The same and not the same

A small abaya boutique in Jeddah depends on its customers for everything. They pay the rent, they bring their sisters, and they are the only reason the shop is still open. In that sense every one of them matters equally, and the owner greets each woman who walks in with the same courtesy.

But they do not all bring the same thing.

One customer dresses an entire family before every wedding season, and spends in a year what most spend with the shop in a decade. She deserves a call when the new fabrics arrive, before they go on the rail.

Another buys rarely but notices everything: the stitching on a cuff, a sleeve that runs short on taller women. What she says tells the owner how to serve a hundred women like her. She is worth hearing out properly.

A third bought the very first piece the shop ever sold and still sends her daughters. She is part of the reason the place exists at all.

Treating these customers differently is not unfair. It would be strange not to. What goes wrong is treating them differently by accident, giving attention to whoever is loudest or most familiar, and calling that service.

So the work comes before the favour. Who is this person, really, and what does she add? Why does the shop want to give her more of its time, its stock and its patience? With an honest answer, special treatment becomes a decision. Without one, it is just a habit with a few regulars attached.