I've been doing business with the same dry cleaner for several years. The owners of the dry cleaner are a Korean couple who came to this country about 30 years ago. They are research biologists by education, who in their words, "got tired of staring into a microscope" and decided to go into business for themselves. They are in their store six days a week, from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. They have two daughters in college; one is pre-med. The store is convenient to me because I pass by on my way to the office.

About a year ago my wife mentioned a new dry cleaner had just opened up near our home, and it offered a sale on shirt laundering for 99 cents each—less than half what I normally pay. She was surprised when I showed no interest in trying out the new store. (To put it kindly, she believes me to be an overly careful shopper.) When she pressed the issue I said, "Look, I'm happy with our current cleaners and they're convenient." To which she responded, "But the new place is even more convenient, and they may do just as good of a job, for a lot less money." After some additional back and forth, I finally said, "Lynda, we know these people. They eat in the same restaurants, shop in the same stores. I would just feel very uncomfortable if we stopped doing business with them."

This got me to thinking about the dry cleaner I patronized in our old neighborhood. I didn't think twice when I stopped doing business with them. What was the difference? The previous dry cleaner was a large chain where I didn't have any kind of relationship with the store clerk. In fact, it seemed like there was a different one each time I visited the store. One Saturday evening when I tried to pick up my shirts and found their door locked, the clerk's response to my knocking was to point to the clock on the wall. It was exactly closing time, 6 p.m., straight up.