The art of service

Service.
Some people seem to think that it's a dirty word, somehow demeaning or beneath their perceived status in life.
Last week I had two very different experiences of service, and they affected me in very different ways.
On Monday I stopped for petrol on the way to work.  After paying, I returned to my car and found the nice young forecourt attendant had washed my windscreen for me.  I thanked him with a smile and got into my car.  Unfortunately our car has an intermittent fault with the immobiliser - it sometimes refuses to start if you switch it off and then try to start the car again in short succession (as at a petrol station).  The car wouldn't start. The forecourt was empty, and I asked the attendant if he would help me to push the car to the side, as it needs to be left for about 20 minutes before it will go again.  He is a young man, early twenties at the very most, and I am in my mid forties (dressed for business in high heels and a smart skirt).  He refused to help me as "it is an ACC risk and I might hurt my back".  So he left me to push the car on my own... and try to steer it as well.  The forecourt has a slight bump in it, so that fuel spills run toward the centre rather than onto the road, and try as I might, I could not get the car over the bump.  The forecourt was still deserted, and there was nobody to help me.  There was no point ringing the AA because they could not fix the problem - it  just needed time.  The forecourt attendant and the cashier just stood in the doorway to the shop and watched me struggle.
I gave up and locked the car, there in the middle of the forecourt.  I rang my husband, who walked from our house, collected the keys from me at work and drove the car home. He tried to ring the petrol station for an explanation of why I was left without any help, but the cashier lied to him (told him that the forecourt had been too busy for anyone to help me) and hung up.
I got to work late (I had had to walk there), frustrated and angry at the way I had been treated.
I won't be using that petrol station again, and on hearing my story, neither will a friend of mine whose fleet of vehicles usually spends $12000 a week there.
On Tuesday I flew to Auckland on business, and stayed at a hotel there near the airport.  The service there was impeccable.  Every single staff member I met greeted me, looking me in the eye, and was courteous.  They seemed to anticipate the needs of our group and nothing seemed to be too much trouble.  The hotel was very busy, but nobody seemed rushed, nothing was hurried and every little detail was taken care of.  Needless to say, I didn't ask them to push my car for me (!) but I got the feeling that if I had then it would have been done instantly, and probably valeted before it was returned to me.  I left a note for my housekeeping staff, thanking them for the care they had taken in making my room comfortable and clean each day, and I made sure that I thanked the front of house staff as I checked out, asking that my compliments be passed to the duty manager for the courteous attitude of all the staff.  The receptionist beamed as I spoke with her, and stood straighter behind her desk.
I left the hotel feeling refreshed (even after 3 long days of brainwork) and relaxed.
I would stay there again in an instant if I need to overnight in Auckland.

The level of service we give others is a true advert of ourselves and our philosophy in life.  Going the extra mile for somebody is one of the highest forms of caring we can do on a daily basis.  It shows a sensitivity to their needs and lets them know that they are important and valued.
The flipside of that is that people want to be around you if you show this level of attention to them, and they are inspired to do the same for you.  This is the kind of world I want to live in.  It just seems to be a better place.... and it all starts with how I treat other people.