Customer Service

I've never worked retail, but I believe I've heard that the golden rule of retail is "The Customer is Always Right". I consider myself a reasonable person, and generally try not to make waves. I rarely find myself in a setting in which I feel the need to speak up and advocate for my consumer rights. But a strange situation is brewing, friends, and I am sharing it here.

Once upon a time, Fibby was browsing on etsy.com and discovered some lovely socks* that were reasonably priced.

"Ooh!" Fibby thought to herself, "I can purchase these as gifts for friends this year for Christmas!"

Fibby spent time browsing all options, and checked out with multiple purchases from this shop.

The order was packed and shipped promptly, and a few days later Fibby opened a box full of socks that were just as beautiful as they had been in the photos. She left 100% positive feedback for the products online and was generally very pleased with her order. However, some of the socks were larger than Fibby had expected.

"Hmmm, this could be a problem," thought Fibby, "I'm not sure I know people who can wear these socks, and I'm not sure I can wear them either!"

Fibby emailed the etsy shop owner. She explained that the socks were beautiful, but larger than expected and inquired if an exchange would be possible. Fibby didn't expect the shop owner to agree to an exchange, but felt it was worth asking, just in case.

Fibby heard nothing back from the shop owner, which she took as confirmation that the store did not do exchanges.

Weeks later, Fibby realized that there were a few more people in her life who might appreciate some beautiful socks for Christmas and headed to the etsy shop once more. She found a couple more pairs of socks that would be perfect for her friends, and ordered them.

The order form had a section for comments, and Fibby decided to provide feedback to the shop owner:

I love your socks and will continue to buy. Just a note of feedback - I sent you a message a few weeks ago about exchanging some socks. As it turns out, I have found homes for them and I no longer need to. But it would have been nice to hear back from you. I would have been fine if you had told me you don't do exchanges, but not hearing anything was kind of disappointing. Just a little constructive feedback from a repeat customer!


This is where the story gets strange...

One day after ordering the socks, Fibby received an email from etsy.com informing her that her second sock order had been cancelled, along with the following information:

Cancellation reason provided by the shop owner: Seller refuses service and buyer has paid

Message from the seller: Future purchases are not available to buyer who was not happy with items or shop, but continues to purchase and critique simultaneously.


Friends, I have to admit, this made me concerned about the sanity of the shop owner. I had repeatedly told the shop owner that I loved the socks, had provided 100% positive feedback online, and then provided a piece of customer service feedback directly to the shop owner that I still maintain was written in a constructive way.

A piece of me was tempted to change all my positive feedback for my previous sock order to negative feedback and never do business with Crazy Irrational Shop Owner (CISO) anymore.

But there was another piece of me that felt the need to appeal to CISO with a rational argument and attempt to get the second sock order approved. (The socks were quite lovely, afterall)

I wrote to CISO stating that I believed there had been a misunderstanding. After providing a little more background, I laid out the following points:

To clarify:

1. I was absolutely happy with my original items, but some were a little bit larger than I had anticipated, so I contacted the store to inquire about an exchange. Not a return - an exchange. I didn't want you to lose money, and would have happily paid extra shipping costs or a re-stocking fee if necessary.

2. I heard nothing back after my email, which implied that an exchange was not an option. This was fine, as I wasn't sure I'd be able to exchange the items, but had felt I should at least inquire about whether or not it was an option.

3. I purchased more socks last night because I was so happy with your product, and I wanted to give a few more as gifts this season.

4. I wrote a comment along with my order not to complain, but to provide constructive feedback that it was disappointing not to have heard back from you after my initial inquiry. Had I truly been a disgruntled customer, I would have written negative feedback for the products and/or not shopped with you again.

I then requested that CISO reconsider the (ridiculous and irrational**) ban on having me as a repeat customer.

