Kate’s going to die. This is not news; we’re all going to die after all. Nevertheless, it’s hit me like a tabloid headline, like a vulgar shout, like a home invasion. My beautiful, feisty, curly-haired friend (and former “cupcake killer” partner in PTO crime) is going to die. Before she turns 50. Before her daughters graduate high school. Before many of us, including her are ready. She only just told her girls that the disease they’ve watched consume her for the last two years has reached an end-point.

They already knew. We all did. Still in our irrational belief in miracles, we all denied it. At the risk of being accused of blaming the victim I must say Kate didn’t help matters much. She’s always been a private, extremely self-sufficient person. Perhaps this came from being raised in a houseful of sisters or from her years as a single mom whose husband didn’t fool around with another woman, ask for a divorce or leave her. He died too, tragically before her youngest was even born. Whatever the reason, Kate retreated into a very small world, keeping much of the gore to herself, asking for and/or accepting so little that many of us on the perimeter felt hollow… like she was already gone.

And, therein lies the “odd” part of this consideration. When Kate passes, I know for a fact, as sure as I’m still living, that it won’t really affect my day that much. I imagine there are some who will scoff at that, call me cold, heartless even… but really, when we’re being COMPLETELY HONEST how many of us could say the exact same thing?!? We may give a hug, make a call, send a card. If our schedules allow, we may even attend the service and shed a tear, but is it profound… or perfunctory? That’s how disconnected we are from the truly meaningful events in our lives and those of our neighbors, so-called friends… and even, sadly, family members.

I speak from experience. Just before Christmas our family lost its patriarch. Amidst an array of completely human and physical “failings” he left us to figure it out… alone. Rather than see the blessing right in front of our eyes, the entire family resorted to isolation and private hurt. Rather than shared experience, the profundity was swept under the rug… like a secret, like a mess... so NOT like the connecting experience that reminds us of our very common life… and death. Our humanity is fragile and incredible at the same time. Our relationships could be what connect us through time and space, through life and death, so we understand and appreciate our own living… and dying.

It’s not unusual to experience poor customer service. In a society driven by consumption such voluminous interactions can go awry with regularity. The modern dance of daily tasks coordinated within razor thin windows of opportunity leave little room for misstep much less the human reality of frailty and more recently, multi-tasking.

So it was with exuberance a friend and I contrasted a common experience – dining out. Hers was over five years ago and she has not returned. Mine a few months ago and I long to revisit one of my favorite epicurean destinations.

What lies behind our unique experiences? It’s not the food.

The experience we each had was the same – poor customer service followed by an even worse response from the front-line supervisor. The difference arose when we both followed through with an up-the-chain conversation relating our experience.

In the case of my friend, the care she took to communicate hers was met with lackluster concern.

Mine was met with a full inquiry of specifics.

Hers was summarily reduced to a singular event and was assured she and the restaurant were immune from any future repeat of a “not normal service level.”

For me, the point person took my address and asked me to use the gift certificates he was forwarding to, at our convenience, revisit and experience the restaurant in question again.

Then, he asked in a manner I can only associate with the eager willingness of someone whom really wanted to know, to call him (on his cell number that I was presently using) and provide every detail of our meal and dining experience.

You can imagine the cost (or lost revenue) to her, once favored establishment and also estimate the retained value of my loyalty. Now scale each up by (x) for the same experience had by others.

This value is created within the organizational culture and with all things cultural, they take time. Coaching, training and skills development are the components that firmly establish any long-term paradigm or process. The response (words and reactions) we each experienced when seeking to communicate our interaction with the respective organizational leadership were set as a matter of culture even before we had our individual meals.

Momentum is tough to change. Outward representations of unseen forces are easy to identify, thus we have no lack of spectators to inefficiencies and poor processes. The way to sustainable cultural change lies in the imagination and involvement of those same spectators. Once given the surety they have the resources and latitude to create – their intrinsic motivation moves mountains.

The next time you enjoy a wonderful customer experience, pay a quick thanks to the many who worked hard and supported the learning processes of those delivering that present joy. The fleeting moments we tend to take for granted are often years in the making.