A week ago, one of the neighbor’s two athletic pit bulls bounded over the three-and-half foot fence in our backyard.

I was on my computer in our dining room facing the window to the backyard. I heard some commotion.

I looked up to see the pit bull with its jaws around the throat of our Golden Retriever. I screamed something forgettable as I darted for the back door, looking for something to club the pit bull. I meant to kill the dog. I grabbed a folder chair sitting against the wall in the kitchen and headed out the door. Our dog Zoey would have been dead in minutes.

Fortunately, just as I bolted through the door, the pit bull’s owner grabbed the collar of her dog. The owner also had hopped the fence in pursuit of her wayward dog.

Then, I realized that our three-and-half-year-old daughter was also in the back yard. She was safe.

I can’t remember another time in my recent past when I’ve been so amped up. Blood from our dog’s lip, eye, and ear streaked her coat and stained our hands.

I stormed back into the house and called 911. The neighbor was fined $25, but the police said, essentially, that unless the pit bull draws blood from a human, not much would happen.

The incident led me to confront the veterinarian who had cared for one of our other dogs, which had died about a year and a half earlier.

Like a Really Bad Habit

By noon of the next day, Zoey’s eye was draining and started to swell. The eye was infected. The pit-bull attack had punctured her left eyelid.  I also realized that I had let Zoey’s rabies and distemper shots lapse.

The reason was because I had been so angry with the veterinarian clinic to which we had taken our dogs for almost 14 years. I had not been to the (or any) clinic since.

When our other golden (Cassidy) died, the doctors did the unforgivable: Instead of telling us the truth (that our dog needed to be put down), they took our money.

The vet recommended keeping Cassidy on IVs in the animal hospital for three days. I picked up the dog at 4, and she died two hours later at 6. The bill was about $650.

I was done with the clinic.

But here I was. I needed a vet to examine Zoey. I had not researched another clinic, and now I was in crisis mode.

Like the compulsion that makes me reach for a second bowl of ice cream, I picked up the phone and made the appointment. To the same veterinarian clinic.

What Telling the Truth Will Get You

On the drive over, I justified to myself why I was off the wagon. I steeled myself, determined I would tell the truth to one of the veterinarians. I’d tell him or her my reason for not being a customer for a year and half.

So, after the vet looked over Zoey, I said, “We haven’t brought Zoey back since Cassidy died.”

No comment. Nothing. Silence. I expected, “Really? Why’s that?”

So I proceeded.

“We brought Cassidy in right before she died,” I said. “You put her on IVs for several days, but when I took her home, we had to call a visiting veterinarian to our house to put her down. I wished you had been more honest with us, instead of taking our money.”

Again, only silence. This time, it was an awkward silence.

The next thing I know, the vet says, “Zoey looks good. You can pick her up in a couple hours.”

That was it.

I took away three principles from that conversation:

1) You can run a business for a long time and not really listen to your clients/customers. And get away with it, contrary to conventional “the customer is always right” wisdom.

2) A long-term customer will often give you several chances to make amends. All you have to do is listen. (And maybe grunt even once to acknowledge the frustration.)

3) I am a slug. Though I would never refer the clinic, I may stay simply because I am a lazy.

(By the way, we now have a baseball bat sitting in the corner by our back door.)

Let’s say you work for a nondescript, middle-of-the-road airline.

I will forgive you if you don’t look up when I address you at the counter before take-off. Forgive me, though, if I roll my eyes as I turn away.

And when I ask you for the second time if you would check to see if I can move from my middle seat to an aisle or window seat—because I didn’t hear your muffled reply the first time—and you cop an attitude… I’m mostly okay with that, too. Air travelers are so high maintenance!

Once we’re in the air, you promise headsets to watch the movie on the 3-hour flight. I think the cost is $5.

A few minutes later, you say that your operations folks forgot to put the headsets on the plane and that you’ll leave the movie on even if we can’t hear it.

I grouse for a minute or two, but then I say to myself, “Well, that’s today’s airlines.”

It’s no fun being in the middle of an C-plus organization. Or being near the top of one, for that matter.

Customer service is drudgery when your brand stands for nothing. And when you are only one of an army of nondescript workers trying to earn a decent living at an average company in an industry that is on its heels.

No doubt, it’s just a job. It pays the bills, maybe provides some insurance. You hope you don’t lose it.

Most of us don’t work for Under Armour or Apple or Google or some high-flying nonprofit creating entrepreneurs in Asian villages. We work for decent organizations, but dynamic or entrepreneurial they’re not. They’re not the leader in much or of much.

So how do you do “remarkable” work at merely a slightly above average place?

Many folks think that “when I find the right organization that is really going somewhere – then I’ll give it my all.”

But the old adage is true: Your organization cannot make your self. You must bring your self to the organization. That’s especially true in a C-plus firm. A C-plus organization needs its ordinary folks to attempt to make the honor roll.

Okay, now I sound like a aging motivational speaker with too much hair gel.

Even if you’re in a moribund setting, for executives and middle managers alike, you must learn to swim upstream. A leader always swims against the current, no matter what grade your organization gets.

You can start by looking your customer in the eyes when he asks for a window seat, even if you know already that the flight is full.

