Just when I thought customer service was dead — when I lament how brand after brand gets it dead wrong — a candidate comes along that surprises and delights and restores my faith in brand experience.

About a week ago, my daughter was denied passage on an Alaska Airlines flight. She had planned to travel to Portland, Oregon on her first unaccompanied flight so that that she could visit my sisters for the Christmas holiday. Unfortunately, due to bad weather, Alaska Airlines stopped allowing unaccompanied minors to travel to the region. That in itself was not the issue. The issue was that they didn’t tell us, even when we called that morning (at 4:45am) to ensure she was all set. When we got to the airport, the agent unceremoniously told us Jordan couldn’t board. My little girl was heartbroken, and I was taken aback by the experience. It wasn’t the Alaska Airlines I knew and loved.

I called immediately to voice my displeasure. The brand I knew began to surface again during my conversation with the phone agent. She was calm and professional, despite having been on duty for a double shift. By the end of the call, I had settled down, but I was still disappointed and angry. That is … until this afternoon. FedEx stopped by and delivered an unexpected package from Alaska Airlines. It contained an apology letter and a cute little stuffed animal that was addressed to Jordan. She was thrilled. See, some companies do understand that branding begins with the experience. I often write about the companies who fail at brand experience. I thought it only fair to share an example of a company that succeeded, too.

Today, American Airlines announced that it would begin charging for some mileage upgrades. Now, I get it. Times are tough. Fuel prices are high. The airlines are getting squeezed from every angle. I’m actually sympathetic. Carriers like American are saddled with a legacy of labor and operating constraints that don’t change as quickly as our economy. But that doesn’t resolve the foolish marketing approach they have employed.

When you attempt to redeem miles on American for an upgrade, the miles required will be higher and you’ll have to fork over some cash. But American doesn’t call that fee a fee. Instead, they’re branding it as a “co-payment.”

This is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just insulting. Mileage upgrades are customer rewards, a loyalty incentive. ‘Co-payment’ implies that both parties have some obligation to pay for the service. That’s why insurance companies began using the phrase when they started requiring the insured to share in the cost of routine office visits. Granted, it’s a bit of a stretch there, but the context made sense because the transaction generally involved three parties: the employer, the insurer, and the insured. When co-payments were introduced, it was novel for the insured to have to share in the cost.

I suppose it is novel for the loyalty participant to share in the cost, but it defeats the whole purpose of a loyalty program. I fly a lot. I earn rewards. Sometimes, I wish to redeem those rewards to enjoy the benefits of my loyalty. Apparently, redeeming my gift requires me to share in the cost. I tell you what. For your birthday, I’m going to buy you a cake. I’ll even bring it to you. We’ll sing Happy Birthday and just before you cut the cake, I’m going to ask you for a co-payment to cover a portion of the costs it took for me to purchase and transport the cake. It’s the least you can do in these economic times.