When 'it happens,' own up to your own foibles

If you want to lose customers faster than Montezuma's Revenge can cause you to lose pounds, just say this: "Look, it happens."

The flight had been delayed by four hours because of "significant mechanical problems" so all 139 of us were elated and spiritually renewed ("Oh Lord, I will teach Sunday school if You just get us out of this thing.") when we finally touched down in Albuquerque. It had been a very long, trying night.

Now, there was only one other aviation challenge before slipping the ol' tootsies into those clean hotel sheets: the baggage claim.

You know where this is going, don't you?

Every bag, save for my own, slid down those polished aluminum slats into the grateful arms of its owner. With surprise and thanksgiving they, the lucky ones, gave praise for another aeronautic miracle. "Can you believe it, they didn't lose it?"

That mantra, sadly, was not mine. When the luggage merry-go-round stopped, so did my heart.

I had a presentation to make at 8 a.m. the next day and my clothes, overhead transparencies, notes and Geritol were in that bag. I was professionally naked.

With an effort at control and decorum, I went to the luggage desk fully expecting them to press some buttons and have the suitcase roll out of the back office. Because there was so much time between my flight from Minneapolis to St. Louis, and then St. Louis to Albuquerque, they must have sent it ahead early.

I have always been the dreamer.

The plastic place mat of luggage pictures was moved in front of me so that I could identify the mug shot of the lost loved one. The clicking of the computer keys spat out the bad news that by some foible of humanity my bag had been sent to Moline, Ill.

I stopped the bureaucratic banter with, "Before we go on, I want you to know how angry I am with the incompetence of this company. How can it happen that my clearly marked suitcase could end up in Moline?"

Here it comes stand back get ready to dial 911. The agent said with slippery condescension, "Doctor, it just happens."

Well, tornadoes happen, and some forms of cancer happen, and sunspots happen, and toe jam happens, but stupidity doesn't have to happen. It is inflicted.

I looked at this self-righteous wingman and said ... nothing. I was too angry. I did not trust myself. I was losing it. I was a dangerous person.

Indeed, stuff happens. There are circumstances that defy our ability to ascribe causality. In other words, there is no one or thing to blame.

On the other hand, when someone in your organization is stupid, indolent, irresponsible, noncommunicative or incompetent, that doesn't fall into the stuff-happens hopper.

This airline manager could not bring himself to say, "We failed you. You have been a loyal customer and we let you down. Your lost suitcase is our fault and we accept responsibility. How can we help you this evening to make your presentation tomorrow?"

But, what did I get?

"It happens, and we apologize for any inconvenience."

That statement was a robo-agent reciting a page from some customer service manual. I was actually more disappointed and angry about the unwillingness to accept responsibility than the absent suitcase.

This column is not an appeal for perfection