Every now and again I wake up and decide to check on some detail like, for instance, home insurance.

I have zero connection with the agent of record on my homeowners policy — I’m billed by and pay the actual insurer directly; I’ve never met and have no idea what, if anything, this agent does to merit a commission. So my neighbor’s enthusiastic description of his recent insurance review caught my attention. People in my neighborhood don’t give enthusiastic reviews about financial services. But my friend’s new agent gave him a great initial customer service experience. When’s the last time you heard anything like that?

So I set up an appointment for a sit-down visit to look at the whole picture — homeowners, auto, business. On the way to the insurance office, I get a call saying they’ve just realized my agent of record is a colleague and friend and I really should go to him for my review. “That’s very honorable,” I say, “But I have no connection with him. I called you because my friend talked about you.” Be that as it may, they insist I go to the other guy and they offer to have him call me — which he doesn’t — and then Google the directions to his office and give them to me over the phone to make sure I arrive at my destination.

I don’t recall ever being in a sales situation where I felt less welcome…well, there was that one time driving across Texas in 1972 when — my long, thick hair tied up in a bandanna, dressed in baggy corduroy cut-offs, sandals, and a classic Mexican wedding shirt — I could tell the folks in the tiny country store couldn’t wait for me to pay for my Co-Cola and leave. The unpleasantness of this insurance encounter is an order of magnitude greater than I’ve ever experienced.

“Let me put this on hold,” he says when I walk in the door, and then, “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I don’t know you,” I say matter-of-factly and prepare to go on but he cuts me off to explain why that’s my fault and that he hasn’t had the right phone number and blah, blah, blah.

When he finishes, we each wait for the other and, after a few moments, I say, “Then I guess I need to go home and do a bit of figuring. Thanks for your time.” And I walk out as he reaches for his desk phone to continue what he was doing when I arrived.

He didn’t ask for my actual phone number. He didn’t offer to cross-sell the products he represents in auto and business insurance or attempt to up-sell my homeowners policy. My insurance needs are by no means a big dollar affair; I understand that. But this industry professional didn’t understand or didn’t care that he was leaving money on the table that could easily have been his.

So, my admittedly modest insurance business is now in play.

However, I won’t be calling my neighbor’s guy again. Checking perceptions with my friend after the silliness at “my” agent’s office, it turns out the guy who made such a great first impression three weeks ago has yet to deliver any of the documents and documentation he promised. But by golly, he sure deposited that check for the first year’s premiums.

How long could you get away with that kind of customer interaction?

How long would you put up with it from outfacing employees, colleagues or partners?