The Perfect Customer

Three years ago, our organization had aspirations about how we would support people, but our philosophy was grounded in stories rather than shared experience. Then we met Gerhard Maschkowski.

When Gerhard’s daughter called before his relocation to New Mexico, we were electrified. Nina Martinez and Roberta Payne put together the care team for this 97-year-old Holocaust survivor. Getting to know Gerhard was easy.

Gerhard knew exactly what he wanted. He was the clearest, most directive person any of us had ever supported. After a childhood of starvation, Gerhard refused to eat alone. Caregivers had to share each meal. Every meal was a conversation, never just eating together but truly connecting. He structured interactions around tabletop games, patiently teaching anyone who wasn’t skilled. Gerhard wanted real connection with his caregivers, and he had mapped the path to get there.

When Geidy Melara called me at 7 pm on a Tuesday night her daughter was sick and headed to the emergency room, and all of Gerhard’s other caregivers were unavailable. I was excited for my turn at his kitchen table. Geidy was especially worried about his bedtime routine; his special contact lenses sometimes got away from him.

I arrived and Gerhard insisted Geidy go be with her daughter, joking that the boss would tuck him in. After recapping his survival story, we played canasta.

As Gerhard taught me the game (we switched to Mexican train; I’m terrible at canasta) I fell under his spell, feeling the connection and trust develop between us.

I waited as he got ready for bed, then helped with his contact lenses. Gerhard lay on his side in his warm bed, his knees pulled up, and wiggled to settle in like a little puppy or maybe like the little boy he was before the Nazis crowded him into a train car.

I tucked his covers around his body, which had somehow become younger, softer. His breathing slowed as I tucked the covers around him. The room grew quiet except for his contented sigh, and he seemed younger, softer, and, in my memory, glowed just a bit. He smiled beatifically. “This is my favorite part of the day.”

It was as if he’d invited his younger self forward, belly full, clean, loved, cared for. I turned off the lights and slipped out.

I saw Gerhard many times over the following months and years. Once, he came to our office to explain exactly what made him happy. Forty-five of us held our breath at every word.

He became our benchmark: Could we support all our clients to know themselves deeply enough to live in ways that create favorite moments, connection, ease, and comfort?

Gerhard was a gift to those who worked with him and to every person we support moving forward. His example became our example, not of how everyone should live, but of the confidence in one’s own needs and desires that we want to nurture in all our clients.

Everyone has great customers. We were something much more than lucky that Gerhard came to us. His example was the embodiment of what good care can provide, and he demanded it, accepting nothing less.

The business lesson for us was clear: when customers know exactly what they want and aren’t afraid to ask for it, they make excellence possible. They become partners in creating the experience that satisfies them. Gerhard co-created his care by being crystal clear about his needs and holding us accountable to meet them. He showed us that customer satisfaction isn’t something you deliver to people; it’s something you create with them. That’s the kind of customer relationship that transforms both service and provider.

This column ran in the Santa Fe New Mexican on April 21, 2026, under Business Different.