Where will this go? I don't have high hopes. My guess is that I will once again not get a response, or get a response that tells me the CISO is still not willing to do business with me. There's not much I can do after that, and frankly, if CISO continues to be so unreasonable, I won't have any desire to provide additional income to such an insane person (who knows where that money will go!).

At any rate, it seemed like a good story for sharing on my oft-neglected blog, so here it is.


*gifts have been changed to maintain some element of surprise
** words not included in the email

Prayer for Fibby

It's been a tough month at work - a tough few months, really. Lots of complicated social situations. Lots of sad stories. Lots of heavy loads to help people carry...

There's an ongoing situation right now that eats away at me. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. It makes me frustrated. I'm mostly able to leave it behind when the work day is over, but sometimes it takes the whole walk home to fully shake it. And of course, it's always waiting for me when I return to work in the morning.

I knew that I'd have a day that centered mostly around this situation when I headed to work yesterday morning. I had checked email throughout the weekend and was aware that there had been some issues that would need to be addressed when I returned. I got to work, took a deep breath and plunged right in.

The "water" was deep, and the situation upsetting. I met with one person, I met with another, I organized a meeting of the care team, and then I documented in multiple places the plan to move forward. I stayed an hour late to finish all of this and was exhausted by the time I began my walk home.

It was a full-body exhaustion: physical, mental, and emotional. As I turned down my street, I was mentally preparing to leave the day behind when I walked through my front door. I spent the last few blocks taking some deep breaths in an attempt to let go of the day, but it was still hanging on.

Two blocks from home, I looked up and saw a few adults in their early 20s walking towards me.

"Excuse me," one girl said, "Do you have a second?"

"I might," I responded cautiously.

"It's not for anything weird... I mean... Well, we're with the ______ Church and I'm wondering if there's anyone you'd like us to pray for - maybe for you or for someone you know who is having a hard time?" She and her friend both smiled and looked at me kindly. "My name is Meredith," she said.

I'm of the belief that given the line of work I'm in and the challenges I so often witness there, I'm in no position to turn down prayer. Whether it be to a Christian, Jewish, or Muslim God, whether the god be male or female or gender neutral, if someone offers to pray for me or the families I work with, I won't say no.

So I thought for a moment, wanting so much to request a prayer for this family that is causing me so much heartache but not wanting to violate any HIPAA regulations. "Could you pray for the families at my hospital?" I asked. I told her where I worked and the population I serve, and tears came to her eyes.

She asked if she could put her hand on my arm, and when I said yes she began to pray.

I don't remember all the words of her prayer, but I do remember how kind and earnest she was. It wasn't a cookie-cutter prayer. She said "um" and "uh" as she strung together her thoughts into words. But her simple, honest prayer carried a surprising depth and weight. She praised her God for wisdom and love, and acknowledged that God's heart can break just as ours can. She asked for strength and peace for the families in the hospital. And she asked for strength and peace for me.

She finished her prayer and I thanked her. We chatted for a bit and then parted ways.

I walked home feeling lighter, less anxious, and relieved. Relieved in the realization that I am not carrying these burdens alone. Relieved at the idea that there might be some larger power that will help me through these difficult days - if not by solving the complex social problems I witness at work, at least by sending people like Meredith to pray for me when I need it most.

The Gift of Life

As I type this, there is a 5-year-old girl I know who is receiving the ultimate gift - the gift of a heart and of a new life. And as her family rejoiced at the news that a donor had  been found, another family grieved for the loss of their loved one. 

Please keep both families in your thoughts today. 

For more information on organ donation, please visit http://www.donatelife.net/.

Little Blond Munchkin Love of My Life

Today is my last regular babysitting day with my little man, Clyde. Those of you who know me know that Thursdays have been the highlight of my week for the past year because of him. In honor of our final day together, I made him a book (he loves books). It won't look nearly so nice or well-organized on blogger, but I'm sharing it here anyway.

Thursdays with Clyde and Phoebe

Every Thursday for a year,

Clyde's friend Phoebe would appear,

Ready for a day of fun,

In the rain or in the sun.

