I swear by ice because, really, when is a drink not made better by being colder. And if you were going to say coffee or cappuccinos, sorry friend but Tim Horton’s has made those better too by adding ice.

Everyone should use ice and I think I can make a pretty convincing argument that anyone who doesn’t use ice on a regular basis is lazy. Yep, I used the L-word. If you don’t use ice then you are most likely a pretty lazy person. I won’t say useless because perhaps you are still contributing something to society with your iceless ways but I can bet that in a pinch you’d be hard-pressed to tell me what that was.

See, ice is great but it requires work as well and those lacking in dedication or a strong Protestant work ethic are least likely to find value in frozen water. These people are wrong and, like I said, simply lazy. Ice, by definition, is frozen and so some regular ice cube tray maintenance is required. You need to fill up that tray, you need to freeze it, and when you use all the ice in the tray, you need to replenish it. I find that for half-hearted ice users—the borderline lazy—the last step is the most difficult but I’d prefer frozen water to frozen air, thank you very much, so don’t put that tray back empty.

So ice requires work which is an immediate turn-off for the lazies among us. Ice is also a work out. Studies have shown that the body is actually forced to do work when drinking colder beverages. Through some process known only to scientists, and certainly not to me, the body has to actually heat up cold beverages in order to process them. So the consumption of cold drinks, cooled via ice, is actually a lot like exercise. What an easy way to shed those pounds! Another reason, of course, that those who do not understand or utilize ice on a regular basis are most likely exercise-hating lazy slugs. I rest my case.

Truly then, unless you hate doing work—in which case you are contributing nothing to society—or hate exercising—in which case you are a lazy bag of bones—then you have no excuse to not love ice. Ice is simply great.

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Just getting there was a pretty intense experience. Since flights out were about $600 cheaper flying out of the States than out of Canada, I bummed a ride off my parents to the airport in Buffalo, New York. It wasn’t a early morning flight, but I had been up late the night before, scrambling to copy DVDs and CDs to add to a collection I had been creating for Maria, and to do some last minute packing. I didn’t get much sleep, so even an early afternoon flight out, after the long drive from my parent’s house in Newmarket, I was already beat by the time I got to the airport.

After surrendering a jar of Nutella which somehow snuck into my carry-on suitcase, I said goodbye to my parents and weaved my way through customs, security, and found my departure gate. The afternoon before had been the finale for the Euro Cup and I’d been avoiding spoilers at all costs. This was an era largely before streaming live video and Twitter updates so it wasn’t too difficult to do. Instead of watching the match live I’d downloaded it onto my iPod Touch. Once I settled in at my gate I watched the game.

It felt strange to be going some place so new, and for such a long period of time. I was leaving North America for South Africa. My then girlfriend, now wife, Maria, was volunteering with a tiny organization outside of Durban. She had left shortly after she graduated from school, in May, and it was now July. She was to be there for a total of six months and my visit, a mere six weeks long, would hopefully split things up for her and give me a chance to see what life is like for her across the Atlantic.

Only a month earlier, I had graduated from Teacher’s College at the University of Western Ontario. In a whirlwind tour I’d moved—with the help of my parents, again—from London back to Newmarket for the summer, collecting some things from Kitchener-Waterloo on the way, and then to South Africa shortly after.

The flight to South Africa began at Dulles International Airport in Washington, D.C. but first I needed to get there from Buffalo. A short, forgettable trip would take me there, where I landed at an unmistakably American airport. Washington, the capital. As I wandered the vast corridors and terminals to find my gate I couldn’t help but lose myself, just a little bit, in all the national pride. Aimed, I guess, at the airport tourist, were flags and t-shirts, buttons and pins, stickers, mousepads, and temporary tattoos—so much America. But alongside the George W. Bush and I Heart NY shirts—yes, in Washington!—was the face of a young-ish black man, Barack Obama, who was making a long-shot bid for the Presidency at the time.

