Customer Service: A Tale from the Road Call

Francis sold shoes. My mom bought all of the kid’s shoes there for years. Francis had a fleet of Brannock devices. He had an old-time cash register with a wooden handle and a size 20 Converse All-Star basketball shoe resting on it.

Francis owned the store. He worked in the store. He let you walk around and around the seating area as many times as you wanted so you could really, really get the feel for the new shoes he had just tied lovingly to your little feet.

The carpet was worn smooth in a track where the kids had walked around and around. He was good at what he did, and he sold THOUSANDS of shoes to local kid’s moms for many years.

Francis was dedicated to his trade.

Francis had a nice Oldsmobile. His wife had one, too. Francis called Old George one morning, a cold, wintry Saturday, after the wife’s car started but quit with a loud thud.

I answered the phone. “Dad, it’s for you,” I said. Old George took the call and said, “Uh-huh. OK. I’ll be right there.” Next thing he said was “Get in the truck”. So, I did. Turns out this road call was de-railing the haircut I was supposed to get that day, so I was glad about that.

When people called George, he responded.