Losing a Customer

One aspect of working with the public that can be difficult is losing a customer. Most of the time this is something that is avoidable, whether through careful and attentive customer service or through amazing products that the customer feels they need. If a customer leaves in anger or frustration then it’s almost always the fault of an employee or the business. If they leave because the service or products have changed that can often be avoidable too.

My job, offering curbside service or delivering groceries to people's homes, gives me a unique position in which I get to know people fairly well. I know when it’s getting close for a regular customer to order again. I know whether they may prefer a substitute on an item or whether they’d rather be marked out of it. I know what's for dinner and what's an indulgent snack. I have many customers who only order occasionally or very infrequently. I’ve had others that have only ever ordered once. I strive to offer the best service I can and encourage others that work in this department to do the same, but sometimes we fall short. And sometimes it’s just not what the customer prefers, choosing instead to continue coming into the store rather than order their groceries.

There’s another way that we lose customers. One that is much more difficult to endure. Losing a customer due to negligence on the part of the business or the employees is bad but avoidable, and with the right actions reversible. Losing a customer due to death however is tragic. And has a continuing effect on those of us who got to know them personally through the job.

I’ve lost a few. Regular customers that would order at least once every couple of weeks, some more often. Two were older gentlemen, in their 70’s, both of whom had significant health issues. The third was a woman only about a decade older than I am now. She was a newer customer and was happy with the service. Like clockwork every two weeks she’d submit an order for delivery. Then she stopped. Weeks went by without an order. I’d grown concerned, but understood that people's life situations change. I found out about six weeks after her last order that she had become suddenly ill and passed away by stumbling on her obituary online. New customers sometimes wax and wane in their purchases as their needs and lives change, but this was a shock. She was a sweet woman and I’m incredibly sad for her family and friends. I’m sad I didn’t get the chance to know her a bit better.

As for the two gentlemen: The first, Mr. M we’ll call him, had worsening health issues for the three years I delivered to him. Yet like clockwork, he’d place an order each week, the day would vary, but the contents were consistent. I worried about him, naturally. You don’t visit an individual once a week for years, no matter how brief the visit is, and don’t come to grow fond of them. He was a personal man though, and even though I’m curious and sometimes tempted to pry, I’ve learned not to. One day, after about a week and a half of no orders, his home care nurse was in the store and let me know that he had passed away. I still drive by his house occasionally and I smile remembering his two most common responses to being asked “How are you?” The first was “Terrible, but thanks for asking.” The second, which is a common one for older men in this area was “Same shit, different day.” Despite the negativity he’d always sound so damn cheerful. I know that when I started delivering to him he had a wife in the nursing home and a chihuahua that was as old as he was. By the last delivery both had been gone for quite some time.

The other regular whose passed away we’ll call Mr. R. Mr. R was a rough guy. A veteran, a truck driver, and an all around ornery bastard and tough S.O.B despite being confined to a motorized wheelchair. I really like Mr. R. He spent a good deal of time working with wood: making boxes, wooden pens, plaques. He loved doing the work, it helped give meaning to his life, he gave the pens out to whoever wanted them, and would make the boxes and plaques for those he liked. He had moved to the area to spend time with his son and grandson but found that, other than his family, this region wasn’t to his liking.

Mr. R ordered two to three times a week, which was no small thing as he lived far outside of town and the delivery expenses were pretty steep and added up. He stopped ordering a couple of times: once when he had a heart attack and was hospitalized for several days. The other when he traveled back to his home state for personal reasons. After a delivery this January he stopped. A week went by, no orders. Then another week went by with no orders. Much like Mr. M, I was informed by somebody physically in the store well after the fact that he had passed away. This time his neighbor. He had passed away only a few days after my last delivery. Mr. R was a tough one, because unlike Mr. M, I had gotten to know Mr. R pretty well.

Doing this job, during the pandemic, I see the number of folks placing orders that are elderly or that have health issues having increased. Most people think that it’s typically the elderly using this service the most, but that has never been true. Young mothers find the most use in this service; not having to tackle and wrestle an army of toddlers and preteens in a grocery store has to be a bit of relief. But the number of older folks and chronically ill folks has increased significantly.

I know that we all must go someday but I’m happy the service is here so maybe these folks will be safe a little longer. That they'll get a chance to go to that holiday party and watch their grandchildren grow up a little longer. And that I won’t discover that another customer who's become my friend has passed away from a neighbor, or nurse, or an obituary.