So I’m on my way back to the office after a Chamber of Commerce committee meeting today, and decide to pull through Wendy’s since I’d missed lunch. As the nice lady at the drivethru is handing me my order she says, “I just loved your column about The Big Dick! I laughed and laughed!”
Somewhat puzzled, I reply, “Gee, I’m pretty sure I’ve never written a column about that!”
“You know the one,” she says, “where you couldn’t get your tractor started. You call your tractor The Big Dick or something like that.”
“Oh,” I say, “you mean The Dave Brown.”
“Yeah, that one.”
Those of you who follow along will know about The Dave Brown, ie. the David Brown, which is a brand of tractor they used to make in Great Britain and was eventually purchased by and amalgamated with Case. Dave Brown and I have had our differences in the years it has resided at our place.
Which reminds me of another Dave Brown story I’ve been meaning to tell. A couple of Mondays ago, when we were having a blizzard, I went out to fire up Dave Brown in the morning and, as per usual, it wouldn’t start. As it was a day off for me, I pulled out the battery and asked Syd to drive it into Canadian Tire for charging.
“I have to drop off my car at Jay’s,” she said. “Why don’t I ask Jay to charge it for you?”
Which was a fine idea. We’ve taken our vehicles to Jay’s Service for the past few years, largely because he and his guys do great work and their customer service is second to none. Expecting that Syd would pick up the battery at the end of the day and bring it home with her after work, I settled in to putzing around the farm.
About mid-afternoon the phone rings and it’s Jay, saying he’s at the front gate. “We’ve got your battery,” he says. “If you don’t mind, we’ll bring it in to you and just make sure the Dave Brown starts OK.”
So Jay and his righthand man Richard come in to where Dave Brown is parked. Richard hauls out the battery and commences to connect it back up. But then he sees one of the clamps is somewhat melted on the bottom, which I hadn’t noticed but which is clearly the problem rather than the battery itself. He works away at it for a few minutes and then says, “OK, give it a try,” and Dave Brown instantly leaps to life.
If they hadn’t driven 35 minutes from their station to the farm to personally deliver the battery, I would have put it back in myself and started swearing at the Dave Brown all over again because it would not have started.
Keep in mind, we’re out there in driving snow and it is not at all pleasant. But the bottom line is this: Jay refuses to take payment.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is called customer service.