If you want a tl:dr, scroll to the bottom.

This wasn’t inspired by my editorial work, but by life as an American consumer. That doesn’t mean it can’t apply, but it does mean it isn’t written from my vendor perspective. It stems from my time on the other, paying side.

Most of us 1970s kids were raised with a great falsehood. Some of us still believe it a factual selling principle in spite of all evidence to the contrary:

The customer is always right.

No. They’re not. They can’t be. The very statement is obvious baloney. The act of making it is a red flag big enough to sell to China.

In fact, some customers are stupid and wrong, and they are rarely if ever right. Nearly every customer who tries to quote that fiction is either harboring a delusion or using it as a club to beat the vendor into submission. A fair restatement from a vendor perspective would be:

The customer is right as often as we can arrange for them to be without giving away the store.

Until we accept that reality, we begin from a place of unrealism. It’s not that all vendors always do the right thing. Some never do, and some are outright criminals, but let’s at least assume that most vendors adopt a public perspective of enlightened self-interest. While they do want business, they don’t want to make enemies in the process because that’s bad business. (Ask Ziply Fiber.)

It follows that they’d like to keep good customers happy: those who pay on time, treat them decently, appreciate good things, and don’t raise hell over trivial stuff. Some more entitled vendors might add a few clauses designed only for their benefit, and most of those vendors have a problem.

Your call is not important to us anymore, and how I know

Be a bad enough customer long enough, and they stop trying to please you in hope that you will just stop calling. (There are other ways of dealing with this. I know an attorney who charges what he calls the “asshole tax.”) Habitually bad customers have alienated everyone within reach, and might have no other choice. They’re the people who called the nurse a stupid bitch one time, but are now stuck with her in the ER and she has to treat them even if she still quite rightly resents that insult. As a pro, she will do what is needed and correct, but there’s more she might do if she felt motivated.

I know these things because I have worked in sales, and I also used to be a bad customer. I was raised to imitate many bad things, including a horrible sense of snobbish pretension. I was raised by observing what I later realized were serious Karen stereotypes. Once I hit my thirties I realized that this was misguided and selfish–and highly counterproductive.

The mental workings I had used to justify this to myself were that I never wanted to be deprived of the slightest bit of fair value. The world was a damn ripoff and by God, I wasn’t taking it in silence. I didn’t get what I wanted? I demanded some form of compensation. I had to wait too long? Same. Suck service? I’d learn them with a dime tip.

On some level I was right in some of those cases, at least from a purely pecuniary tactical standpoint. From a strategic standpoint I was losing the war over pennies and nickels. I had to learn the principle of enlightened self-interest. I had to realize that, as Venita van Caspel taught us back in the day, that I should look at what something or some situation paid me rather than what it cost me.

Okay, I was an ass. Now what?

I changed. I never again sent back an entrée, stopped talking to managers about bad food or service. If I didn’t like the service at a restaurant, I still didn’t tip; I just paid my bill and never went back. Ever, ever. Why would I want to help people doing bad business? Go on BegsDoor (a place that will help you understand how this country got into the state it’s in) and you’ll see armies of people saying “you should tell the manager about it.” Why have a negative interaction when I’m already not very happy and never coming back? Faaaa. I’ve already accepted that I got poor value, and it’s the management’s job to prevent that, so I assume they are doing their jobs and approve of this. Let them manage their outfit without free consulting from me.

Pay without a word, then leave. Not my problem. Feedback is for valued vendors.

Obviously, I still believe in fair value. My view of fair value expanded. My psychological state also has value, and I’m not going to screw it up because the restaurant charges premium pricing for cheap ingredients. I’ll go do something more enjoyable.

It’s not too smart to let past negatives screw up your present (that’s how old people become grumpy old people), so I tried my best to start each new relationship with a positive and open-minded outlook. Without that, it’s pretty hard to lay the groundwork for what  might become a great relationship. Where it went from there was up to the vendor.

It started to work. Having removed myself from the problem side of the equation, I gained better outcomes. I stopped re-using bad vendors–but if the vendor did fine, I would treat them right. I might dicker a bit over a price, especially where they expected it, but if I got a discount then I considered I had a higher duty to them. They wanted to charge me less? Great; I would make sure they weren’t sorry they’d given me a good deal. If I sensed that the discount might cost me more than it saved me, I would not ask. Some discounts are not good discounts.

