The Lost Art of Customer Service Shines at Sam's Place

It’s arguable that after 126 minutes at the DMV, customer service offered by any other business would sparkle in comparison.

But Vista Test Only Center in Pasadena positively gleams. Sam, whose full name is Sisak Keshishyan, has restored my faith that business owners really can care about you.

I was grumpy, hungry and red-faced when I recently trudged through triple-digit temperatures into the smog test place at 2655 E. Colorado Blvd. in Pasadena. In fact, when Sam handed me a frosty bottle of water, I thought it was a mirage. I happily accepted, knowing my wallet was devoid of cash, and figured he could just add it onto the bill.

There was, of course, no extra charge.

“My father always say, ‘Life is short, be nice,’’’ he said, popping the hood of my car and assuring me the inspection would only take 10 minutes. But with air conditioning, free WiFi and cold bottles of water, I had no desire to be anywhere else.

Except maybe the bathroom, which he pointed out was located behind his desk. On top of his desk sat hundreds of crystals carefully sorted by size and color. Not a wrench or lug nut in sight. What does a mechanic need with jewels and crystals, I asked?

“I make chandeliers,’’ he said, as his grease-blotted hands reached for a three-ring binder. Inside were pages of lamps, all shapes and sizes, and chandeliers that illuminated entire living rooms. His favorite, Sam said, was the Christmas tree chandelier he designed for folks who wanted something a little bigger and a lot brighter.

Still awed by his unique talent, I again dropped my jaw when he rounded the corner with a plate of raisins and an apple, cut like a flower.

“Those are Fresno raisins,’’ he said, making no mention of the fruit’s artistry.

Just when I wondered if Sam heaped the same kind of attention on his male customers, Eric Purdy walked in needing a smog check. Immediately Sam handed the sweaty Purdy a chilled bottle of water and, to his two-and-a-half-year-old son, Luke, an apple carved identically to mine. I asked Purdy if he’d ever been to Sam’s business before.

“No. He came highly recommended by my neighbor. This is great,’’ he said, noting he’d never received this kind of treatment from a business, let alone a smog check place.

After Sam finished the work and wrote my bill, I packed up my computer and readied to toss it in the back seat. That’s when I noticed the sealed package of Fresno raisins. He enjoyed my enjoyment of the shriveled grapes, and wanted to send me home with some. I turned to politely decline, feeling badly that I couldn’t pay him for the raisins, when Sam handed me a nightlight he made. I wasn’t sure if the brass outline was a heart, a spade or an apple, but, like my Grandma who never let me leave her home empty handed, Sam insisted that I take it.

“It’s good for reading,’’ he said. “And you remember me.’’

Trust me, Sam, I don’t need a lamp to remember the kind of light you give out. But I love it — and, sure enough, it illuminates beautifully. 

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