Service 101: Finding My Mecca

Zingerman's Deli

Some people go to churches for inspiration. Others go to shrines, nature, the farmers market, or a synagogue for a higher message. For me, mecca is a tiny delicatessen in Ann Arbor, Michigan named Zingerman’s.

I never expected to find bedrock inspiration from inside a humble brick deli with crooked wood floors. But ever since I took my first step inside the tiny footprint that is the deli, being there feels like I’ve been given a triple dose of hope. Within the overstocked walls of the hundred-year old building, there are employees who smile and gush about the products, and practically jump through hoops in order to please each and every customer. These employees—cherry cheeked teenagers, college students, young mothers, sisters and brothers, and gray haired men in bandannas–exhibit the kind of enthusiasm that one expects to see from the chorus of a big stage musical, just before the music starts.

They don’t serve Kool-Aid, but they’ll sample you on any product

At any of the Zingerman’s Community of businesses (or ZCob for short), the senses are bombarded. Colorful signs, packed shelves, freshly baked breads, and deli cases are filled with cheese and meats so appealing they have the power to make just about any food lover blush. With just one sample taste and an engaging description by an enthusiastic employee, many customers find themselves feeling the positive effects of the place. They loosen up. They smile. And, unsurprisingly, the soothed customer happily hands over piles of cash for a jar of wild flower honey, preserved lemons from Tunisia, the loaf of deli-sourdough, a chunk of Italian Pecorino, a vial of garum (an Italian fish sauce), a bar of chocolate imported from the Ecuador, and a buttery/spicy olive oil. Items that just moments before the customer had no idea they really, really wanted.

Look, if you’ve never been to Zingerman’s Deli, Creamery, Bake House, Mail Order, Candy Manufactury, Roadhouse, or Coffee Company in Ann Arbor, then you might think all of this positive work ethic stuff might sound a little bit hippy dippy. The thing is, there are no camp songs, no hokey character outfits that everyone is required to wear, and no corporate brainwashing. It’s simply a place where art and commerce meet and happiness and profit are friends.

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