In which I learn that Zappos.com hires professional stalkers

Okay, I get that Zappos is a "fun" store. They're going for a laid-back, we're-you're-buddies vibe. That's cool. I can handle that. Plus, I like the new shoes I got. They're nice shoes.
But here's the question: Just how far can you encourage folks go with customer service before it becomes customer stalking?
My previous post was very long, so you probably didn't read it all the way through. That's okay. I didn't proofread it all the way through either.
But the title is pretty much all you need to read. I tried to exchange shoes. Much, much, much talking was required in order to accomplish this.
So that's the end of it, I think. I made it. I beat the level. I got my shoes. New scenario.
Then I check my mail a few days later.

Zappos.com, says the envelope. Printed, official. Follow-up, I think, them being Powered By Service and all. Thanks for ordering. Sorry you didn't like that first pair of shoes. Glad you found others. Please buy more now. You have store credit. Remember your store credit? You don't have to buy shoes. We have socks and knives and golf clubs.
Something like that, I figured.
Odd, I thought, that Zappos.com hand-writes the recipient's address. That seems sort of time-consuming. Also, they should have scribbled a little first to get the ink flowing.

Then I open it up. THEN I OPEN IT UP.

Is that marker? Is that three colors of marker?!
But it's the doggy stamp, the smiley sticker, and that little foam flower dealio that really give me pause.

 I cannot picture this workplace. Are there big jars of assorted craft supplies sitting next to each desk for this sort of thing? Then I'm picturing everyone working at something resembling the Youth desk at my library, stampers and stickers and toys and temporary tattoos hidden away in every drawer, next to the first-aid kit and behind the file folders. Or did he go home and raid his kids' stash of supplies?
And really, it wouldn't take a privacy nut, not even a privacy enthusiast, to be a little concerned that they are getting handwritten mail to their homes from the customer-service guy. Specifically. Personally. HE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE.
On second thought, maybe this means he knows where I blog as well.
Brian with a giant B, my apologies if you discover this in your efforts to further provide exceptional customer service, and feel offended and/or homicidal. You were psyched about flesh-eating insects, remember. It's fair for me to think of this as mildly weird.

So what say you, gentle reader? Would you be put off or pleased by this exercise in Extreme Customer Service? If I actually *buy* something on my own initiative from this place, will I get balloons? What should I use that store credit for, anyhow? Do they really sell kitchen knives?