There is a concept in Theodism (a branch of Germanic heathenism which I respect, though I’m not a member) called “right good will.” Simply put, it means that you treat your friend, sibling, etc. better than expected. The idea is that you don’t have to watch your value equation because they’re watching yours. They are fine with doing that because you are watching theirs.

This also influenced me. It reminds me to see the world through other eyes. What would make the vendor delighted to hear from me? If I value that vendor, I ask myself that question.

For example…

The dividends the overall approach has paid are lasting and warming. Let’s take the best of the local Mexican restaurants here (which sadly isn’t saying a lot). Most of their waitresses don’t speak a lot of English. I speak just enough Spanish to empathize, and have lived my entire life in the American West. Hispanic culture is a part of our region’s heritage. Experience with the language and culture showed me that in Spanish-speaking cultures, to speak badly can be embarrassing. I noticed this because the staff members were always praising my truly awful Spanish, and I came to understand the unspoken message: I am a courteous person who will not humiliate you.

Well, I wouldn’t be embarrassed, but I see what you’re doing. Muchas gracias, Señorita.

I adopted that rather civilized outlook as my own (at least in those restaurants; definitely not when editing, where I simply have to tell the client the truth). It’s certainly more civilized than bullying a newcomer who is doing her best, as a percentage of people would earn my contempt by doing. So when the waitress spoke to me, I would say something nice about her accent, or how well she spoke. Every time I did so, I watched the tension drain from the server’s features. She understood that this (heavy-bearded, old, male) Anglo at least would not snarl at her or humiliate her.

It was easy to leave good tips, considering the great service I received. I had done nearly nothing to deserve this but fib a little. How is that anything but an amazing deal? Best value ever: better experience almost for free, and walking out happy. Word will get around. Come back any time soon, and notice a special respect in some folks’ tones, eyes. Nice way to start off a dinner date with my wife!

There are times not to dicker even if you could. An example is my favorite sports card vendor. We met for the first time in a parking lot, and I looked over the vintage cards he had priced for me. The price was very fair, so instead of dickering, I pulled out my checkbook and paid what he asked. This was the beginning of over a decade of business, with the deals getting better and better over time. If I couldn’t afford it, I’d tell him so rather than ask him to lower the price. He might offer to do that on his own. The value was always there; it was just a question of what I could afford to spend on old cards.

We became friends, and we’re still doing card business. I’ve even sold him some, which brought the flip side into play. I tried to base the price on what he would consider a great deal, but wasn’t sure about what that might be. I had to push him, however politely, and finally said the magic words: “Look. This is the best chance I’ve had to treat you as well as you treat me. You’re offering me $150 and I think it’s too much. Would you consider $125 an awesome deal?” He admitted he would. “Then not a penny more,” I said, enjoying the whole transaction. $25 to do right by someone who has asked thousands of dollars less than he could have over the years? Barely even registers. I hope I get to do him a great deal again sometime.

When a bad vendor screws up–as, being bad vendors, they customarily do–they’re going to be off the list anyway. When a good one screws up, that’s when you really cement the relationship. In a previous city of residence, I had an auto mechanic relationship so excellent that I’ve been tempted to take my vehicle back there for service, three and a half hours away. Well, one day they gave my name out to AAA without asking me, and I got an inquiry/questionnaire about them. Now, I don’t cotton one bit to having my information sprayed about without my advance consent, and I am often inclined to be very vindictive about that, but this was the best shop in town. When my battery was toast and I needed a jump, they sent a guy out to do it so I could drive to their shop. Is that not awesome? Who burns a vendor relationship like that? More plainly spoken, who is so shortsighted, childish, and stupid as to do so?

So rather than pitch a fit, I sat down with one of the managers I’d seen mature over fifteen years. I explained why I had a big problem with the info sharing. He explained that they were shooting for AAA certification of some sort, and that it would help their business a lot. “I get it,” I said. “Normally I’d be pretty pissed, but I respect you guys a lot. Please don’t do that again, but I won’t say anything rough on the survey. Fair?” He was relieved and appreciative. Relationship preserved, message received.

