"Riça! How are you feeling? Come right in. Sit down. Joe will be right with you. Meanwhile, can someone bring you a cup of tea?" That's how I was greeted when I arrived at Fitness Crossing (a fictitious name; FC for short) last year. I felt welcome and cared for - almost like part of the family. Had I been buying a whole raft of treadmills, or even a single machine, the staff and manager of this small Canadian-owned chain's Etobicoke outlet could not have treated me more warmly. And that alone, given the no-frills ambience and location, would have been a pleasant surprise.

What made this customer experience so extraordinary, though, was that I wasn't buying, or even considering buying, any exercise equipment. I wasn't there to put money into these nice people's pockets, much as I would love to have been able to do so. I was actually there to take money out of their pockets - to collect a refund. And there was no telling when, if ever, I'd be able to buy anything from them again.

Yet from the moment I walked in the door, I was treated as if I were one of their best customers. I felt valued and valuable. Let's look at what happened to make that so and what the results have been.

Background
Six months previously, I'd visited this store with a friend who wanted to buy a stair-stepping machine. Charmed by the staff's friendly, knowledgeable, yet low-pressure sales approach and excellent prices, I wound up buying a treadmill as a 47th-birthday present to myself. I spent more than $1600, while my friend dropped $400.

The treadmill I ordered that Sunday was scheduled to be delivered and set up the following Wednesday. As a lifelong non-athlete (my idea of exercise used to be pushing the elevator button twice!), I was genuinely looking forward to using the treadmill to improve my health and appearance.

Hiccup number one
Two days after buying the treadmill, completely out of the blue (unless you count the fact that I was 50 pounds overweight and way out of shape), I had what doctors think was probably a mini-stroke. I spent a terrified night in my local hospital's emergency department. Fortunately, there were no lingering effects from this experience. Unfortunately, though, the doctors couldn't figure out what had caused the scary symptoms. Until they could run some more tests, they advised me to take some precautions in case I had a brain aneurysm about to burst. In particular, they told me not to do any strenuous exercise or lift anything heavier than three pounds - which eliminated my cat and my purse! Needless to say, I called FC and asked them to hold off delivering my new treadmill until I knew what was happening with my body.

Months went by. Meanwhile, a battery of scans and other tests had proven inconclusive. Nobody knew why I'd suffered that mini-stroke. The doctors I consulted (even the second-opinion guy) all said that we might never know...unless it happened again.

After researching my risk factors for stroke, I realized that losing weight and increasing my fitness level would still be good ideas. I was just on the verge of calling FC to finally request delivery of that treadmill when another medical disaster hit.

Hiccup number two
During my annual physical, I learned that I had a growth in my abdomen. Only major surgery could tell us whether the thing was benign or not. If it wasn't I'd need chemo and possibly radiation. Even if it was benign, it would have to be removed, and I was looking at a recovery period of up to three months. By now, using that wretched treadmill was the furthest thing from my worried mind. I needed the money far more than I needed the machine.

The fine print and the exception
There was just one catch: my original invoice was clearly marked "No refunds." Having previously bought a rowing machine that turned out to be a great clothes hanger in my bedroom, I figured I knew the reason for this rule. The company clearly didn't want people returning fitness equipment just because they changed their mind about using it.

At this point, several friends encouraged me to speak to the store's manager anyway. "What have you got to lose?" they reasoned. "The worst they can say is no, in which case the treadmill would be delivered. You ought to be able to sell it for half the purchase price."

So one evening, I collected my courage and called. Joe, the young man who answered the phone, said that the manager wasn't there at the moment, but would be back in half an hour. Meanwhile, though, could Joe help me? So I told him my sad tale.

Joe was immediately reassuring and caring. He couldn't make any promises, of course, until he could talk with his manager. But he thought that since my circumstances were so unusual, an exception could probably be made. He took my name and number, and promised to call me with an answer by the end of his shift.

Forty-five minutes later, the manager himself - let's call him Pete - was on the phone. Pete couldn't have been nicer, and he said that there'd be no problem giving me a refund. The "rule" was printed on the invoices only to discourage abuse, he explained, not to cause someone in my predicament more stress.

I was in tears when I got off the phone. I couldn't believe how helpful these people had been. They were under no legal obligation to refund my money - but not only were they agreeing to do so, they were doing it with great graciousness and good cheer. But even their exceptional thoughtfulness and sensitivity on the phone didn't fully prepare me for the delights that awaited me when I showed up in person.

Join us next month when Riça explains what happened when she went to the store to get her refund and shares the many things that the company did right. You won't want to miss this one!

Riça Night provides editorial services (specializing in copyediting, proofreading, and indexing) to a wide variety of clients. The list of projects she has helped to improve now tops 500. Riça is also a sought-after seminar instructor and has led professional workshops since 1989. Meticulous, versatile, organized, diplomatic, and thorough, Riça is ready to help you with your project. You can reach Riça by email at edgewords@rogers.com.