This weekend I had an experience I haven't had in a long time. I fell in love with a corporation.
I won't go into it, because if there's anything more boring that a long yarn about a bad customer experience, it's a long yarn about a good one.
Suffice it to say, Subaru saved me a bundle on a repair and won a customer for life.
To which melodramtic declaration 10-year-old Scout responded, "Oh boy."
She's got a point. Subaru did me a good turn; but why does that earn them a customer for life?
Not because they flattered me, or embarrassed me with pampering.
They simply treated me the way I think I should be treated, on account of my mother told me I was a genius and my dad told me I was a fine young man and besides, I stand at the center of my universe.
And why did Subaru's simple R-E-S-P-E-C-T have such a stunning effect on me? Because, like you, I am the abused spouse of a hundred corporations. No one treats me right. My call is important to them, but the estimated wait time is 20 minutes. They understand, but policy is policy. They're sorry I am frustrated, but there's nothing they can do.
I've lived a whole disappointing adulthood of that. And then one company hands me a huge bill for a major repair and sees my crestfallen look and says: Maybe there's a way we can help you. Call this number and tell them I sent you. Tell you what we're gonna do.
And when I get the discounted bill, I pump the service manager's hand in my astonishment. My only complaint is that Subaru limits itself to the car business. Why can't Subaru also be a cable TV company, a cell phone provider and the Illinois Department of Motor Vehicles?
Maybe there's an opportunity for some other companies to stop beating their customers, and earn some lifetime loyalty of their own.
Ah, that's their business.
All I know is, I'm a Subaru man. A Subaru man, that's me.