And then my plane finally came. I don’t know planes well, but this one was massive. A South African Airways jet staffed by strangers with even stranger accents. Indeed, when the voice of the pilot came over the address system I could barely follow a single thing he said. I thought to myself, what am I doing? Where am I going? But language, or rather accent, barriers aside, I was excited more than anything else and this is something I have a hard time describing. Maybe you know, if you’ve ever traveled some place strange to visit someone that you love. It was a feeling totally unlike traveling to see Maria at her apartment in Waterloo, say. It was totally different from the feeling of traveling to see her in Sarnia, at her parents house. Even different from the feeling I got when I first made that trip, before we were dating, when I barely knew her at all. It was an all together different feeling traveling across the ocean, eighteen hours, to see her in such a brand new environment.

As we flew, all through the night, over the Atlantic ocean and then over an incredible swatch of the continent of Africa I tried to take some notes. Written in tiny little snatches, I can barely understand what I meant looking back now, two years later. The trip on the airplane was surreal, to put it lightly. Nevermind the feeling of expectancy, the excitement over seeing Maria when I finally landed, the whole thing was just so new, so strange, that it all carried with it a heavy aroma of immediacy. This was happening now.

Things like the cabin darkening for “nighttime” even though no one, nobody at all, had any clue what time it was supposed to be. This artificial night was punctuated by artificial meals as well. As we flew across international timelines nobody really knew when to eat, or even if they were hungry. It was odd. So we ate when food came onto our plates. On the flight back from Johannesburg, many weeks later, I would make the mistake of sleeping through a major meal-time and when I landed in Dulles, and then Buffalo International I would be absolutely famished, nearly faint. But on the flight there, I ate and ate and ate. Whenever the trolley rolled by I figured I must’ve been hungry, and so I ate. And as the hours stretched and stretched upwards to eighteen I got the sense that we’d be up there, in the air, forever.

My notes reveal an interesting assortment of characters, faintly remembered in my memory, and vaguely familiar. An aid worker, the MCC sort, traveling by herself with handbags and carry-ons spilling over onto the empty seats around her, headed to some tiny corner of the continent. A group of burly bikers, tattooed and rough around the edges, from somewhere in the deep Southern States and headed to South Africa for a hunting safari as casually as one would head out into the backyard. By the time we hit ten hours in they were drunk, and loud, boasting of killing lions and tigers and, oh my.

My notes talk about people curled up on seats, crunched between arm rests, and the elderly couple across the aisle, flipping through the on-flight magazine with the precision of a team of rowers. Flip, read, flip, read. And of course there was the man who passed out somewhere over West Africa. I was awoke, then, to screams from a few seats back and the hustle of stewardesses and then the call for a doctor. He wasn’t breathing, I heard, as I drifted in and out of my own consciousness—maybe he’s just tired too, I thought. The next morning, and the next day, explaining the whole thing to Maria I wasn’t unconvinced that it was merely a dream.

When we finally landed in Johannesburg, a couple hours behind schedule, I was thrilled to find that my connecting flight to Durban left in about half an hour from a terminal somewhere across the airport. What began then was the scramble of my life. Picking up my suitcase, racing through the dangerous underground parking lot in the middle of the night and catching an airport bus to the appropriate terminal and gate. Intervening then was an older Indian couple who were surely angels under guise. They spoke barely a word of English but, like me, were desperately trying to find the same connecting flight. Together we made the hasty pilgrimage across the airport and ended up seat in the same row when we finally found the plane. A collective sigh of relief. Smiles, in place of language.

When I finally landed in Durban it seemed like it had been weeks since I’d left my parent’s house in Newmarket. After collecting my bags and navigating the confusing Durban airport to find my ride, my girlfriend—a beautiful sight for sore and tired eyes—and to hopefully find a decent bed soon there afterwards. I can remember the elation beyond words at dragging my luggage through the automatic doors and seeing Maria’s face. In my sorry, smelly state of sweaty airplane sleep, I got the first great big hug that I’d had in months, and it was wonderful. I had arrived.

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I’ll surely be hung for this but allow me to outline why I think the Oranje will take it all the way to the end of this year’s FIFA World Cup.

Heading into the tournament the Netherlands were ranked #4 in the world of international soccer. Ahead of them? Brazil, Spain and Portugal (in that order). How have these teams, ranked better than the Netherlands, performed?

