Sunday’s Column – The Handwritten Note
The other day I got a note from my dad.
It was, shall we say, old school. Not an email or text message, but rather a handwritten note. Many of the younger generation would not understand that format – or the point. Doesn’t that take more time and thought?
Exactly.
The note came after I sent him a copy of our birthday edition, which also featured a couple of stories about me. That in itself was a little embarrassing as I much prefer to be the interviewer rather than the interviewee.
His letter was one of those “proud of you son” kinds. The kind you save and tuck away somewhere, to be pulled out and reread when life seems impossible. I’m 51 years old, and that note from my dad impacted me as much as a pat on the back and “way to go” when I was seven and I scored a goal. Some things never change. We all want our father’s praise, regardless of our age.
It reminded me of the yellow card.
The yellow card is quite flimsy, a mere 4X6 postcard. And it is one of the most powerful pieces of paper I know of. And occasionally, one arrives at our mailbox.
It has the power to stop the SONS of Thunder dead in their tracks. And that, well, says a lot if you know the SONS.
The scene goes like this: I walk in the door with the mail. On top, there is a yellow card. And three pairs of eyes light up, stare at the card and then stare at me. And I call out a name.
And there is a big war whoop from the SON whose name is called. And there’s a drop of the head from the others. The recipient of said card will gloat for hours. Those rejected will mope.
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The card is from Championship Martial Arts, the karate school the SONS attend. And no, I don’t mind giving a plug. And that’s because the postcard is from an instructor who has taken the time to handwrite a sentence or two. In a nutshell, it’s an “atta-boy;” a “way to go.” And it’s not generic, but specifically addresses something – improvement on a kick; learning a new block, something.
The SONS keep every one of those cards. They are pinned on a corkboard in their rooms. I’m proud to say we have a lot of cards.
A simple postcard, handwritten. Mentally, it is as powerful as learning to break a cinder block. From a customer service standpoint, it is pure brilliance.
A few simple words. An acknowledgement, by, let’s face it, a business, of a job well done to a customer. It cost pennies. It cost a little time. It took a little thought. But it means the world to the SONS. And it impresses the heck out of yours truly footing the bill.
The power is in words – not round kicks or blows or breaking pieces of wood. Just words.
The power of the yellow card. Just words? Yeah, trying telling that to the SONS – or me.
Do you remember the last time you got a yellow card? More important, do you remember the last time you wrote one – friends, family, customers, associates?
What are you waiting for?