The Boston Red Sox made a lifelong fan very happy this morning. Not by signing another free agent for gobs of money or by trading for an ace starting pitcher, but by offering a gesture of human kindness.
While he was hospitalized again a couple of weeks ago, I had a cleaning crew come and disinfect my father's house. Never a man overly concerned with personal hygiene, his illness and infirmaries had overwhelmed the house. It was unsanitary by any measure, and for a man in my father's condition, it was becoming dangerous. So the cleaning crew came in and did a remarkable job, using bleach and carpet shampoo and elbow grease to restore the house to a sanitary and fresh-smelling state.
However, in the course of this Superfund-like cleanup, a couple of decorative towels that my father prized were inadvertently thrown away. One was a big Red Sox towel that he'd received as a promotional item some years ago--my dad was a 40-year season ticket holder (Section 16, Row JJ, Seat 5) and remains a passionate fan. This towel was a tangible connection to the days before he got sick and his illness robbed him of the freedom to go to games every night of the week, sneaking in Chinese food from Chef Chang's House and kibbitzing with the ushers, all of whom he knew from his years as a regular.
Last Saturday, after I brought him home from this latest hospitalization, he was crestfallen at the loss of his towel. It was another piece of his former life that was taken away, another piece of a puzzle he cannot make sense of anymore.
After two more days of listening to his sadness, I emailed the Red Sox with a brief description of the situation and a request that if a similar towel or blanket was available, I'd be happy to pay for it. I just wanted to replace what he lost. Twenty-four hours after sending this email, a representative from the Sox' customer service team named Phil Derick replied with a very nice note and a promise to take a look and send something along.
This morning, I handed my dad a FedEx box containing a lovely Red Sox/Fenway Park tapestry and a handwritten note from the Red Sox wishing him well. He was moved to tears by the gesture. Quite frankly, so was I--he doesn't have many moments of sheer happiness these days; tears outweigh smiles by a wide margin. The tapestry is out on display so he can look at it whenever he wants, and enjoy the bittersweet memories of what were his halcyon days.
"Customer Service" has become a catchall term for any interaction between brand and consumer. Yet truly great customer service is delivered by resolving problems for customers one by one and taking advantage of opportunities to deliver genuine delight to individual customers, solely for the sake of doing so. Today, the Boston Red Sox provided my little family with a customer service experience that will never be forgotten, and for this I am grateful beyond words.
Originally published 12/22/2014 on LinkedIn. David's father passed away 10/7/2015.