Today I called a hot San Francisco restaurant to make a reservation and reached a human being. This is a James Beard award winning restaurant, I'm talking about. Did I get a table for 4? Oh yeah! Again, WTF? This reminds me of my Dot Bomb days in San Francisco when I could suddenly get a table at any restaurant, could buy great Giants tickets at face value and the salespeople at Macy's actually wanted to help me. What was this quaint practice called? Oh yeah -- Customer Service. As glad as I am to be treated like a paying customer, it's too bad that it took an economic debacle to remind retailers and service providers that they're in the business of pleasing customers. Oh well, may as well enjoy it while it lasts.
CVS called me on Saturday. I didn't answer the call. Was there a problem with my insurance? Did I owe them money? A friendly pharmacist left me a voicemail reminding me that my prescription was ready to be refilled. He went on to say that if I had any questions or needed help in any way that I should not hesitate to call. Then he thanked me for being a CVS customer. WTF?! Usually I have to wade through their computerized phone tree and then hope that when I go to pick up my prescription I don't get the surly girl who can never find it who gives me the stink eye as if she doesn't believe I ever called it in.