In 2024 I had spinal cord surgery for a condition that would otherwise have killed me, with debilitating pain ultimately destined for quadriplegia and death. I woke up in the ICU and was able to move my hands, and I felt better than I had in six months. I’d never before spent the night in a hospital, and my self-adopted daughter and some very good friends are nurses. The worst possible thing I could do was be at my worst, and it would be real smart to be at my best instead. The night shift nurse was kind and did some small thing to make me more comfortable. When I said “Thank you, Nurse,” she told me I was welcome to call her by her first name. “I appreciate that,” I replied through the medical fog, “but I’m pretty sure you worked very hard to become an RN. You earned that title.” She was surprised but not at all displeased. Nurses don’t get a tenth the respect they deserve. Try it.

Word gets around. The morning nurse got the same treatment, and asked if I needed anything. I asked was there any chance I could get a good cup of strong non-cafeteria coffee? “No problem,” she said. She kept checking back and ended up bringing me four cups of the good stuff before finally suggesting this might be a good time to switch to tea. I smiled, laughed, and went along. I wasn’t very needy and stayed off the call button. When they had to perform tests, even when I wasn’t much in the mood, I went along without giving them any guff. They have more than one patient and the give part of the give-and-take is to refrain from grousing about when they get their periodic duties done. You help them, they help you.

I was home about 48 hours after they stitched up my neck and detubated me (that should be a word). Coincidence? I suspect that 25ish me would have ended up in rehab rather than just going home. He would have made their lives harder, giving them zero reason to make his easier. Better philosophy = happier outcome.

One year my wife and I were at a pretty nice restaurant for our anniversary. The kitchen botched up our order, and started in on a party of 25 immediately after. The waiter had the unfortunate job of breaking the news to me. “It’s all right,” I said. “We live by a simple principle. Want to know what it is?” He nodded, actually near tears; he knew it was our anniversary. I motioned him closer and lowered my voice below the din of a busy dining room. “It’s easy. Don’t be assholes in the restaurant. No one’s trying to make your day worse. Stuff goes wrong. I know you’ll take care of us. In the meantime, I’m here with my best friend.” Down came the tears, but he also laughed. He got the great tip he deserved, and we got free desserts.

Guess how many times that’s happened over the years? It’s simple enough: Just be someone they’d like to make happy, rather than someone they hope never returns. I’ve lived both ways and the first is far more pleasant.

Believe it or not, part of it is knowing when to at least try to refuse taking something for free. A good vendor who has a bad day will often offer you too good a deal, such as not charging you for this or that. If you have the ability to calculate a good deal for you, you have the ability to calculate too good a deal. If this is a vendor you want to keep around and make you a priority, you have two options. One would be to simply make the payment for more, but that has an element of forcing a kindness on someone. More tactful, and likely to be declined but very much respected, is the rejoinder to her: “Hey, I really appreciate that, and it says a lot about your principles. $X – 30% is too much, though. You still did in the end come through; it just went a little sideways, and we all have rough days. You still need to make a living. I think you should split the difference with me at $X – 15%.”

As Molly Ivins might say today, you could then knock her over with Pete Hegseth’s bourbon brain. She’ll probably decline, which is all right; you made an honest effort and she knows it. Even if she accepts–and it’s good to push a bit–you still got a very good deal. Either way, she’s not going to forget you soon. Not only were you kind to her on a lousy day, but you tried hard to make sure it was still a decent deal for her. Put another way, you did your best to be great business for her. She’d like to do more in the future. If it’s between you and some mean old bastard (the kind forever and ironically leaning into the “honored citizen” stuff, reaming grocery checkers for carding them for alcohol) who hammers her on price and then complains about any tiny detail, who’s getting taken care of? Who’s better business?

It works this way in many situations. It earns ridiculous benefits: servicing priority, better pricing, quality work. The objective is to be someone they do not want to lose.

