Every interaction is a chance to cement brand loyalty…or completely piss it away.

About a year ago, a friend emailed me a link to a company’s home page, along with a note that said, “Hey Jenn, isn’t this you?” I clicked, and sure enough, there I was front and center, shopping for ceramics in the company’s flagship store. Which would have been fine and dandy had the company asked for my permission to use the image. As it was, I didn’t even know I’d been photographed.

Here’s where the cautionary tale begins. I happened to be a huge fan of this company whose name I’m ever-so-awkwardly excluding for reasons that will become obvious. So instead of freaking out about the intrusion, I wrote them an email just a few smooches shy a love letter. Literally. Here was my opening:

First off, I have to say, I love [your company]. Thanks for being awesome.

I explained the photo situation and continued.

I remember shopping at [your store] that day. I got some gorgeous stuff for a shoot I was producing. But I don’t recall a photographer being there, and nobody asked whether or not it was cool to use my photo. That made me feel kind of weird. It’s a great shot and everything. I love it. And I’m certainly not asking to have it taken down. But I do kinda wish you’d asked if it was cool to post, you know?
See that? I just handed the brand a golden ticket to my heart. I wasn’t looking for a free set of mugs. I simply wanted them to love me back.

I got a reply the next day:

We received your email below and wanted to reach out. We have a photographer who shoots very casually. This shot was not supposed to have people in it. The shot happened more or less by accident, and when we saw it, we liked it and it was an oversight that there was someone in the shot that we did not know, so we appreciate you letting us know.

We are sorry for this oversight and we can take down the photo immediately, or we would be thrilled if we could have your permission to use the photograph. Please let us know!

Have you ever said “I love you” and heard an awkward silence in return?

As a fan of the brand, I was sorely disappointed. As a brand strategist, I was utterly perplexed. I lobbed a softball of brand love right over their hand-crafted, ridiculously expensive plate. Invite me back to the store! Buy me a freakin’ cappuccino! Offer me a discount! Something. Anything.

So I changed my mind and asked to have the image taken down. I went from being a super fan to being super cranky in the space of a single email.

Now compare this to my recent experience with the fledgling clothing brand, Wildfang. The first time I placed an order with them, I found a hand-written thank you note inside the shipping box. The second time, I received a note that referenced my first order, suggesting that the pants from order #1 would look fantastic with the boots from order #2. (OMG! They, like, totally know me! And they love me back!)

My latest Wildfang order came with this note:

You’d better believe I tweeted that sh*t. Now I sing Wildfang’s praises every chance I get.

Good people of corporate America: Your brand is not the responsibility of your marketing department. This fragile, priceless thing is the shared charge of everyone you employ — the people in your call center, the checkers on the line, and the workers who pack your boxes. Every interaction, no matter how small, offers a chance to express who you are and win a customer’s loyalty.

What I’m saying here isn’t news. So why is it so delightfully surprising to have a brand act like Wildfang, and so depressingly common to feel taken for granted by everyone else?