I met Emily today

I met Emily today. A ball of sunshine. Warmth in human form.

Unlike Nairobi. Which has been taking the whole warmth thing a little too literally. The city has been on fire. Today was cooler than yesterday, and yesterday was cooler than the day before. A welcome reprieve from the heat, but by 4 p.m., I find myself drained.

A full day of meeting people, pitching yourself and your product because you have big dreams that you must realize. You’ve lost enough time already; there isn’t a second to lose, so you are relentless.

You are an introvert. Those who have interacted with you would swear on their grandmother’s grave that you are not, and they could pull receipts and evidence enough to have you incarcerated into extroversion for life. But they don’t know you like you know you.

You’ve spent a lifetime learning how to talk to people, read them, and find your way into a conversation. You can turn on your smile and charm like the fairy lights on a Christmas tree. You can and you do.

Which is why when you meet people with horrible customer service, it irks you to death. Why can’t they do the same?

I almost walked away from a meeting today because the lady clearly hasn’t received the same training I have. Or perhaps she has, she just couldn’t be bothered to apply a single ounce of it.

It isn’t personal. I can tell she just doesn’t have it in her. Even with a gun to her head, she might register a 1% improvement. She keeps talking to other people mid-sentence while she’s in conversation with me. She’s curt and isn’t interested in paying attention to the person in front of her. Everything else is more important. She’s also obviously memorized her routine and would rather get hit by a falling boulder than attempt to give it life. Maybe she’s overworked or stressed. Not for me to deduce or excuse.

She’s showing me around, and at some point, I lag behind for fear of my life. Literally. Miss thing continues walking and talking for what feels like an interminable stretch, not realizing or caring that I’m no longer with her.

At some point, I stop attempting to catch up to her. I want to see how long it will take before she notices she’s talking and gesticulating to herself. It takes her a while. When she finally realizes, she looks back, searching for me. When she finds me, her face contorts itself in irritation. “What are you doing there?” her face and eyes ask before she flashes a fake smile and motions me to follow. “It’s safe, don’t worry.” she says, barely reassuring herself.

Problem is, when that large boulder I’m watching for drops on my head and instantaneously converts me into a vegetable, all she’ll have to say is “aki pole” in the most contrite tone she can manufacture. But who does that help? Now I’m a cabbage.

Anyway, after a long day of doing my best to charm the pants off everyone, I make a spontaneous decision to make one more stop. I find parking within walking distance and when I get there, I summon my inner extrovert, raise my hand and knock on the dusty gray gate, bracing myself for a scowling, impatient, indifferent and likely rude guard.

I have knocked on many gates in my life, hundreds, maybe a thousand? (Story for another day) and I’ve mastered the art of expecting a cold reception, then having to thaw things out with my bright smile and charm.

I see a figure approaching, draped in that famous luminous green vest synonymous with the job. The gate is pulled open, and I’m greeted with this radiant, beautiful smiling face. The brand on her uniform shirt is Securex. She’s warm and welcoming in a way that catches me totally off guard. I did not anticipate this. Something in me unclenches. Not just my butt. Everything. I feel like an elephant’s foot has been lifted from my back. I could’ve sworn I visibly crumbled in relief, my shoulders dropping away from my ears.

I involuntarily summon a smile to match hers. I learn her name is Emily, and proceed to explain the purpose of my visit.

She welcomes me in and leads me to that darned sign-in book where we’re expected to surrender half our identities “for security reasons.” I do it begrudgingly every single time, murmuring curses under my breath about the relevance of it all.

But today, under Emily’s guidance, I could not be gladder to share all my PII (Personally Identifiable Information) with a bunch of strangers. After a few laughs, she and Wilberforce, her partner for the day, give me clear instructions on how to get to where I need to go.

On the way out, we chitchat about stuff I don’t remember. Funny how you can forget an entire conversation and still carry the feeling someone left you with. I leave feeling dignified, at ease and somehow lighter.

I eventually ask Emily if I can take a picture with her because she’s been the highlight of my day. A rare occurrence. One I want to capture and remember. Emily and Wilberforce happily oblige. Naturally, I buy them tea to say thank you. It’s the Kenyan thing to do.

I came in expecting to brace myself for another unpleasant interaction. Instead, I leave with a photograph, a lighter heart, and a reminder that kindness doesn’t have to be grand to be memorable. Sometimes, it’s simply treating the person in front of you like they matter.

Dear Securex, I hope you know what you have in Emily. Please make her Employee of the Month. Give her a raise, too, while you’re at it. She’s out here making people’s days, and that deserves to count for something.

To Emily and Boniface, thank you for being the best part of my day.

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Aside. It surprises me that, in this day and age, businesses can afford to take customer service for granted. In a world where there are 197 other businesses offering the same service as you within a 2-mile radius, customer service can be treated as an afterthought. Like it’s no big deal.

Yet it’s one of a business’s most significant differentiators. You can spend a fortune getting people through the door and lose them in a single conversation. Customer service can win or lose you hundreds, thousands, even millions in seconds. Surely, we can do better.

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