Brazil, despite controlling the ball pretty well in both of its matches, conceded a goal by North Korea. Once they warmed up they did a number on Ivory Coast but certainly not a victory worth making a huge fuss over. They’re playing well, I’ll grant them that, but they’re goal against by North Korea proves that they’re not unbeatable—and certainly not unstoppable.

Spain, reigning Euro Cup champions, conceded a victory against Switzerland, not exactly a powerhouse soccer nation. They then went on to beat Honduras, but anyone could beat Honduras—no offense guys. Despite being favourites at the beginning of the tournament, like France and Italy, Spain aren’t the hot shots they were a couple of years ago.

Portugal, oh Portugal, you’re ranked #3 in the world and you played to a scoreless draw against Ivory Coast? What are they ranked? 27? So you beat North Korea 7-0, so you’re better than Brazil because you didn’t let in a goal, you still see more diving in a Portuguese soccer match than you do during the Summer Olympics.

Oh, and do you know who is ranked #5 behind the Dutch? Italy. Ha!

All this to say that within the top group of teams at the 2010 FIFA World Cup the Netherlands are the only team who has yet to flop their performance. In fact they’re unbeaten now in 22 international games; they’ve won 17 of those and drawn the others. And other than Argentina, they’re the only team so far to win all of their World Cup matches. The Dutch are going all the way because they’re working hard and aren’t flopping it like the rest of the competition. If the same continues to hold true, and if they continue to step up their play to meet their competitors (as they’ve been doing so far), I’m certain we’ll see them through to the very end.

If anybody, Argentina might be a threat; they’re playing great, but if anything we’ll see a Netherlands vs. Argentina finish and, of course, the Dutch will win. Of this, I’m sure.

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With some of the windfall from our October wedding, Maria and I brought a dish rack from simplehuman. This brand, which I haven’t really heard of before, seemed to be pretty prolific in many of the houseware chains that we visited. All of their products whether it was trash cans (which we also bought), storage units, kitchen tools or, in our case, dish racks, were priced fairly steeply but we figured that the mantra you get what you pay for might be true. So we bought a dish rack, an expensive one, and we were pretty satisfied with our purchase. At our house the job of doing the dishes is mine—Maria does the laundry—and this dish rack had everything I could’ve ever wanted. It was spacious, sturdy, fit dishes and cups of all sizes perfectly and even had a place to hang two extra glasses off the side and a slot designated for cutting boards or baking sheets. This dish rack was amazing.

But then it started to leak.

Occasionally, when I’d washed dishes some water would dribble out, from the side opposite to where it was supposed to drain. I was regularly wiping up water off the counter.

We were busy and so I let it go for a long while but eventually it began to leak pretty consistently and I decided to do something about it. And here’s an example of amazing customer service. I e-mailed the customer service address on the simplehuman website and tried to explain my problem. It was a bit difficult because my problem wasn’t so clear. The dish rack was leaking but it wasn’t so easy to explain from where, or how, without a picture or a video but I did my best. Only a few days later came my reply. I was told, unequivocally, that it sounded like there was a problem with my dish rack’s drip tray and a new one would be sent to me immediately. Not even a question or hesitation about it—I could’ve been making up the whole thing. But this is great customer service, and I was honestly surprised.

I was even more surprised when a giant box containing a new drip tray and tons of packing materials to keep it safe arrived via UPS two days later. Not only had simplehuman rectified my problem without so much as a questioning glance, they sent me the replacement part within a couple of days using a priority shipping company instead of the regular mail. And, they had packed it in an unnecessarily giant box so that it wouldn’t get damaged or broken during the ship. They’d covered all their bases.

This article series has been all about lessons, so what are the lessons here?

In the my previous two articles the lessons have been obvious: provide good customer service, admit and fix your mistakes, and you’ll see customers return and reputations repaired. The lesson I learned with my simplehuman experience is, ironically, simple as well. Good customer service counts. This company went out of its way to provide excellent service and, in the future, I’ll definitely buy their products. They didn’t even question the problem I was having with my dish rack. They shipped me a replacement/repair in a heartbeat. They impressed me and how important is that in customer service?

