RETAIL HELL: LOSING A CUSTOMER

When I bought a shipping business where I had worked part-time for a few years, one of the customers I inherited was a man who owned a classic car parts business. His niche was the Ford Galaxie 500 from the mid-60's. Often the parts were big and heavy so he relied on our packaging expertise to get them safely to his customers. Burly and surly, always dressed in a plaid shirt, he lived in his warehouse up on US 27. He had a prickly demeanor to say the least: he would only conduct business with the owner so as an employee, I would alert the boss when I saw him coming in from the parking lot. If the owner happened to be out on a job, this guy would be pissed and would threaten to take his business elsewhere unless the owner came back immediately. I would apologize and suggest that in the future that he would give us a call ahead of time to alert us or allow me to wait on him. He would leave in a huff and follow up with an angry phone call to the owner but eventually come back. He had paying customers to attend to.

After I became owner, he begrudgingly continued to come in,  keeping to his usual demand of never dealing with the hired help. This was fine as long as he did not abuse my people. I had years of experience dealing with this sort of thing which goes with the territory. In retail, you'll deal with all kinds of folk and sometimes they can be difficult. 

Meanwhile, I was in a reconciliation with my first wife Michele and we were back to living together. She began to have a cough that got worse and worse as the holidays progressed. Initial tests and treatments by the doctors failed and finally she had a coughing fit that broke a rib. She was admitted to the hospital for a lung biopsy. A couple of days later, Michele called in tears saying "it's really bad" and I told her I would arrive shortly being only a couple of miles away from Sparrow Hospital. My employee was working so I had coverage for the shop. I was putting my coat on and I heard him holler that the Galaxie guy was coming in. I met him in the parking lot, apologized that I had to leave because of a family emergency and hurried to my car. He was not pleased. 

In the end, Michele had terminal lung cancer and died about a month later. My employee had told me Galaxie guy had thrown a fit and stomped off. We never saw him again.

Some time later, I was having drinks with an old Kroger colleague and I related the tale, shaking my head. "Forget it Jeff" she said, "It's retail."