought a machine into the Shop this morning; it would not turn as soon as you hit the on button, as it should. "What's wrong with it Cosgriff?"

I answered that until I got into the repair I would not know, but it could be as bad a blown motor. "They're can't be nothing wrong with the motor, Cosgriff, because I can kick start it."

"You what?"

"I can kick start it. I can turn the clutch with a flip of my foot and the motor starts running."

He didn't hear what he said.

Of course something is wrong with the motor because you should not have to kick start it. Besides, if nothing's wrong with the motor why are you in my Shop talking to me?

He didn't hear that in his head either I bet.

The long and winding (wrong) road

I suppose this post should go under they don't listen or pay attention. I will try not to be long winded about it.

Yesterday (we're open because we're in the supply chain for water and wastewater businesses) I had a customer call me and ask about sectional cables. I said that 8 ft. cables were $52 and 10 ft. were $60 and that we had both in stock. I told him those numbers explicitly, and I emphasize that because you, dear reader, will need to know it. Then he asked where we were, a quite logical question as he had never been to our Shop before. I told him 4850 Rosa Parks, between Hancock and Warren. "If you get to Warren you've gone too far," I advised him. Rosa Parks is a one way heading north around the old barn, so you come to Hancock before Warren unless you're going the wrong way. He repeated, "So you're between Hancock and Rosa Parks?"

You got all that?

So an hour later as I'm headed to the bank he calls. "I'm at Warren and Rosa Parks but I can't see you," he explains.

"You should from there. Look over your right shoulder for a big gray building." Our Shop is clearly visible from the corner of Warren and Rosa Parks.

"All I see is big plastic house like where they grow plants."

This didn't help me know where he was other than that I knew he was not where he said he was. There is no greenhouse at Warren and Rosa Parks. I'm sorry, there is no big plastic house like where they grow plants at Warren and Rosa Parks. "I'm driving but I'll swing around to Rosa Parks and look for you. What are you driving?"

"A maroon van."

So I swung around to where I would turn onto Rosa Parks well below my Shop. And I see a maroon van sitting at Forest and Rosa Parks, south of Hancock, right next to a greenhouse. I had forgotten one was there, but the key thing is he was not at Warren and Rosa Parks as he claimed. "You're at Forest and Rosa Parks," I said, trying not to sound like I was talking down to him. I had kept our conversation open as the phone lay on the seat next to me.

"Yeah, Forest and Rosa Parks, right." Whaddaya mean right? You quite definitely told me you were at Warren and Rosa Parks.

"I'm in a black van. I'll come around you and lead you in." This I did.

So now that he's finally at my Shop I ask, "So which do you prefer: 8 or 10 foot cables?"

"Uh, I need the 15 foot cables," he stammered.

15 foot cables are made by a competitor. "I don't have those. Our cables are not compatible; I'm sorry," I replied.

"Oh, okay. I'll go somewhere else. Sorry to bother you,"

"No problem," I responded. It didn't bother so much as it left me stupefied. I told him expressly what we had and exactly where we were and neither point registered with him. It wasted his efforts more than mine. But what are you gonna do?

Late in Adrian

Adrian is a nice small town in Lenawee County Michigan, about 90 minutes southwest of Detroit. It's the kind of place I wouldn't mind making a home: small town living close enough to the big city for big city conveniences. I was just there yesterday.

The profusion of cell phones means that cities such as Adrian are very close. Close enough that customers can easily reach you there, as one did me late yesterday afternoon. He wanted to drop off his machine for repair. "I'm sorry, but I'm in Adrian and I'll be late today. Bring it to my shop tomorrow," I explained.

"Oh. Well, could I bring it now and you check it tomorrow?"

Oh-kay. What I did not ask (although I wanted to) was, what part of  'I'm in Adrian and I'll be late bring it tomorrow" was not clear?

I'm asking for a friend.

I pay my bills

On Thursday, a customer brought back a machine which he felt I should repair under warranty. Now, I won't bore you with the details, and I am man enough to admit a mistake and do warranty work when it's legitimate. But somebody had clearly messed with the machine. My work wasn't the issue. I told him as much.

He insisted that no one had touched it, and added, "Marty, I pay my bills."

What does paying your bills have to do with it? I thought. I pointed that out to him. "Well, I mean I wouldn't do anything wrong to you man."

Whatever. Somebody messed with that machine, simple as that. Despite that you pay your bills man.

Cloyce-blocking technology

Part of me feels bad for doing it. But it's kind of in self defense really.

I have a certain customer, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who is honestly a nice guy. He never argues price; indeed he always thanks us for our good service and gives us a decent amount of business. Yet he has one flaw: he's a worrywart. When he leaves a piece of equipment with me he calls constantly, in the range of every couple of hours, checking on its status until the job is done. If he drops off something Monday morning and I tell him it'll be ready Wednesday, he begins calling Monday afternoon.

I've asked him to not do that. He's always been very apologetic when I have, assuring me that he trusts me and likes my work and knows I'll call the minute I have him good to go. And then he promptly calls two hours later.

This is where I feel a bit bad. Thanks to the miracle of modern technology, whenever he leaves something for repair I pull out my cell phone, go to my contacts list, scroll down to Cloyce's number, and block it. When his job is ready I reverse course, unblock it, and call him.

I suppose I should not do that. But a fella gets tired of running to his phone or struggling to get it out of his pocket only to see Cloyce's name there when it rings. It interrupts the flow of work and simply irks me.

No doubt there are worse problems in the world. But still...

