Three Stories of Great Customer Service

Generosity, my wife often says, is one of the most important things in a marriage. Doing the little things -- putting extra ice in a drink, taking the dog out when it's below freezing, giving a massage when you actually need one -- makes a huge difference.

That mantra holds true for relationships outside of marriage, too. And this past week -- our anniversary week -- we've benefitted from three wonderful examples of customer service:

1. On Tuesday, I thought of the perfect anniversary gift for Bridget. (We hadn't planned on doing anything big because we're saving for Baby Briddon.) My idea was simple: I wanted a graphic keepsake that incorporated my wedding vows. I turned to my friend, Alex, who turned to his friend, Danny, who has a fantastic new business. Danny takes classic books and creates amazing pieces of art. Called Litographs, he prints the entire book within the image on a poster or a book. Decorating a nursery? How about The Wizard of Oz?  Need a gift for a book-lover? Try The Great Gatsby. Check out the whole collection. Danny took my idea, made it into the memorable piece of art above, and refused any kind of compensation for the rush order. The gift made Bridget cry and and made me realize just how kind some people really are.

2. We went stroller shopping a couple weeks ago at a place called Magic Beans in Cambridge. We weren't going to buy, but just felt like we needed to start rolling them around a little bit. One of the staff members, Michelle, spent what felt like 30 minutes with us answering every question we could imagine. She was patient, friendly, and incredibly knowledgable. Nice, right? Well, the reason I'm writing about it is because we received a hand-written "thank-you" card and a $20 gift card from Michelle a few days ago just for stopping in the store. Think we'll buy there? Yeah, me too.

3. We celebrated our anniversary in Chatham and didn't have the best luck with food. To make a long story short, I ordered something that turned out to be a lamb stew. I hate stews. A lot. So, with hopes of turning things around, we went to this little hole-in-the-wall place called the Hangar B Eatery at the municipal airport. The food was spectacular -- probably the best breakfast we've ever had. But what really made the difference was the three, free delicious blueberry muffins we got for having to wait an extra 15 minutes because of the crowd.

Generosity, it seems, is still alive and well. And its made the last week our lives -- which included our first anniversary as a married couple -- that much better.

The Science of Bridget Bombs

They lurk, quietly, around corners. They often show up in the kitchen, the bedroom, and the family room. And they show up night or day -- they can appear right when we wake up or, much to my delight, after three hours of shoveling.

They are -- drumroll, please -- Bridget Bombs.

What's a Bridget Bomb? Webster's Dictionary defines it as "a discarded collection of items owned by Bridget Kylah Briddon that is strewn about within a living space." In other words, bombs consist of wrappers, single slippers, dirty dishes, unmade beds, and anything else you can probably imagine. (A recent one is pictured above.) They are not so much fun -- for me, anyway.

Now, if you know me and Bridget, you know we're not all that similar sometimes. For example, on your average Sunday morning, I'll get up, go to the gym, take Oscar to Fresh Pond, and go grocery shopping before 10:30 AM. Bridget, on the other hand, prefers rolling over (sometimes twice!) and finding the cool side of the pillow.

Another example: When she cooks, Bridget uses as many pots and pans as possible, and makes sure to use the stickiest substances in each of them. When I cook, I attempt to clean the pots when they are still on the burner. (I sound fun, don't I?)

To put it simply: I'm the neat one. Bridget is the "creative" one.

So, these Bridget Bombs, you might imagine, are a huge, divisive issue. The thing is, though, they really aren't. And it's because of humor. As a married couple, there are many things we see differently, but they don't seem so bad when we add an element of humor to them.

In the early days of our marriage -- the first couple months, which many people say are the toughest -- we hadn't figured out this little trick. Instead, I'd come upon a Bridget Bomb and say, "Hey, can you clean this up? I'd rather not live in filth." Not surprisingly, this didn't go over so well. Now, I go around and make little explosion noises, which makes us both laugh a little. It diffuses the situation for both of us and, to be honest, I really don't know who ends up cleaning the bombs. It really doesn't matter.

Is humor the answer in every situation? Of course not. But sometimes a little alliterative name for an annoying habit can mean the difference between an argument and a smile.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I see a small explosion on the table behind me ...