In the park were many things -

Clyde's favorites were the swings.

"Little push, little push, big push!" he'd cry,

And after the pushes he'd go "So high!"

Slides to slide down and tires to climb,

There was never enough time,

To do all the things Clyde loved so much,

Like sniffing roses, puddle jumping and such.

Clyde was fond of things with wheels -

Fire trucks had the most appeal

So they'd walk (they'd never drive),

To see Tower 1 and Engine 5.

Lights went on and sirens wailed,

While trusty Sparky's watch prevailed.

Those trucks were big - they were not tiny,

And their wheels were always shiny.

Then Phoebe would say, "Hold my hand!"

And Clyde would reach up just as planned,

And they'd head home to eat their lunch,

Getting messy as they'd munch.

After nap it was time to venture,

Back outside for more adventure,

Looking at flowers all around town,

And stepping "Up!" and stepping "Down!"

On their walks they loved to play

With their shadows on sunny days.

When shade came, shadows would hide,

And Clyde would say, "Where's Phoebe and Clyde?"

Often they would walk some more,

To the library or bookstore.

They would sit and read together,

In sunny or in rainy weather.

At the library, Clyde liked best

The "Oops! Book" and "Froggy Gets Dressed".

But at the bookstore he'd request

"Yummy Yucky" and "No no Yes yes".

Then at the end of each Thursday,

After lots of fun and play,

Phoebe had to say "goodbye"

And head back to her home nearby.

So Clyde would from the window stand,

As Phoebe smiled and waved her hand,

And Clyde waved back each afternoon,

Knowing they'd play again very soon.

A Summer Story

When I was eleven, I went to summer camp for the second summer. There was a girl there named Amy who was a few years older and had a kind of junior counselor role at camp. She had a beautiful smile and the kind of personality that lit up a room. She was incredibly talented musically and would often sing or play piano with a small group of younger girls all gathered around, singing with her.

On one such day we all gathered around her at the piano to sing. We happily belted out song after song until it was time to leave. As we all headed to lunch, Amy pulled  me aside. I was nervous about being singled out and was concerned I had done something wrong.  

"I just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful voice," she said to me, "so keep singing." I remember just staring up at her, my idol, the young woman I wanted so much to be like someday, and being completely at a loss for words. I had always liked to sing - it had always been a part of my life - but this person was telling me that I was good at it and was encouraging me to make sure to nurture that talent. 

A feeling washed over me - a feeling I had never felt before. I was so honored and proud to hear those words of encouragement from her, and yet also somewhat overwhelmed. At a time when I was starting to feel the awkward insecurities of my pre-teen years, those words meant so much to me, and I found myself getting choked up from the emotion of it all.

I walked back towards my friends with tears streaming down my cheeks. They saw my tears and asked with concern why I was crying, and I shrugged because I didn't know. They asked if I was sad, and I found myself laughing through my tears and telling them that I was pretty sure I was crying because I was happy. 

I never saw Amy again after that summer. And I never became a professional singer. But I did carry with me the memory of how significant it was to be reminded of talents and strengths that I didn't even know existed.

This morning I received an email appreciating me for my honesty and caring and willingness to speak and act openly when many others do not. These are traits that are so a part of me that, like singing, I forget sometimes that they are strengths. The email spoke of the beauty that comes from making oneself vulnerable and the rewards that can come from being open to possibility, and as I read it I found myself full of that same mysterious feeling I felt 19 summers ago, with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart. Full of gratitude for all that is good in this world, and for the people who help me remember to appreciate it all, I share this with you now:

The Best Gift

The best gift this holiday was not the gift of time shared with friends. It was not the phone conversations with relatives who live far away. It was not the sleep I caught up on or the lack of schoolwork I had to do. It was not even a gift that was given to me.

In fact, the best gift of this holiday season was the framed sheet music my dad gave to my mom:


Brilliant.