I’ve been a Spectrum customer for years. Recently, seeing another offer for new customers, I found myself wondering: what does staying earn you?
I thought about the years of paying on time. The quiet consistency of choosing the same company, month after month. Somehow, the person they haven’t earned yet seems to receive more attention than the person they’ve already kept.
As someone who loves marketing, I understand the pursuit. As someone building a business, I think about the people who made that building possible. I want them to feel my gratitude in the way I serve them.
Then my thoughts turned to the people closest to us.
How often do we become so certain someone will be there that we stop considering what it feels like to stay?
In a marriage, it can happen quietly. We save a story for someone outside the home, then give our spouse the shortest version of our day. We find patience for a new acquaintance, then offer the person beside us whatever patience remains.
The person who keeps showing up slowly receives less of the very things that made them want to be there.
That possibility gives me pause.
I never want someone’s faithfulness to become my excuse for giving them less. I want to keep asking questions, keep listening closely, keep making room for the person they are becoming. Years together should give us more to discover.
Because sometimes, only when someone leaves do we find the words, the time, the willingness.
The offers improve. The effort returns.
And I keep coming back to the same question: how much hurt could have been spared if that care had arrived while they were still there?
I want to remember this in the businesses I build and the relationships I nurture. To let people feel their value through the way I treat them, while we still have the ordinary gift of another day together.
Their loyalty should deepen my care, never diminish my effort.
I thought about the years of paying on time. The quiet consistency of choosing the same company, month after month. Somehow, the person they haven’t earned yet seems to receive more attention than the person they’ve already kept.
As someone who loves marketing, I understand the pursuit. As someone building a business, I think about the people who made that building possible. I want them to feel my gratitude in the way I serve them.
Then my thoughts turned to the people closest to us.
How often do we become so certain someone will be there that we stop considering what it feels like to stay?
In a marriage, it can happen quietly. We save a story for someone outside the home, then give our spouse the shortest version of our day. We find patience for a new acquaintance, then offer the person beside us whatever patience remains.
The person who keeps showing up slowly receives less of the very things that made them want to be there.
That possibility gives me pause.
I never want someone’s faithfulness to become my excuse for giving them less. I want to keep asking questions, keep listening closely, keep making room for the person they are becoming. Years together should give us more to discover.
Because sometimes, only when someone leaves do we find the words, the time, the willingness.
The offers improve. The effort returns.
And I keep coming back to the same question: how much hurt could have been spared if that care had arrived while they were still there?
I want to remember this in the businesses I build and the relationships I nurture. To let people feel their value through the way I treat them, while we still have the ordinary gift of another day together.
Their loyalty should deepen my care, never diminish my effort.
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