A few days ago, I walked into a bookstore, and I was on a mission. I went there to buy a specific book, so I walked straight up to the help counter and asked specifically for it. My sources told me that it was one of those books that a bookstore would have in stock at any given time.

The nice woman behind the counter looked exactly like the stereotypical woman-working-in-a-bookstore. She was quiet, mousey, and wearing glasses with a delicate gold chain attached to them. She timidly typed the title into her ancient computer, clicked through a couple of screens, and then furrowed her brow.

“I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t carry this book.”

I inquired if the North location of the same store had it in stock. “No, actually, it appears that we don’t carry it in our stores at all. But I can order it and it’ll be here in a week or so.”

I had no interest in waiting that long. Particularly if I had to physically return to pick it up, which would be a pain, seeing as how I don’t have a car.

The next morning, I tried my luck at a different bookstore in town. Except that I had learned my lesson, and called first to see if they had it before I went. The friendly woman who answered, quickly ran the title through their inventory system, before apologizing to me. “I’m sorry, we’re sold out.”

The result was the same. I still didn’t have a copy of the book. But each instance of customer service had a completely different effect.

The first interaction left me with the distinct impression that the store couldn’t possibly be doing very well. For them to not carry a book like this reflected ominously on their business.

However, the second interaction made me feel as if business was good. So good, in fact, that hey were sold out, because this book was flying off the shelves faster than they could keep it stocked.

I’ve written before about the the nuances of service. This is a prime example of how customer service can make an enormous difference in the purchasing experience. Because the first interaction was actually at Barnes & Nobles, in one of its typically large and sprawling locations. Although B&N might be feeling some effects from the economy, as everybody is, I think it’s probably still doing fine as a whole.

Yet the second interaction was a small bookstore on a corner of campus called Intellectual Property. Even though it’s owned by Folsom’s, I’ve been of the staunch opinion that it’s been doomed from the beginning. And I was right, because it recently announced its going-out-of-business sale and it’s only a matter of time now before they permanently close their doors.

I once read the introduction to a sales-y type book, in which it talked about how one teeny, tiny, seemingly insignificant alteration to the scripting of infomercials was responsible for unbelievably huge increases in profits.

The change was this. They would display the 1-800 number on the bottom of the screen like normal, but instead of simply stating that there would be attendants standing by for their call, they added a short sentence: “Keep calling if the line is busy.”

This additional phrase seemed to unlock a part of people’s brains that suggested other people were also calling to buy this product. In masses. And this translates into some sort of primal need for approval from the herd. Meaning it validated their desire for the product by suggesting that a lot of other people also wanted it, and thus, drove them to call, and feel relieved and successful when somebody answered to take their credit card information.

And suddenly, sales were, literally and figuratively, off the hook.

Anyway, luckily for me, Amazon had the book I wanted in stock. It was delivered it straight to my door via next-day air. Now that’s good service.