It cannot be, until it is

I love it when people come to me for my expertise (I assure you that there are indeed subjects however few and far between which I am expert in) yet will not accept my report. You had a problem, you brought it to me, I resolved it, yet you will not accept my explanation? It is even especially exasperating when it's something which is indeed particularly straightforward. It gets my alliteration going.

A gentleman recently brought in a machine which was not running. To save me time (he thought) he had already checked that electricity was getting to the motor. Okay, fine, thanks. He left, and I diagnosed that the power cord was bad. I installed a new cord and hey presto, his machine was fully and completely operational. I called and told him it was ready. "What was wrong?" he asked.

"The power cord was bad."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Eventually he said, "That cannot be, man. There was power to the motor."

That set me off. Channeling the spirit of me easily agitated Grandpa Joe I wanted to yell, "Yes, that can be, man! It wasn't running, the cord was bad, I replaced it, the machine runs. It. Can. Be." Instead I calmly, rationally explained, "Electricity is a circuit. There's more at work than power getting to the motor. It has to go through the motor and return to its source or an electric motor won't work." I am no genius on this issue. This is Electric Power 101, folks.

"But power was getting to the motor," he replied incredulously.

Did you not hear the words that were coming from my mouth? Still, I replied simply, "The cord was bad, my friend. I replaced it, and your snake works."

He came by, watched it run, toyed with the unit for a few minutes and paid me, all the while looking at me as though I were an alchemist or a charlatan. Dude, I believe you that power was getting to the motor. But it's gotta get back out for the motor to work. It's that simple.

I may be, in fact I am, incompetent on many levels. Spectacularly incompetent on several, I admit. But don't question me on my rightness when I actually am right please.

What I wanted to say

Sometimes I really want to be a smart aleck. That's okay too, among family and friends in playful situations. But generally when working, you have to choke down that urge.
I called a customer yesterday morning to tell him that his machine had me stumped (yes, some things are beyond even old Marty). I told him I tried everything I knew to try but to no avail. I suggested he pick it up and take it to an electrician, as the motor simply would not run for me. I even suggested a place for him to take it to, someone I've known for years who is honest and does good work in a timely manner.
The customer was at the Shop within the hour. As he wheeled his unit towards the door he asked, "So what do you think I should I do?".
This is where not being a smart aleck is important. I said, as though I had said nothing exactly like it sixty minutes ago, to take it to the electric motor shop.
Yet that is not what I wanted to say.
I wanted to say, perhaps, I have no idea what to do, simply to see if he'd remind me I had recommended someone. Because he would then remember, you know, even though he just seemed himself ignorant of what I had said on the phone.
Or, it occurred to me, I might have led him through an entirely new process. I might have explained the situation in snide detail.
I might have started with: Okay, here's the deal. Try to keep up.
I sell and repair drain snakes. It's what I do to make a living.
Are you with me so far? Good.
I wanted to call and tell you that I could fix your machine for this very reasonable price in this perfect time frame, because I sell and repair snakes. I wanted to be able to repair your snake, not send you away.
Still with me?
Now, all that being said, don't you think that if I had had any solid idea what to do I would have done it? Why might I have you pick it up to take somewhere else otherwise?
Got that?
Good. Because I was afraid I might have to repeat it.

Why the surprise?

One of the fascinating things about repairing drain cables and equipment are the the laments which I hear along the way. At times I wonder if people ever actually think about what they say.

Broken cables always just break. The operator never ever put too much pressure on it. Never ever. They were simply feeding it into the drain line and it broke. One fella even claimed, I am not making this up, that he just looked at his machine and the cable snapped. Of course, he was kinda ugly...but the point is that most cable breakages supposedly occur though absolutely no fault of the operator. Right.

A favorite of mine is the question, why did my machine break? It is often asked with incredulity. My normal answer is, I think, obvious. Everything is subject to break. Nothing made by human hands lasts forever. Your equipment, your cars, your refrigerator; they all break, and sometimes we just don't know why. Why are you be shocked by that?

Then there's the equally incredulous, it was working and then it just stopped! Again, why are you surprised? Everything works until it doesn't.

Sometimes I just sigh about it. Other times I blog about it. Today is your lucky day.

Hearing what they want

And other things about customers...
They always round down. Always.
"How much is that part, Cosgriff?"
"Thirty-three dollars."
"Okay, thirty dollars." No, thirty three. And then remember there's sales tax, doofus.
Then there are the ones who believe inflation is almost a daily event with my prices. They ask things like, "How much is that part, Cosgriff?"
"Thirty-three dollars."
"Wow. They done gone up since last week." No, they haven't. That part has been $33 bucks since 2012. If you paid more than that last week, you bought it from someone but me.
Then there are ones who haven't bought a cable in a couple of decades. "How much is that cable, Cosgriff?"
"$49.30."
"What? Last time I paid $33 dollars!" I don't doubt you did: in 1989.
Ah, customers.

More about customers

And other things about customers...

They always round down. Always.

"How much is that part, Cosgriff?"

"Thirty-three dollars."

"Okay, thirty dollars." No, thirty three. And then remember there's sales tax, doofus.

Then there are the ones who believe inflation is almost a daily event with my prices. They ask things like, "How much is that part, Cosgriff?"

"Thirty-three dollars."

"Wow. They done gone up since last week." No, they haven't. That part has been $33 bucks since 2012. If you paid more than that last week, you bought it from someone but me.

Then there are ones who haven't bought a cable in a couple of decades. "How much is that cable, Cosgriff?"

"$49.30."

"What? Last time I paid $33 dollars!" I don't doubt you did: in 1989.

Ah, customers.