Good Business

I’m impressed with the way people in our new town do business. One of the first days, Steve and I had to pick up some things at the local hardware store. An employee asked if he could help. After he escorted us to find the first item on our rather lengthy list, Steve told him we didn’t mean to take up any more of his time.

"Well, you see, in these parts, you’re what we call ‘customers’ and my job is to help customers. Besides, I kinda like to," he said.

Last week, we happened along to an out-of-the-way furniture barn, promising the lowest prices in the county. We’ve been comparing prices to fill up some empty rooms for weeks now, and their advertising was true. The owner showed us the furniture we needed, moving rather leisurely through the barn. We got to know her whole family and even her cat as we made our choice. To finalize the purchase, we had to drive about five miles up the road to another barn to use our credit card. A guy I like to call Gomer rang up the sale on his old-style credit card machine but the phone call didn’t go through. His cousin, Goober, stepped outside and yelled, "Blanche, get off the dadburned phone!" Gomer tried again and Goober had to intervene with Blanche once more. After about four tries, the phone call went through and our credit card was processed.

Within the hour, Goober and Gomer pulled up in our driveway with our furniture loaded in their pick-up. We were shocked. We’re used to the delivery being scheduled 45 days in advance, with instructions to stay at home between 8:00-5:00 to wait and the goods never arriving before 4:55. They screwed the table on its pedestal and then chatted with us for a spell. 

Dadburned Blanche forgot to load one of the chairs in the truck, so Goober went back to get it while Gomer chewed the fat some more. In no time, the missing chair was in place. We expected friendly service but not the fast part. Especially not coming from the likes of Goober and Gomer. And Blanche.

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