I recently waded through the swamp of a national, non-local conglomerate trying to solve a problem I was having with one of its products.

Social media may rule the world and bring the masses together, but it certainly pries apart individual interactions. 

We now all bowl pretty much alone. 

I eventually accomplished my mission after a long and difficult effort that introduced me to what big businesses consider to be “customer service.” My impression was that they do whatever is necessary to wiggle out of anything even remotely related to helpfulness.     

My first hurdle was to just find the firm by telephone or e-mail. When I finally did make a connection, a robot or a very bored person responded.   

There was no cheery “good morning, how can I help you?”

A lukewarm voice routed me through a litany of directions to press one or two or another number for a particular service.  

I punched a number, and a robot told me all representatives were busy with other callers. I should hold until one was available. 

This was followed by scratchy elevator music.

I was finally honored to talk to a representative, and that’s when it became a simple matter of communication. My representative was obviously living very far away, probably on a different continent.

All through my explanation I had the distinct feeling I was interrupting someone’s nap or a pinochle game. 

It was a frustrating and unpleasant experience.

And that’s why I’m a big fan of shopping locally. 

A few days after my experience with the out-of-town big business, I stopped at the bank drive-up window to cash an out-of-town check. I asked the young lady if she needed to see my driver’s license. 

“No,” she responded with a smile, “You’ve been here before and I recognize you.”

How nice.

A couple of days later I asked the folks at Brookings Engraving if I could borrow a sample of one of their signs to show to a group with whom I was to meet.

No problem. They trusted me and were happy to help.

How nice.

Our clothes dryer’s directional dial broke. 

I took it to Ohm’s Appliance Center in Brookings assuming they would have to order a new one. 

A nice man said he might have something lying around somewhere and left for the back room. Two minutes later he returned and handed me a new dial. 

“How much do I owe you?” I asked. 

“Nothing,” he responded. “We’re glad to help.”

How nice.  

Shop locally. 

You not only keep your money working over and over again in your community, but you invest in the best darn customer service in the world.

If you’d like to comment, email the author at cfcecil@swiftel.net.