Last week, I turned 48. Here's the rundown as I saw it by generation of how customers were treated then versus now...


The 1950s
Yikes! I'm going to beg off this one as I was only alive for six months of that decade. Whew!
The 1960s
Candy
Now, THIS I remember. There was a little store down the street from our house, called Jarnicky's, which sold penny candy.Yes, candy for a penny a piece.You peered into a big glass counter and a stately man scooped up the pieces you picked and put them into individual pint size brown bags. For ten cents, the bag was nearly bursting.
No kid chomping gum and talking on his cell phone. No self- serve. No siree. This was personal service and patient service. This man almost was gleeful in helping each of us seven kids (not that strange back then) make our selections. Oh - and he always added in an eleventh piece for free.
Candy buying experience in 2007 vs. 1967
Selection, only if it's prepackaged. You don't know how long anything's been sitting around. And service from stately gentlemen? Must have been a figment of my imagination. Pfft. Gone with the wind. Boy was that lovely. I'll remember that place for all of my life. I can still smell the candy wafting in the air and hear the bells jingling on the door as we walked in or out that door to Jarnicky's.
The 1970's
Gas stations.
I learned to drive in 1975. And even though I pulled in to the gas station with a buck or two pulled together to meet the requirement from my dad's "you better put some gas in the car before you come home" statement as I'd run out the door -- a team (yes, team) of attendants would come on out as soon as I drove over that piece of rubber hose that cut across the driveway of the gas station. They weren't half as interesting or joyful as how the movies depict these guys, but they were prompt, filled the car up, took my money and brought back the change. I didn't have to get out of the car, and my windows always got washed.
Filling up the tank in 2007 vs. 1975
No attendants. I don't really count those people in the mini-mart as an attendant. They take the money when the machine says "see cashier." I've never once seen one venture out into the gas filling area. And where did all those rubber hoses go that went "ding!" when we drove in? Gone with how it feels to filler up these days - no one notices if you were there or not.
Loyalty for a gas company? If someone told me how one brand of indifferent service was over the other, maybe I could have an opnion.
The 1980s
Dry cleaners.
Could our shoulder pads have gotten ANY bigger? I mean really! In 1981 when I graduated from college, I made a bee-line to Crate and Barrel to buy my standard ration of juice jar glasses, placemats and whatever else I could get for fifty bucks. Felt like a bundle to me - because I can tell you that my $11,000 a year starting salary sure didn't once I had to figure out how to live on it.
Since everything I bought to wear to my new shiny career was too long, I turned to the local dry clearners for help. In the miniature orbit of my world back then, they just about filled up my Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Only a block from the place I rented, these wonderful people hemmed my pants (on credit when I was living on fumes), cared about my new life, fed me and sent me home with leftovers and helped me figure out the neighborhood.
Dry Cleaners in 2007 vs. 1981
THIS I would say is one of the longest standing bastions of human kindness left in retailing I'm not sure if sitting in a steamy environment all day long gives people kinder hearts - but most corner dry cleaners still go the extra mile. As most are still independants, our dry-cleaners remember us by face (if not by name), trust us inexpicably when we've forgotten our wallet, rush to get the hemming done on our pants due to our perennial lack of planning, and always seem to have food around that is gladly shared. No need for databases to 'wire in' corporate memory - they know us because they're there when we arrive every time. And the pride seeps through that they are there to serve. Bravo!
The 1990s
Home buying.
Bought my first house in 1990. Home buying in the 90s seemed to be like floating aimlessly down a river current without a paddle. Once you were magically approved, actions were scheduled, paperwork put in motion and countless trees began to be cut down to print your closing documents. ou got about three conversations out of the loan officer:
#1 - the first conversation on rank, age and serial number to determine if you were worthy of getting funded; #2 - the jubilant (I'm kidding) call to say you were approved, and #3 - the "sign here," "sign here," "sign here" on the day that money jumped from their pocket to yours and suddenly you owned a house.
Walking out the door of the loan office with your big paper folder and 2-inches thick of paper and those coupons to make the payment - you were, well, scared &(*^)^*. At least I was. Oh, I forgot conversation #4 - "Congratulations" was delivered as the loan people showed you the door so they could show in the next lucky contestant (errr customer) on "we'll give you a loan if your numbers (that you have no clue how they reached) are right."
Home Buying and Loans in 2007 vs. 1998
The service is still up and down, but as consumers we are out of the dark ages. Thank goodness that we are now allowed to be informed about FICO scores and how loan grades are calculated and our options when it comes to choosing a bank - and that it is not "tacky" to shop around. Putting the information into our hands that we all have as prospective consumers of loan companies and banks has at least put us in a bit of the driver's seat on this one. The massive amount of information that consumers are privvy to now, has this industry starting to take notice.
2000 and Beyond
Parental healthcare.
In this age of HMOs and rotating physicians going in and out of the rounds to serve my mom and dad, I've literally got whip-lash. Navigating the labyrinth of requirements by medical 'silo' (muscle pain, heart pain, physical therapy, home health care) is tedious and so time consuming it's exasperating. If our parents weren't already weakened before they began, surely the process of trying to figure out how to navigate getting care will make them feel nauseous. Someone needs to ride in on a white horse and wrestle this down to the ground for parents and their exasperated children around the globe.
Hope you enjoyed my bit of nostalgia. I'll be back next week with something more sage than a walk down memory lane!