There is a new SARS virus: the Serious Assumptions Regarding Slang.

I am referring to the increasing use of the word guys in businesses across America. Throughout the service industry, from restaurants to airlines to retail sales, professionals commonly address their customers as guys.

Think about the time you last entered a restaurant:

You were probably greeted with, “How are you guys this evening?”

After you were seated, a server asked, “Can I offer you guys something to drink? Would you guys like anything else?” After paying the check: “I hope you guys will come back again soon.”

True, guys feels friendly; it’s a way people attempt to warm up to their customer. The problem is customers are not friends. In time, some might become friends. But it’s presumptuous to assume that upon your first encounter. Customer service is built on respect—forged through experience and acquired over time.

Notice the difference in each of the sentences when guys disappears:

• “How are you this evening?”
• “Can I offer you something to drink?”
• “Would you like anything else?”
• “I hope you will come back again soon”

The above demonstrates professionalism, respect, and courtesy.

Sometimes the variations of guys sound silly:

For example, at the end of a meal a waitress told our party, “I’ll get you guys’s check right away.”

Is guys’s a word? It was part of our waitress’ hackneyed lexicon. The impression she left didn’t match her intentions. Impressions last. Most of us would be hesitant to go into a client’s office and announce, “I have a new product to recommend to you guys.”

Nor would we report to the board of directors, “I have an announcement you guys will like.”

The specific words we use communicate volumes to those who hear us—and those we want to build lasting relationships with. Consider what messages you want to communicate to your customer, then choose the right vocabulary.

Is “guys” necessary, helpful, appropriate?

What do you guys think?

Dr. Parkinson is professor of TV and communications at Northwestern University and co-author of Becoming a Successful Manager.

To read the first part of this interview, click here.

The surest way to fail is trying to be all things to all people. You can’t stake out your brand with a mish-mash of promises and services.

According to Harry Beckwith, author of Selling the Invisible, and You, Inc, you can only be one thing—and there are eight positions of power an organization can choose from. In this follow-up interview, CZ President Dave Goetz asks Beckwith to differentiate the positions and how to pick one that can work for you:

Brand &Strategy: Are there a limited number of positions your organization can possibly have?

Harry Beckwith: I believe there are eight positions of power in any market—and you start by focusing on one:

• Pioneer/Leader vs. Innovator;
• Premium vs. Discount;
• Specialist vs. Generalist; and,
• Performer vs. Service.

What’s the difference between the Pioneer/Leader and the Innovator?

The industry leader is big and well established, whereas the innovator is small and less established. Industry leaders rely on an established image, like “good,” “solid,” or “consistent.” The innovator, on the other hand, can be riskier. Tired of the old way of doing things, they think and execute outside the box. Apple is an excellent example of this—coming in and going after IBM.

What about the difference between the Premium and Discount position?

It’s based on pricing. It’s the difference between Tiffany’s and Target. Regardless of how you’re positioning, you want to be aware of your pricing and what it communicates. But your pricing, in most cases, doesn’t drive your message.

The premium priced position is desirable in a lot of ways because it communicates your brand quickly. The consumer knows what they’re getting, and even if it’s a lot of money, there’s a sense of security in that.

Why is there security?

No one’s going to fire you for choosing the best. And if you’re the best, you’re the one chosen. Take McKinsey Consulting: They’re master of the universe and will come up with a hell of a solution for you—but it’s going to cost you a lot.

There are also arguments for choosing a low-priced brand: “I’ve only got so much money, but I can’t do it myself.” Or, “Yeah, they’re low priced, but they know more about it than we do. They can help us, and it won’t cost us a fortune.” Let’s face it, there’s always a market for the lowest priced web developer, if all you want is something that runs, and it doesn’t matter what the product looks like.

But generally speaking, the Discount provider is not among those stalwart positions.

Is there also a sense of security when you choose a Specialist over a Generalist?

Yes, because a jack-of-all-trades can’t be a master of one. You want somebody who is highly experienced and highly specialized. All other things being equal, the more they know about something, the more they work with it, the more proficient they probably will be.

If you have a detached retina, you don’t want a general M.D. You want a detached retina specialist! There’s a security that goes with that.

When it comes to choosing a Performance or Service position, what must organizations consider?

The Performer is not concerned about a touchy-feely experience but focused on high levels of performance.

On the other hand, the Service position is client-oriented. They may not offer brilliant solutions, but they provide valuable solutions along with a good experience. When organizations focus on service, clients experience a high degree of comfort.

Why then do people choose the Performer?

Because everybody wants the best. Sometimes all we really want is a positively good outcome.

What if the outcome is great but the experience is terrible?

Some people find that the outcome really wasn’t worth it. I think people consistently underestimate how much we value the experience—and how little we value the performance. Often it’s difficult for us even to tell if it was a great performance.

For example, you hire a contractor to redo your slate in your bathroom. You get six different people in to do it. Now, there could be some real differences, but really I don’t know who does the better job. However, I sure know who I felt better working with. If so-and-so screws up, I like working with him because I can tell him, and he’ll fix it—and fix it properly.

We tend to put on our rational hats that values cost-benefit and performance outcomes. In the process, we lose sight of the fact that we’re human beings who like to be respected, like to feel good, and like working with people we can trust.