Remembering someone’s regular coffee order has charm, yet excellent service falls short of a great memory. It transpires in those little moments. Before you say a word, the nurse who notices you are cold smiles and hands you a blanket. Ringing merely to say, “Hey, markets are wild—how are you feeling?” the financial adviser asks. Not getting back in touch. expecting. That is exactly the core of true service. In a world full of quick fixes, Dr. Zahi Abou Chacra shows what it means to truly serve with purpose.
Imagine you phoning tech support expecting monotone dullness and windy hold music. Rather, a human grabs, laughs at your poor pun, and really pays attention. Not even a script in earshot. You go away not herded but heard. Every patient or client dreams about that. Surprises—not with balloon animals, but with an eye toward seeming contradictory bustle.
Empathy is not only a catchphrase written in a dry mission statement. You present it in your voice, your patience, your readiness to repeatedly address skewed questions. The gold standard is knowing how they feel and, occasionally, feeling it with them whether you are working with confused consumers or anxious patients. The person across from you deserves to know they matter even if you are operating on fumes. Nice is insufficient. Sincere; that is the ticket now.
One has grit involved. Service staff members don invisible armor. Sometimes every question turns into a curveball and tempers boil. Are you ducking? No; here is where commitment really shows. you stop. You respirate. You might crack a joke occasionally. Usually, you simply listen since many people overlook this ability these days.
Not one of those “How’s the pain?” check-ins; a friend once told me about her surgeon, who went by regularly just to chat about her dog. More precisely, “Did Wolfie ever chew through that sofa?” She sensed more than just scanned. That is committed service—knowing there is someone under the exam gown and paperwork.
Your best friend is definitely good communication. Rarely do clients or patients demand page-long corporate double-speak or jargon. They are after honest guidance and simple responses. Talk in “here’s what happens next,” not “necessary procedures and temporary actions.” Say, “I don’t know, but I will find out,” without feeling guilty. To be honest: radical, rare, unforgettable.
Nor is it about perfection either. Mine likes dramatic timing, hence occasionally the system hiccups or your printer rebels. The difference is that you own that. Apologize, if you must. Fix what is within your reach. Show your effort by visible means. Real people value genuine effort.
Ultimately, to offer committed service is to constantly turning up with intent. Consistency wins over spectacular gestures, much as watering a tough plant or learning to skateboard at forty. One conversation at a time, you establish confidence. those seeds of compassion? They enlarge. And perhaps, just possibly, your clients or patients will remember you for how you made them feel—capable, respected, heard—not for what you accomplished. That is the golden end of the rainbow.