It’s simple: if you back an expensive product with good customer service then you’ll keep customers coming, people will be willing to buy at a higher cost if that product is backed by a good reputation. You treat your customers right and you gain more of a following, you gain a good reputation. You don’t, and you lose out in the end. It’s amazing when you think about the customer service I received after buying a car and the service I received after buying a dish rack—it’s clear who the winners and losers are, eh?

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I switched from primarily using an electric razor to a manual one a few years ago after finding that my face was constantly irritating—and shaving was no fun. I guess I have sort of sensitive skin and dry running an electric razor over it was an unpleasant experience bordering on painful, at times. So I switched to manual and with the shaving cream and all that it became a pretty enjoyable experience to shave a couple times a week. But there was still something left to be desired.

I got a Badger Hair Shaving Brush and a bowl of shaving soap for Christmas last year and this, for me, has truly capped off the whole shaving experience.

I didn’t know what kind of difference it would make from using my fingers to rub shaving cream around on my face versus using a brush but, let me tell you, the difference is worth the switch. There’s just such a pleasant feeling of having a warm gentle brush lathering on the shaving soap versus your boring old fingers. Not to mention the brush helps to open up pores on your face to make for a better and closer shave—and it shows. Using the brush, I get a much more comfortable and enjoyable shave, plus a closer shave and I find that with the brush there’s much more control over how much shaving cream I use and where it goes.

And there’s something to be said for shaving soap, too. The kind that I’ve been using since December is very natural and seems to last a really long time. It’s enjoyable even just to lather up the soap in the bowl. It all feels so much more natural and organic versus something that comes shooting out of a cold can.

If you’re on the fence, just try it. Now that I’ve tried it, shaving with a badger hair brush is definitely something that I swear by.

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So the World Cup is a mere 9 days 10 hours and 44 minutes away and I am a little bit excited.

Last World Cup I was stuck cheering for England’s half-baked football team because of my cursed heritage, but this year things are different. This year I’m married to a Dutch girl. So the tables are turned, and I’m cheering for the Oranje this time around and it’s going to be a much better World Cup.

But here’s my dilemma. You see, last World Cup I desired more than anything to buy an England team jersey. One of the official FIFA jerseys that the players wear because, if you’re honest with yourself, you will see that these shirts are things of beauty. Really, they are—they’re very nicely designed and put together. Well this time around, that desire is similarly strong but directed at my new and forever team: the Netherlands national football team.

So I bought a Netherlands jersey and it cost me and arm and a leg but I swore I’d use my birthday money to pay for it—just have to wait until October to pay off that debt. But, hey, it’s the World Cup. Anything is possible. My dilemma though, the one which I referred to earlier, is one of practicality. If you’re unfamiliar with the sport of soccer football then you might not know that the Dutch national colour is bright stinkin’ orange. It’s an awesome colour and looks wicked cool on the field, but is it a practical colour to own? My beautiful wife, for example, despite being Dutch hates it and may or may not go out in public with me while I’m wearing the jersey. She is a traitor to her homeland but that’s besides the point.

The thing is, I can buy the Dutch Away jersey which is white with stripes the colours of the Dutch flag but it’s hardly the same thing. I mean, it’s still a Dutch jersey and it’s much more practically coloured for more regular daily use and wearability but it isn’t the Oranje! Is it?

Dear Blogosphere, please weigh in with your advice. Is my homeland-hating wife right and the orange is just too much, a waste of my hardly-earned future money? Or is it silly to buy a Dutch jersey that isn’t in their traditional, well-known and well-loved bright orange? Help me, dear readers, you’re my only hope.

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It’s like a little tea pot that you fill up with a saline solution and stick in your nose. This, my friends, is the neti pot.

If you’ve never heard of it before then you must not watch Oprah. For the record, I don’t watch Oprah, but heard about this wonderful instrument from someone that does. The neti pot is something that I absolutely swear by for relief from allergies and nasal congestion.

