Sublime

Today's my day off, as many of you know. Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I normally would start with a walk or a bike ride, but it was raining in an epic manner, so I went on to the next task. An hour of Auto Alert training, webinar based, and some time studying our CRM software handbook. Then I made my daughter's lunch, and took her to school. Anyone who thinks I spend my off days on the couch having Vosges chocolate (Fire bar) fed to me by scantily clad eunuchs playing Greensleeves on 200-hundred-year old guitars may be disappointed.

Our days off are so busy, how do people actually enjoy their down time? Or do we have any? Is the price we pay for living in paradise that we are on the (hamster) wheel all the time?

Cancer taught me to not expect entire good days, and also brings perspective to busy "weekends". I no longer hope to have huge, blissful, stress-free chunks of time off. Instead,  I look for the sublime moment, stolen from all the hectic ones.

A cup of perfect coffee is just such a thing. And like every self-respecting sublime moment, this one came with a life lesson.

My favorite coffee, with none others even close, is Blue Bottle. They don't burn the beans, and they are fair trade and organic everything, and they make it for me like I'm the Sultan's wife.

I have to confess I approached my coffee-getting experience with a goal-oriented demeanor today. There are two lines at the Ferry Building Blue Bottle, and one always seems shorter than the other, so we got into the shorter of the two. There was only one fellow ahead of us; this shouldn't take too long, we thought. What seemed like an ice age passed, and he was still getting one coffee after another; seems he must have had a crowd to caffeine up back at the ranch. I was grumbling impatiently. Finally five beautifully prepared coffees rested on the counter in front of the man, who carefully took them away.

I greeted the barista, and ordered our drinks. He looked me squarely in the eye, and softly said, "This is going to take a while".  I got it, and calmed myself down. Anyone who treats their job with such reverence deserves my patience. We did wait an inordinately long time while he lovingly, artistically prepared our coffees. Yet, I didn't find myself impatient, because, A. I had seen the care with which he had prepared the previous customer's order and, B. He had told me ahead of time that my order would take a little longer than I might expect.

The coffee when we got it, was like a love poem to the Goddess of the Volcano. Hot and thick and melty, it was everything good and extraordinary in a brown ceramic cup. We agreed that his conscientious preparation and presentation had made the coffee more than coffee; it became the catalyst to a moment worth remarking upon and savoring. For that instant, life was sweet and unhurried, and it caused us to feel grateful for the simple gift of a cup of coffee, lovingly prepared.

I was reminded of a few inviolable customer-relations tenets today.

1. Treat each customer like they are the Sultan, or the Sultan's wife. Nothing less than the royal treatment for everyone who graces us with their presence.

2. Provide each customer with the absolute most excellent service you are capable of, to the limits of your training and talent, every time. And keep training...

3. Elevate the performance of your job to the level of art form. Your clients should feel awe at your respect for their excellence of their experience.

4. If you're going to do your job above and beyond, let your clients know it may take a little longer than they're expecting. When they know you're going to do something amazing for them, they'll wait.

That's certainly more than I would have remembered about serving my clients well had I stayed home with the eunuchs.