There are 83,249 titles about customer service on Amazon.com. It’s been analyzed, systemized, amplified and quantified.

But at its core, great customer service is pretty simple.

Case in point, Peter the Chef.

Peter’s the head chef at a boutique hotel on the Left Coast. He has the pragmatic, easygoing style of a native Philadelphian.

A bunch of us hung out at his place of employ a few days ago, getting ready for a big meeting; brainstorming, fretting, rehearsing.

Through it all, Peter was omnipresent, but never hovered. He’s a keen observer and great listener, tuning in naturally to conversations around him. While we expected him to (hopefully) prepare sumptuous meals, we didn’t expect him to:

• Visit us after the food was served to describe what he had created with genuine pride (in his low-key style)
•  Improvise with a white tablecloth on a wall so we’d have a “screen” to rehearse our PowerPoint after the meal
• Help us get a vehicle big enough to seat nine for the big meeting
• Maneuver to get us a projector and real screen
• Give us four waves of complimentary hors d’ouevres the next day when we got back, again with personal descriptions

We never asked Peter to do any of these things, he just made it happen. That’s the essence of great customer service, isn’t it? Being consistently surprised. And delighted by the unexpected.

Some might say, “Why’s a head chef worrying about stuff like that? That’s not his job. You wouldn’t see that at a five star hotel!” Well, that’s exactly my point. I’ve stayed in many Four Seasons and Ritz Carltons and can’t remember when I was unexpectedly delighted.

Peter the Chef cared about making us happy. He cared about the experience we had. He wanted us to come back again.

Thanks to great customer service, we will.

As bleak as the economy is, I’m hearing one thing that makes me smile:

“There is no better time for new ideas.”

Yes, the great thing about this poor economy is that there’s so little room to fall. What was a foolish gamble yesterday is a potentially game-saving effort today. So from a creative perspective, I can work with this. Although I dislike economic pain, I love new ideas (maybe to a fault).

So naturally I was intrigued when I heard two men from Microsoft – Don Richardson, director, global innovation and PLM (product lifecycle management) industry strategy, and Simon Floyd, worldwide PLM industry technology strategist – detail their vision for innovation management. Some of their points:

Great ideas aren’t enough. They’ve got to be commercialized. “Great inventors die poor. Great innovators make money.” The laser, for example, was viewed as a solution without a problem until innovators applied it to surgery, manufacturing, and optical storage (DVDs).

The Eureka moment is too short. It’s almost human nature to shoot down an idea the instant it’s proposed. This may end up being the right move, but it’s a poor replacement for a systematic assessment of new ideas. Although you’d look ridiculous striding into conference room wearing a helmet slathered in duct tape, you’d look like a genius if you refined it into a sleek ski helmet with audio embedded.

Products need processes and/or services to go with them. The iPod, for example, would be nothing without the iTunes service. Netflix needs movies and mail. A car needs roads. Great new communications strategies need media, traditional or otherwise.

Ideas have lifecycles that need to be managed. Invest all you want in R&D, but don’t expect a return if you can’t cultivate the best ideas. Here’s the cultivation process: strategize → brainstorm → capture → formulate → evaluate → define → select → deliver.

Software can drive all of this. Naturally, Microsoft demoed software to do this and (setting aside the merits of the particular software), the concept was cool. It’s a social computing environment.

Anyone can propose an idea in the community. It gets its own Web page that you can flesh out with images, sketches and descriptions like a Facebook profile. Colleagues can scan the entire inventory of proposed ideas by title, click through and drill down on the ones that interest them, and rate them like books or movies. There are executive tools for evaluating highly rated ideas, as well as charts, graphs and reports.

I love the concept: encourage new ideas, let them breathe, and consider their potential before their pitfalls. Ensure there’s a process for innovation and everyone knows it. And yes, when the time is right, do what’s required in any cultivation process: the weeding.

In L.A., no one’s who they appear to be. Teri McMinn is a case in point.

I met her Monday; she was at the front desk; managing the hotel. Nice lady, outgoing, professional. Early fifties, with fascinating experiences looming behind still-vital eyes.

We got to talking – one of those easy conversations without starts and stops. Turns out Teri was in the 1974 horror film classic, “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” directed by Tobe Hooper. She was 21 years old when the movie came out.

In the movie, she’s Pam, a teenager who travels to a cemetery (along with her boyfriend and some friends) to investigate reports of grave vandalism. She ends up on a meat hook.

Teri’s proud of the independent movie, laughing as she recalls her “classic butt shot.”  She reminded me the film is included in the Modern Art Film Archives and considered one of the greatest horror films of all time. Director Ridley Scott said “Alien” was inspired by Chainsaw. The film is among Time Magazine’s top 25 horror films of all time. Its documentary style paved the way for films like “Blair Witch Project.”

While Teri’s Hollywood star faded a bit over the past three decades, the horror genre, as she put it, “grew big.” She kept an intentionally low profile for a long time and then decided to stick her toe into social networking.

She started on Myspace, then added Facebook. Teri built a profile and a following – calling herself Original Chainsaw Gal – re-invigorating a dormant fan base that had lost track of Pam. People started to come out of the ether, found her, and connected with her and each other. Next thing you know, the horror movie convention circuit came calling. Teri made some guest appearances, signing autographs at $20 a whack to nervous fans eagerly lining up to meet the former leg and foot model.

Terri comments on the transformational aspects of social networking: “The fans are everywhere! They come out of the woodwork and show a lot of love and respect. I am enjoying the ride and don’t expect a lot. I’ve developed a few hundred fans internationally since doing ‘Spacebook’ these past 10 months. It took awhile to learn the tech stuff! I now have the possibility to finally make some money after many years of being asked to do free interviews and appearances. I/we, the cast, may appear with the people involved with the making of it, and the other three remakes, later this year for the 35th anniversary.”

That’s the mind-blowing magic behind the social media revolution, the network effect.

Unknowns can build loyal followings. Invisibles can carve personal brands and become vital. The famous can become more famous. And yes, even a multi-decade-long recluse – like Teri - can be instantly re-invigorated.