It works by adding a bit of salt and some warm water, tilting your head, and pouring the solution into one nostril. The result is the water flowing through your nasal cavity and out the other nostril. Then you switch nostrils and repeat. The whole process flushes out lots of stuff from your nose and clears you right up. In allergy season, the neti pot helps to flush out allergens before they have a chance to build up and disrupt your otherwise peaceful existence.

I swear by the neti pot because it works, but it takes a lot of work. During the winter months I use the neti pot at least once a day. I find this helps fight off colds. If I get a cold, I’ll use it twice a day or more because it’s great at flushing out congestion. Sounds awesome, eh? During allergy season I use the neti pot twice a day, in the morning and at night, and the results have been incredible. While in University, I used to get allergy shots because my allergies were pretty bad. Since I started using the neti pot—for the past two summers—I haven’t got shots and haven’t had a lot of problems with my allergies either. The neti pot flushes everything out.

I know it’s weird and kind of gross, but it’s something that I swear by. The neti pot works as long as you’re willing to commit to it; it’s not a one-off solution you have to stick with it. If you do get a neti pot there are a slew of helpful videos on YouTube to guide you through the process. You could also take a look at them if you’re curious to see what kind of weirdos use this thing.

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CBC Radio One

I can’t remember precisely when I began listening to CBC Radio 1 but it must’ve been sometime in late high school or early university. I was actually first turned on to talk radio through NewsTalk 1010, a Toronto station, on the AM dial. A certain show host named Michael Coren won my heart with his dry sense of humour, his love for politics and his tendency towards controversy. I became a frequent listener for a while. From AM I jumped to FM and discovered our commercial-free national broadcast radio CBC Radio One. I have lived there ever since.

I’m not a big radio guy, in the traditional sense. When I say I live at CBC Radio 1 I mean that the presets in our car are set only to Radio 1—the 4 different frequencies that we find ourselves using as we travel around. I only listen to Radio 1. No other stations. I’m not big into regular radio stations because I don’t care for the music or the material, and all the commercials can be nauseating. CBC Radio 1 is commercial-free, worthwhile and interesting.

While there are a few shows that I don’t much care for on the CBC, most of its programming is engaging and entertaining. From our national science show Quirks & Quarks, to Stuart Maclean’s Vinyl Cafe, or Metro Morning as I’m driving to work. It’s good stuff, good radio, and it’s such a joy to listen to. There is always an interesting interview or story or song and it’s informative. CBC Radio’s journalistic consistency is something that it’s been praised and award for again and again. It’s reliable news and information and shows like The Current and As it Happens go behind and beneath the headlines to dig deeper—something that we’re in desperate need of.

What’s more, CBC Radio is on the cutting edge of new technology. They were among the first stations to be available online, to have podcast feeds, and now to have an iPhone/iPod Touch application enabling listening through WiFi or anywhere if you’ve got a data plan. I think it’s safe to say that among wonderful gems of Canadian media, our national radio broadcaster is certainly among the top. At least, it’s something that I swear by.

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Wanting to try and save money, as well as shop locally, Maria and I decided to book our Honeymoon through a local travel agent when we went last year. We chose Goliger’s Travel, a little building just a few minutes away from where Maria was living at the time. At first, we had a good feeling about it. The agent who helped us out admitted that the kind of hiking/driving vacation that we wanted—staying at a bunch of different locations as we wound our way from Victoria to Vancouver—wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he could do, but he could certainly book our flight and car rental for us, and at a good rate too. Since we felt good about it, and wanted to book everything locally, we decided on a flight and car rental and went ahead.

It wouldn’t be until the day after our wedding, when we landed in Victoria and found ourselves in front of the Hertz rental kiosk that things began to get a bit grim.

Now as far as we knew, and were told—it was written in our contract—we had pay for all of our car rentals fee up front save the $50 fee for picking up the car in Victoria and dropping it off in Vancouver. The $50 was the only fee we should pay in B.C. We were told this several times and it was written, in black ink, on our copy of the contract we signed with our travel agent. So you can imagine my surprise, as a newly married gentleman (already a little surprised by life!), when I was told that I would have to pay an “age difference” fee which would total about $175 for the week. An age difference fee?

