The Personal Touch

I feel important and valued when I walk into my local RaceTrac for and 89-cent fountain beverage and today's USA Today. Why? Because every time the door swings open in a RaceTrac, an employee sings, "Good morning!" or "Welcome to RaceTrac!"

Their greetings are always so sincere-sounding and robust, and when I look up to greet this warm voice, I'm often confused. Where did the sound come from? Was it that girl stocking shelves with her back to me? Was it the woman completing a sale at the register? Was it the woman wiping down the splash bar by the drink dispenser? I don't know. Sometimes, I return volley and share a robust, "Thank you!" or "Good morning!" but most of the time, my words stumble out and are stopped at "Than--k" or "Goo--d" because I can see no place to direct my reply.

It is then that I feel cheap and kinda unwelcome. I see other customers walk through the doors and they just ignore the programmed greetings. I want to be like these callous neighbors, but I can't, because I yearn for those things that make us a community: Eye-contact, a "hello," holding the door open for a trailing member of the human race, and yielding to pedestrians.

Thank you RaceTrac, for starting the conversation, but please let your eyes linger on your customer a little more, so that we can wish you a "good morning," too.

Comments

[Micah J.L.]

I was called "darling" on at least three separate occasions by gas station attendants the last time I was in Georgia. Quite a difference from Minnesota where you usually get nothing more than a blank stare.

[Darnell Lamb]

My local donut shop lady calls me Honey Buttons. I guess it is because the professor of truth is so sweet.