The value of impersonal transactions
The Omnivore’s Dilemma was my introduction to the world of food. It was a fantastic read with a lot of interesting insights, but my overarching takeaway was to try and eat more locally-sourced food. And once that thought was planted in my head, it didn’t stop with food; I started to see supporting local businesses more generally as a worthy mission. This was further reinforced as the pandemic hit and there was talk of the impending death of the local business.
As we’re establishing a new home in North Carolina, we’ve been making a conscious effort to try and go local. From movers to lawn care to farmer’s markets, we’ve tried to seek out local alternatives to the larger brands. It’s been surprisingly gratifying – you talk to real people and feel a closer connection to the goods and services you procure.
But it hasn’t all been roses. There’s been one thing that I miss about impersonal transactions. One thing that I yearn for whenever something goes wrong with a purchase. And that’s the impersonal complaint.
I’m a master of the impersonal complaint. Having worked on call center escalations as a consultant, I know how companies try to retain customers and what to say to get maximum value from them. There’s nothing like the satisfaction of getting $100 in credit or 10,000 miles or a 20% discount or something else after an hour of purposeful yelling.
With local businesses, it doesn’t work the same way. It doesn’t feel like a random Uber driver or an AT&T rep. You get to know their names. Even if it isn’t a repeat transaction, it somehow feels more personal.
When our movers took their damn time unloading the truck, at first I enjoyed the conversation and the more laid-back nature of being in the South vs. the Northeast. Then, I started to get annoyed. “I’m paying by the hour here.” As time passed, it became clearer – while they were friendly guys, they were NOT professional movers. As I could see their pace was not going to get me to our estimated completion time, I swallowed my tongue, rolled up my sleeves, and started moving boxes myself.
Even still, the movers ended up costing me an extra $140. I thought long and hard about calling the company with my complaints, but it just didn’t feel right. One of the guys had offered to invite my daughter to his daughter’s upcoming birthday party. Another had tried to convince me of the benefits of jiu-jitsu instead of playing tennis and basketball.
When it goes well, I am loving going local. When there’s something to complain about, I miss the days of impersonal transactions, where I could complain to my heart’s (wallet’s?) content without a second thought for the individuals involved.