To my surprise, when quoting our car rental from Hertz, the staff at Goliger’s Travel in Waterloo had disclosed my age as 25, not 24 which I was at the time. This discrepancy in age resulted in my quote being much less than it was supposed to be, and the surprise age difference fee when we landed in Victoria. I was frustrated but like a good husband I took charge, paid the difference, and picked up our car. In reality, there was nothing that we could do. It was a Sunday, Goliger’s was closed, and we had already prepaid for most of the rental fee when we booked it. We didn’t really have a choice and even though I had my copy of the contract I signed with Goliger’s, the agent at Hertz had his hands tied: he had to charge me the fee, Goliger’s, he said, had made the mistake and I would have to take it up with them when we got back to Ontario.

Well, we had a great Honeymoon. The car served us well, especially in dropping us off at the head of a beautiful hiking trail upon which we got lost and nearly eaten by bears—only a few days into our married life, nonetheless. When we dropped the car off at Hertz in Vancouver I again inquired about the fee. The agent at the desk again explained that it was the fault of the travel agent, and it was with them that I’d have to take it up. She provided me with a detailed printout of the schedule of fees to help me and at this point I was even more surprised. In addition to the $175 age difference fee that was another $100+ in additional fees. A number of these fees were acronyms which I didn’t understand. One fee was a $60 “concierge” fee. According to Goliger’s Travel, and our written contract, all fees had been paid locally in Waterloo upon booking.

Once we returned to Kitchener and settled in I began to process of making things right with Goliger’s Travel. In my mind, we had been overcharged by $290 when all was said and done and it was money we never should’ve paid in the first place. We got our quote, we had our contract, and these charges were in breech of that. The mistake on Goliger’s part by misrepresenting my age was not a fault of my own, when Maria and I met with our agent I told him, “I’m 24. I’ll be 25 on Oct. 29th if that makes any difference.” He said it might, and that was the end of it. The quote, using my age as 25, was their mistake and I see no way around it. But they certainly did.

My first course of action was to call, which I did. I was told to come in and to show them all the paperwork and they’d see what they could do. I did that, too. I sat down and calmly explained the whole situation at which time they suggested that maybe Hertz would refund the money; after all, they said, I was only a couple of weeks shy of being 25. In my mind, this wasn’t the point, it wasn’t Hertz’ fault to begin with, but I let it be and let the travel agent work it out.

Over the course of twenty-two e-mails the situation went from bad, to worse, to unresolved in the end.

Their first instinct to blame the car rental company did not work. Hertz informed them that it was their policy and they couldn’t do anything about it. They in turn informed me of this. I know, I said, I know it’s their policy and I agree with that policy—my problem is that you gave them the wrong age. This back and forth continued for a while, me assuring Goliger’s that I had given them the right age, Goliger’s at times forgetting what I was complaining about, not writing back then assuring me it was my fault for not receiving their e-mails, and then mixing up the dollar amounts of my claim.

In the midst of all of this, sometime in the middle of November, an even more hilarious thing happened which served to me to illustrate just how backward this organization was to begin with. My credit card account was charged for the entire cost of our Honeymoon—the cost of our Honeymoon which we’d already paid for. Calls to Goliger’s and more e-mails, this time about a new issue, resulted in their realization that they’d charged me twice, by accident, and my card was refunded.

My pursuit to get back our rental overcharge finally came to a head sometime in December. With an e-mailed that ended in a cheery “Have a Happy Holidays!” I was informed by our travel agent that the mistake in age wasn’t their fault, but mine. I had given them the wrong age, she said, and it was my fault, they couldn’t do anything about it. I had had enough. I wrote back—using on e-mail at this point so as to leave a paper trail—and told them their response was inadequate and I was prepared to take additional steps if necessary to resolve the dispute. Ibegan looking into my options.

Unfortunately, my options were limited. A Small Claims case would cost more to put through the courts than I would end up receiving back if I won. A claim to the Better Business Bureau was impossible, as far as I could tell, because they weren’t registered. And the Travel Industry Council of Ontario, a body set up to protect against these kinds of things, was powerless because they couldn’t do anything in the face of “agent error”.

