That’s why I called Susan and made the decision to give her half of her money back.
“I’ll personally follow up in the morning to make sure those shoes arrive on time, okay? And if you have any issues with the sizes or anything, call me directly and I’ll send a UPS truck to pick up the returns at your home and overnight the new sizes as needed at no additional charge.”
“You’ll do all of that?”
“Yes, it’s my pleasure, Susan. And if I can help you with anything else, please don’t hesitate to call. Let me give you my direct line, and my email address . . .”
I made sure Susan knew how to get in touch with me, and she thanked me again, and I thanked her for choosing Zappos, and that was that. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Susan and her family. The moment I hung up the phone I ordered flowers to be shipped to her daughter the next day, along with a $100 gift certificate so she could buy herself something nice after all of this was over.
When I got home, I told my husband about the call. I kept talking about this woman and what she must be going through, and how awful it must be to see her daughter in pain, and I decided that I had come up a bit short on my phone call with her as well. I wanted to do something more, and I knew our company would do more. Susan and her daughter had called on Zappos to deliver in their time of need, and that is not something any company should take lightly.
As soon as I got to campus the next morning, I checked the computer, and I was happy to see that the shoes had been delivered. I glanced over at a picture of my dad on my desk, among a whole bunch of fun tchotchkes and little reminders that make my workspace so personal to me.
I picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Susan, it’s Teri from Zappos again.”
“Hi, Teri!”
“My computer is telling me that your shoes were delivered, but I just wanted to double-check that you got ’em.”
“They’re here! Thank you. And McKendree just received the beautiful roses you sent her, and that gift certificate. That was so incredibly thoughtful and generous, I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, I just wanted to do something a little extra. I didn’t mention this to you yesterday, but I lost my father to cancer a few months ago. So I know how hard it can be.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“But why the roses. How did you know?”
“Know what?” I asked.
“Luis used to send McKendree roses just like that when she was going through treatment.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I don’t know if you know this, but she and Luis met when they were in treatment.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“She’s in remission now. She’s doing great. But Luis used to send her roses just like that. Same color and everything. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. I ordered a bouquet and the florist must’ve put it together. I’m not sure. Wow.”
“Wow is right. I’m just so blown away by all of this. Thank you. And my daughter thanks you.”
Susan began to cry, and I started to tear up, too.
“Hold on,” she said, “let me put McKendree on the phone.”
A few seconds later, I was on the phone with McKendree, who was just about the sweetest teenager I’d ever spoken to. She also started crying, and then I was crying even more. She told me I’d made her whole day.
When she put her mom back on the phone, Susan thanked me again and reiterated that she was sorry to hear about my father’s passing.
“Thank you. He fought for a long, long time.”
“Well, he certainly raised a good daughter.”
That was when I paused. Her comment caught me off guard.
“I mean it,” she continued. “If there was a little more of this sort of kindness and caring in the world, the world would be a much better place now, wouldn’t it? Luis was that type of kind. He used to save toys all year long to take back to kids at the hospital in Honduras, where he was from, even while he was undergoing treatment. He would’ve loved to have seen McKendree’s face when those flowers came to the door. He must be grinning ear to ear up in heaven right now. I just can’t tell you what you’ve done for us today.”
“Well, it’s my pleasure,” I said. “Look, I know you must be busy getting ready for tomorrow, so I don’t want to keep you—”
“No, no, I’m a Southerner, and a mother. If there’s one thing I don’t mind doin’ it’s talkin’.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job it’s that people, not just from the South, but people everywhere, like to talk. And they especially like to be listened to—even when the person doing the listening is a stranger on the phone who happens to work for an online retailer.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job it’s that people everywhere like to talk. And they especially like to be listened to—even when the person doing the listening is a stranger on the phone.
“Well, okay, then. I do have a question for you, if you don’t mind. I’m just so curious: Why the red shoes?”
Susan’s voice soared as she told me the love story of McKendree and Luis, two teenagers who met at St. Jude Children’s Hospital in Memphis in the fall of 2011 while undergoing treatment for cancer. It was like their own private version of The Fault in Our Stars, the way this joyful young man brought a smile to McKendree’s face during the most trying time in her life, and the way Luis lit up at the joy and music McKendree brought to him. Together, they played guitar and sang to other kids on the second floor of the cancer ward at that hospital. They became best friends, and a fixture of happiness for other kids who were fighting for their lives, along with their families. Not to mention an inspiration to the doctors and nurses who worked so hard to save children every day.
Luis had already been fighting cancer for some time before McKendree came into his life. At one point, doctors were sure they were going to have to amputate his leg to stop the cancer. Luis was crushed. To lift his spirits, his parents scrimped and saved and managed to buy Luis a pair of red shoes that he coveted: a pair of red Lacoste sneakers that he’d spied in a shop window shortly after coming to America for his treatment. He wore them right up until the very last second before his scheduled surgery—and when he woke up in his hospital room after the surgery was completed, he looked down and saw both of his legs. The doctors didn’t have to amputate after all.
From that day forward, Luis loved to wear those red shoes. In fact, his wish was to go hang-gliding in his favorite red Lacoste sneakers—a wish he accomplished while wearing the biggest smile anyone had ever seen.
The thing about cancer is it doesn’t always show itself. Sometimes, what you see on the outside, the smile on someone’s face, doesn’t reveal what’s happening under the skin. In early February 2015, Luis’s health took a drastic turn for the worse. And with almost no warning at all, on Valentine’s Day, of all days, he died.
McKendree was devastated. Everyone was devastated.
Susan cried when she told me. I cried, too.
That was when she told me it was McKendree’s personal wish that she and all of their mutual friends who went through treatment together at St. Jude should wear red shoes to Luis’s funeral. That was why Susan