Bogeys, Burglaries & Brutality

Trust Fun is brought to you by Redo

Please respect my privacy during this extremely difficult time. And before you say, “Cael, they’re just golf clubs,” let me stop you right there. They were not just golf clubs. They were hope in a travel bag. They were delusion with headcovers. They were a very expensive pile of metal sticks that allowed me to wake up every Saturday morning and convince myself that I was one swing thought, one YouTube lesson, and one medium bucket away from becoming a 7 handicap.

The story is pretty simple. I shipped my clubs down to South Carolina because I was going on a trip where there would be golf, and, for once in my life, I thought I was being a responsible adult. Instead of lugging a giant travel bag through the airport like some divorced regional sales manager headed to Scottsdale, I decided to ship them.

Smart, right?

Wrong.

They went MIA. Stolen most likely, according to my good friends — or now enemies — at FedEx. And just like that, my summer of golf was off to a very shitty start.

At first, I was obviously pissed. Then sad. Then pissed again. Then I did the only thing any modern adult does when something bad happens: I posted about it on LinkedIn.

And honestly, the response was awesome. So many people reached out offering to help, make intros, replace gear, send stuff, connect me with golf brands. Thank you internet. Love you more than you know.

So, somehow, what started as a very sad start to the golf season has quickly turned into what might be an all time summer of golf. Be prepared to see me whitelisted on your insta feed more than you already do. Probably 4-putting.

That’s the funny thing about annoying things happening. At first, they’re just a bummer. You get the call. The clubs are gone. The customer returned the product. The deal fell through. The ad account melted. The shipment got delayed. UPS launched your package into a quarry. Whatever it is, your first reaction is always the same:

“That sucks.”

And honestly, that reaction is fair. Some things just suck. But after the initial “this sucks” phase, you really only have two options. You can stay mad, or you can figure out what the hell happened, adapt, and use it.

That’s basically the entire game of running a business. Bad stuff happens constantly. Customers return products. Packages get lost. Vendors mess up. Facebook decides your ads are actually illegal now. A product you thought was going to crush ends up moving slower than a Sunday foursome of retired guys who refuse to let you play through.

Annoying? Yes. Useful? Also yes.

My stolen golf clubs are a perfect example. The clubs are gone. That part sucks and there isn’t much I can do about it. But once the initial frustration wears off, I still have to ask the annoying questions. What happened? Where did the process break? What do I do differently next time? Was this preventable? Am I the idiot?

Unfortunately, the answer to that last one is often yes.

But that’s the point. Losses are only useless if you refuse to investigate them.

And that brings me to returns.

Going through your returns data is the DTC equivalent of flossing your teeth. Everybody agrees it’s important. Everybody nods seriously when it comes up. Everybody says things like, “Yeah, we should really be looking at that more.” And then, six months go by and you’re in a dentist chair getting publicly shamed by a hygienist with a tiny mirror and the emotional presence of a federal prosecutor.

That’s basically how returns data feels. You know it’s full of valuable information. You know customers are literally telling you why something didn’t work. You know there are probably product, fit, copy, photo, and website fixes hiding in there.

But also… you have 900 other things to do. Meta is being weird. The homepage needs updating. Someone found a typo in an email. A customer is mad because UPS launched their package into a ravine. So returns data quietly gets sent to the “we’ll look at that later” graveyard.

Well, do I have a “holy shit” moment for you.

I’ve been playing around with Redo’s new ChatGPT integration this week, and unfortunately for my “AI is mostly LinkedIn cosplay” worldview, it is very fucking cool.

You can now ask questions about your returns and exchanges like you’re talking to a data analyst who has spent the last six months locked in a basement studying every piece of feedback you’ve ever received. And it doesn’t just give you a spreadsheet-shaped migraine. It gives you actual recommendations.

For Mugsy, it immediately surfaced some painfully useful ideas: make it clearer that our core fit leans tapered, show more sitting photos, add side-profile shots, use athletic-leg models, and create videos explaining inseams, break-in, and how different fits actually look on different bodies.

That’s not “AI will revolutionize commerce” gobbledygook. That’s “put better copy above the size selector so fewer guys buy the wrong jeans” useful. And that’s the stuff that actually matters.

Most brands don’t ignore returns because they’re dumb. They ignore them because they’re busy. Digging through return reasons is tedious, messy, and usually requires someone to turn into Sherlock Holmes with a CSV file.

Redo basically turns that pile of customer feedback into something you can actually use.

Returns aren’t just a cost center. They’re customer feedback with a shipping label. And now, with Redo plugged into ChatGPT, you can finally floss the damn business without needing a full-time data scientist named Keith.

My clubs getting stolen started as a disaster, but because a bunch of awesome people and brands stepped up, now I’m weirdly fired up for golf season. New gear. New brands to rep. New excuses for shooting 94.

Bad start. Better outcome.

Returns can be the same thing. A customer sending something back is never ideal. It dings revenue, adds friction, and makes everyone just a little bit sad. But inside that return is also a clue. Why did they send it back? What expectation did we miss? What did we fail to explain? What should we fix so this happens less next time?

That’s the part that matters.

Anyway, if anyone sees a suspicious man in South Carolina gaming a stolen driver and three-putting for double bogey, please tackle him.

That might be my 7-iron.