Outstanding Customer Service

At the risk of sounding redundant, this time the dog ate my glasses (collective groan). Suffering from a monster headache, I'd fallen asleep on the couch; the puppy jumped her barrier gate (some barrier!) and hopped up to cuddle with me. "How sweet," I thought, and fell back to sleep. Waking an hour later, I couldn't find my glasses because I couldn't see to look for them because I needed my glasses to see. An increasingly frantic and ominous search led to the intricately patterned dining room rug, where I found my poor mangled spectacles in a heap on the floor, moaning in pain and delirium.

In sailing past forty I've begun to understand what my ophthalmologist meant when he said I'd know it was time for bifocals when reading was no longer enjoyable. In the past couple of years as soon as I put in contact lenses I could see clearly at arm's length but not any closer, so I relied on a collection of reading glasses stashed strategically around the house where I could find them but the housekeeper (former, actually, and here's one of the many reasons why) wouldn't find them and borrow them.

Things kept getting worse until I couldn't even see my food clearly, and I began to imagine unknowingly lifting a forkful of bugs to my mouth.

So I visited an upscale optician, www.eyewearhaus.com, and chose a smart-looking pair of dark red metal frames reminiscent of my first cat's eye glasses but a lot less scary and a lot more cool. Once I'd adjusted to them I relied on the contacts less, and two months ago I bought another, funkier pair that I liked even better, and gave up on the contacts entirely.

And boy, did I look cool! Even strangers commented on my nifty glasses, and for the first time since I was ten I felt like I didn't look half bad and fully stupid wearing glasses.

And then the dog cuddled with me.

And ate my glasses.

And here's the point of this story:

In extreme embarrassment I returned to the store where I'd picked up my glasses only weeks earlier, fully expecting to pay close to the purchase price to repair or replace them. Let me just add, by the way, that when I was ten my first pair of glasses cost fifty dollars. I don't think I got even the special coatings on the new glasses for as little as fifty dollars. We're talking thin plastic to accommodate a thick prescription AND graduated bifocals. But I loved those glasses and knew I couldn't hang the damage on anyone but myself, so I bit the bullet and begged the owner to do as much as he could for as little charge as possible.

He fixed the frames for free.

He persuaded the lens manufacturers to replace the lenses for free.

And I saw the monumental power of outstanding customer service.

This man knew that if I really wanted my glasses repaired I'd have to be prepared to pay at least something, if not the full price. Even though I'd asked him to do what he could, there was no way I could reasonably have expected him to do everything for free. But he obviously understands that, unless he hits me in the face with a pie the next time I enter his store, he's cultivated a customer for life who will tell even perfect strangers that his store is the only place to go for eyewear.

Thanks Mike!

Meanwhile, I installed a taller gate.

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