But Goliger’s wrote back, this time informing me that I needed to put my complaint in written form—a letter because e-mail wasn’t written enough—and send it to their “Complaints Department” which I assumed might just be a waste paper basket for all I knew.

In March, ending a saga which began in November, I finally received an e-mail from someone at Goliger’s Travel who had some answers. Sadly, the response was barely better than I’d received before. The travel agents involved, I was told, did everything that they could to attempt to resolve my complaint but unfortunately the car rental agency has their policies and I was charged the right amount according to my age at the time. Good grief, I thought, I knew that—that wasn’t my complaint! As an “act of goodwill” though, I was told that I would be sent a cheque for $100, a third of what I was claiming to be entitled too. I responded, told them that I was still not satisfied with them not taking ownership for their mistake, but would gladly take the $100. Better than nothing, I thought.

I did receive the $100 cheque in the mail. My hands were tied, so I cashed it. If I had other avenues to pursue, I would’ve, but my options were exhausted at this point. We’d been ripped off by a travel agency who refused to acknowledge their mistake and there wasn’t anything else that we could do about it. Except write about it, here.

Like my experience with Cambridge Toyota, the ordeal we went through with Goliger’s Travel illustrates some really simple things that a business could do—but in this case chose not to—to satisfy its customers. Have a little understanding and demonstrate some service. Here we are, a newly married couple, surrounded by lots of young friends who will all undoubtedly go on lots of trips in their lives. We are the target market for a local place like Goliger’s. Treated well, we would surely recommend their business to our friends, our families, and our colleagues—word of mouth is powerful. Instead, we’re soured by our experience. If I hear someone asking about a good travel agent I go out of my way to tell them to avoid Goliger’s. And we’ll certainly never go back. Instead of securing a patronage that could’ve lasted beyond 60 years—we’re young!—Goliger’s has compromised their market share and driven away potential customers in substantial numbers. No one we know, and no one that hears our story, will travel with Goliger’s, that’s for sure.

Again, I come back to this: How much would it have cost Goliger’s to make things right? To admit that the mistake was theirs and to take ownership? $287.12. How much have their lost in potential revenue as a result of their poor customer service? As a result of customers being driven away, and others not even giving them consideration? Well, we’ve booked at least one vacation since and not used Goliger’s, that was about $900 worth of potential revenue—and counting. It’s simple, common sense stuff, but it seems like no one in the service industry is paying attention to that. With all the choices out there—for mechanics, for travel agents, for coffee—my business, my patronage, is important and sometimes, when things go wrong, a company has to work to earn it. I feel like very few companies are putting in the effort these days, but maybe that’s just me.

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The rationale is this: we all have things in our lives that we depend upon, that we swear by. These are things: products, goods, services, routines, rituals, etc. that we’ve picked up somewhere along the way. They’ve become important to us, essential to us, and something that we couldn’t do without. I think we all have these things—we hear about them, or start doing them or using them, at the suggestion of a friend, a relative or a colleague… and they work. I thought it’d be fun to share a few of the things that I swear by, and maybe you can suggest some too.

Ricola

I first heard about Ricola from my wife, Maria, who knew about these wonderful cough drops from her aunt, a musician. Ricola are incredible. If you know nothing about them you might, at least, recall this commercial from the 90’s which featured two Swiss men alternately yelling, “Riiiiiiiicola!” and blowing into some kind of enormous horn. Does that ring any bells?

Ricola are cough drops made from all natural ingredients, some kind of mix of herbs found in the Swiss mountains, I gather, and they work great. As a teacher, I’m talking a lot so when I’m sick and have a sore throat it’s an absolute pain to try and teach. But Ricola are soothing and wonderful, and they taste good too. I personally can’t stand the menthol taste of Halls or the other alternatives but something like Ricola, which tastes pretty good and seems to be natural too, is really agreeable.

Out of all the stuff I’ve used for coughs and sore throats, Ricola is hands down the best. They’re natural. They taste good. And they work, tried and tested by musicians and teaches alike Ricola is something that I swear by.

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