I've always loved Nordstrom

Since this has been a stellar news day for Nordstrom, I decided to go back into the Rotation and Balance archives—all the way to May 2010—and repost an experience I had with them that's forever made me an advocate for the store as well as a regular customer.

Of course, the reason they're in the news today is that they've decided not to continue their business relationship with Ivanka Trump, which means they won't be carrying her merchandise. The reason is because it wasn't selling. Ivanka's dad, the so-called president and liar-in-chief, thinks it was a political move against him.

Here's a little lesson in economics and American capitalism, just in case he's taking a tweet break and having someone read this to him: if it sells, it stays. Simple as that.

The decision wasn't political, but it did coincidentally align with my political leanings. So naturally I was happy about it.

Anyway, I've always loved Nordstrom's, and this post will tell you why. They're an extraordinary store when it comes to customer service. For example, if you bought Ivanka Trump merchandise in the past, I'm sure they'll let you return it with or without a receipt.

You're welcome. And please to enjoy.

There are things in this world I admit I'll never understand. How deep the ocean is. The vastness of the universe. My income tax forms. And why every store can't offer the same extraordinary level of customer service as Nordstrom.

There's such a thing as going the extra step, and then there's going above and beyond above and beyond. Which is exactly what Nordstom's did for me.

If you know me at all, you know I practically live in black shirts. Specifically lightweight, black corduroy shirts from Nordstrom. These magnificent shirts are incredibly comfortable and amazingly versatile. They're equally at home whether the occasion is formal or casual. They save me a lot of decision making when it comes to what I'm going to wear - kind of like Jeff Goldblum's closet filled with all the same outfits in The Fly. (Point of fact: I'm much more careful going through the transponder).

But I digress.

When I first saw these shirts, it was love. So I bought four of them, thinking that would be plenty to last me. But the years take their toll, and the shirts became threadbare, torn, and faded. I admit I took them for granted. I always thought I'd just be able to hop over to Nordstrom and get some more.

Come to find out that wasn't the case.

When I couldn't find them in the store, I went online. They weren't there either. So I sent an email to a Nordstrom customer service person who replied they no longer carried the shirts and weren't planning on getting them in. I asked if they could special order them, and the answer was a polite no.

Here's the thing - "no" is not an answer I'm fond of taking. I decided to take my case higher up the Nordstrom food chain.

I got the name of a senior management person - let's call him Dave - who I thought might be a good person to talk to. After explaining my situation in an email to him, he said he'd see what he could do and get back to me.

Not only did he get back to me, he got back with the answer I was hoping for.

He said even though they didn't stock the shirts, there was a person in their product development department - let's call her Annie - who could make it happen. Annie figured out that they had enough of the material to make four sample shirts. They'd be made at the sample shop instead of on the line, dyed black, hand-stitched, and they'd be just like the original shirts.

Except custom ordered, hand-made and mine.

So the shirts will arrive this week. I'm forever grateful to Dave for his responsiveness, and Annie for her extraordinary efforts to insure I got the merchandise I was looking for. And to both of them for demonstrating that genuine customer service does still exist.

When you see me wearing one, you may not know it's one of the shirts that Nordstrom hand-made for me.

Don't worry. I'll tell you.

Out of the closet

Mark Zuckerberg has had a couple of really good ideas in his young life.

One of them you might have heard about was creating this little social networking platform, where people you haven't heard from in 25 years can stalk you online, look at your personal pictures and make comments you don't care about and don't want to hear. It also lets friends in your outer, outer, outer circle remind you when their birthday is.

On the bright side, it lets you slam Donald Trump endlessly day and night, for which I'm deeply grateful.

His other great idea was his singular approach to his daily wardrobe. With the exception of weddings (his own), funerals (Steve Jobs) and dinners at the White House (Obama), Zuckerberg wears the same exact outfit every day of his life. The gray t-shirt, blue jeans, sneakers and dark gray sweatshirt with hoodie.

What Mark—may I call you Mark?—and I both love about this method is it removes the decision-making process about what to wear everyday, freeing up valuable brain space to ponder the more important choices in life.

For example, glazed or sprinkles.

Sartorially speaking, Zuckerberg's not the first person to stick to what works for him.

Steve Jobs was famous for his black turtlenecks, blue jeans and sneakers.

Albert Einstein had several versions of the same gray suit so he could think about more important matters relative to what he was going to wear (see what I did there?).

Jeff Goldblum's character Seth Brundle in The Fly also had a closet full of one outfit for the same reason (lot of good it did him after that little transporter incident).

I don't have a closet full of the same outfit, but I do have a lot of clothes working off the same color palette: black. Looking in my closet is like peering into a black hole, except mine is cedar-lined and filled with wire hangars and an overflowing bag of Damp Rid.

I know I've told this story before in a post, but it bears repeating here. The wife and I were in Seattle a few years ago and having dinner with an old boss of mine. We were running behind, and she called him to say we'd be a little late. To which he said, "What's the matter? Is Jeff having trouble deciding which black shirt to wear with which black pants?"

If I could wear the same black outfit every day I would. But I don't because I think it'd creep people out. They wouldn't know if I had a lot of the same outfit, or if I was actually wearing the same damn one every day.

The irony is Mark Zuckerberg can afford to buy all the clothes he wants, even have them custom made. He could buy 365 Armani suits to look sharp all year long. That's what I'd do.

I even know the color I'd get them in.