I’m not saying that your whole purpose for business is to kiss your vendors’ asses. Every day my browser opens up with a news aggregation of listicles telling us all the things we should do to make it easier for people. TSA agents, flight attendants, truck drivers, etc., etc. It’s too much, and unless you are a professional altruist or have no self-respect, at some point it’s natural to ask yourself if your counterparts are planning to make any extra effort on our behalf–you know, out of fairness. Otherwise it’s basically: Let me get this straight. My primary concern should be making your day easier. It’s unlikely you plan to show much appreciation. I should invest half my energy in your concerns with what motivation?

A few small asks, that’s fine. Asks that make sense anyway, that’s fine. Have no goal but to kiss your ass? That’s not fine. I think maybe I’ll fall back on treating you the way you treat me. You care about me, I care about you. You show you don’t care about me, fine; you entitle me to feel the same.

I fail to see what’s wrong with that–either way.

So no, it’s not about being everyone’s buddy, nor about restructuring my whole way of life to the Suckup Model. I don’t reward bad business, and if truly screwed, my rages are legendary and my memory eternal. I’m still pissed off at those movers from Boise. There’s an orthopedic surgeon in eastern Washington I came close to decking. I refuse to use self-checkout and that now keeps me away from Blowe’s and Home Despot. I’ve boycotted American Airlines for forty years. I quit donating to every Catholic charity when they poured several mill into manipulating elections in my home state. Every. Single. One.

In other words, none of this is me cosplaying Barney. I don’t turn the other cheek. It is enlightened self-interest; I want good outcomes and I have figured out how to maximize the chances. I also care about pleasant interactions and relationships, and I have found a way to have those and the good outcomes. The bad ones can stay on my bad side and out of my way. I will reward the good ones emotionally and financially.

If I don’t give them a chance to be likeable and good to me, that’s on me. It isn’t always possible. In some situations I’ve learned that I need to put up an automatic emotional wall, especially with car dealerships. The more they go on about how they’re an “alternative,” “no bull/no dicker,” “believe in nice,” the more certain you can be that you’ll gain nothing from trying to develop harmony. They are sure to do something you despise because that’s their identity, but you need a car. So treat it like dealing with a fairly dumb bureaucrat who has the power to hose you; maintain your composure; and sidestep all efforts to “establish rapport” and “overcome objections.” Bargain as though it’s life or death, without remorse or emotion, and plan to walk away the first time.

Don’t answer questions that are none of their fucking business, but don’t say it that way; just move past the rude question. (I’ve actually had a car salesman insist on an answer to some personal question, and then get mad at me because I told him that wasn’t pertinent. Guess how many people I’ve told about that place, with its whole “we’re the nice people” schtick. Not that I’d ever dime out Wilsonville Toyota, nor in any way imply that they behaved this way. Of course not. They just randomly came to mind.)

Kindness and good relationships are for those where it will matter. If you’re forced to deal with basic evil, you are at complete liberty to think only of your own interests. They surely will. If you have a mean streak, it’s okay to bring it out when dealing with evil. In fact, I consider it admirable.

So what’s the technique?

• Evaluate a vendor on the first transaction, and decide whether you care. If you don’t care, find another vendor for that or just accept that this’ll never get better and stay with mediocrity. (Often necessary in small towns where there are only so many options and half the time they don’t even show up.)
• Be polite and kind to good service providers, and don’t go back to those who don’t appreciate decent treatment. If you have no other option, put up the emotional wall and get through it.
• Be especially polite and kind to service providers who see people at their worst, which is accomplished by trying to be at your best.
• Don’t dicker just because you can. First see if their pricing is pretty fair, and if so, just pay it.
• If you go to a store and milk them for some free advice, buy something. Always buy something when you go, even if small.
• Remember that you’re not their only customer/patient/whatever. This could be called empathy.
• Remember that they too have to make a living. This too could be called empathy.
• Don’t overcontrol when you don’t really know that much. If they ask how you prefer something be done, ask them what they think makes the most sense.
• Do little things. Tree removal people working all day in your back yard? Let them know they’re welcome to use your patio to eat their lunch. Hot as Satan’s perineum out there? Would it hurt you to offer them some ice water? Doubt it.

That could summarize this whole blog post. Be kind and generous until people show you that you need to be selfish.