Memorial Day Gives U.S. Retail Industry A Chance to Remember Customers and Things More Important Than Holiday Discounts
Monday May 25, 2009
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Memorial Day is usually just another holiday for the U.S. retail industry, providing an occasion for discounting appliances, patio furniture, barbecue grills, and clearing out slow-moving inventory with the help of patriotic themed fliers and military family discounts. The difference this year was a pesky retail recession which curbed recreational spending and gave retailers more time to think and remember a kinder, gentler retail environment.
Other than abbreviated operating hours, this Memorial Day was just another Monday at my favorite local chain restaurant, where regulars lunch with their laptops because of the free Wi-Fi and moderately priced sandwiches made on freshly baked bread. It was less than an ordinary Monday for me, however.
The restaurant seemed uncharacteristically disorganized today for some reason. The wait at the cash register to place an order was unusually long, even though the dining room wasn't nearly full. There was not a whole grain baked good in the place, and just about every unoccupied tabletop sat uncleared and uncleaned.
When I received my soup order, the spoon on my tray was filthy. When I handed it back and asked for another one I was given a plastic spoon. When I stated my preference for a metal spoon, the soup expediter sifted through several spoons in her silverware bin, and finally handed me spoon #3, which was also dirty. When I pointed that out, soup girl impatiently told me, “They’re all like that.”
I opted for the plastic spoon, which also later doubled as a butter spreader. After I discovered that I had no knife, I wasn’t really in the mood to play round two of the “find a clean utensil game,” so I made do.
In general, it just felt like there weren’t enough people running the show, and those that were working didn’t particularly want to be there. I figured it was just a day of minor inconveniences caused by holiday staffing. No big deal, really. My dining experience took an ugly turn, however, when the early holiday closing time drew near.
A nasty early evening storm had started, and I think all of the stragglers left in the restaurant were waiting for a lull so we could make a mad dash for our cars. The manager walked up to me and without any kind of greeting stated bluntly that the restaurant was closed and I would have to leave. When I told her that I had been waiting for a break in the storm, she said matter-of-factly, “I have to lock the doors so we can finish cleaning.”
Let me just clarify that there was not a soft summer shower happening outside. This was not “boo-hoo my hair might get wet” rain, this was ankle-high rivers in the parking lot rain. This was a Doppler Radar tracking bonanza. This was the kind of fast and furious tempest that gives Florida its official status as the lightning strike capital of the world. This was a gutter-flooding, backwash-blinding, pull over on the interstate and wait it out deluge.
The most intense part of the storm would undoubtedly have come and gone in less than a half hour like most typical Florida storms, but no matter. It was 6:01 and everyone without a plastic nametag was hustled out the door, with no regard for personal safety, weather gear, or fancy footwear.
Someone who is reading this wants to play the “safety” card at this point, I'm sure. Having been on more restaurant closing shifts than I can count, I acknowledge the need for safe closing practices. But since a majority of the employees at that location know me by sight (or should), I find it hard to believe that my presence gave anyone on the cleaning crew a legitimate cause for concern. None of the other female patrons getting bounced out of the restaurant looked particularly threatening to me either.
I'm sure the storm subsided long before the restaurant closing team had completed their duties. At least I hope so. Because if not, I'd be willing to bet that they got tossed out into the storm too.
Hours later I am still incredulous that anyone would expel a fellow human being into those kind of mini hurricane conditions for any reason. The lack of care and respect demonstrated without apology by that manager still stuns me. I can think of a dozen different ways the situation could have been handled, and none of them include the phrase, ”You have to go.”
In honor of this Memorial Day experience, perhaps it would be a good idea to pause and remember all of the customer relationships that have met with an untimely demise because of retail employees who were so busy completing their tasks that they forgot to do their job. That job being, of course, to provide valuable products and services to people.
Remember the “people?” That’s the part of retailing that’s in short supply right now and causing the retail equation to not compute. Do we really want to disregard people in the middle of recessionary conditions that are still driving major retail chains into Chapter 11?
I would have thought that the desperate lack of customers walking through retail front doors would have permanently elevated our appreciation, and shifted our attitudes towards all customers by now. Apparently not.
All of this may seem like a gross overreaction to a non-event. If you were the one cast out into the elements, though, I’m pretty positive that you’d be typing a similar thing in your blog. And you'd probably be naming names. I'm resisting the urge to do that out of respect for the many positive experiences I've had with this restaurant before yesterday. If there is a next time, though, I probably won't have as much restraint.
If nothing else, my Memorial Day experience is a great demonstration of three foundational customer service principles that deserve to be remembered.
1) There's no time off from customer relationships.
2) You're only as good as your last transaction.
3) It takes a lot of people and a lot of time to build up customer loyalty, but it only takes one employee and one bad moment to tear it down.
If a customer's last impression of you is cold and wet, they may return the favor of your disdain by leaving you high and dry. I bet there are plenty of shrinking retail organizations that wish they would have remembered that sooner.
Taking care of customers is not just one of many responsibilities of a retail organization. These days, taking care of customers is the greatest privilege of a retail organization. If you're lucky, you still get to do it. If you're thoughtless and careless, you won't have the privilege for long.
Any great customer experience can only be created one soup spoon at a time. And every day is a good day to remember that.
Other than abbreviated operating hours, this Memorial Day was just another Monday at my favorite local chain restaurant, where regulars lunch with their laptops because of the free Wi-Fi and moderately priced sandwiches made on freshly baked bread. It was less than an ordinary Monday for me, however.
The restaurant seemed uncharacteristically disorganized today for some reason. The wait at the cash register to place an order was unusually long, even though the dining room wasn't nearly full. There was not a whole grain baked good in the place, and just about every unoccupied tabletop sat uncleared and uncleaned.
When I received my soup order, the spoon on my tray was filthy. When I handed it back and asked for another one I was given a plastic spoon. When I stated my preference for a metal spoon, the soup expediter sifted through several spoons in her silverware bin, and finally handed me spoon #3, which was also dirty. When I pointed that out, soup girl impatiently told me, “They’re all like that.”
I opted for the plastic spoon, which also later doubled as a butter spreader. After I discovered that I had no knife, I wasn’t really in the mood to play round two of the “find a clean utensil game,” so I made do.
In general, it just felt like there weren’t enough people running the show, and those that were working didn’t particularly want to be there. I figured it was just a day of minor inconveniences caused by holiday staffing. No big deal, really. My dining experience took an ugly turn, however, when the early holiday closing time drew near.
A nasty early evening storm had started, and I think all of the stragglers left in the restaurant were waiting for a lull so we could make a mad dash for our cars. The manager walked up to me and without any kind of greeting stated bluntly that the restaurant was closed and I would have to leave. When I told her that I had been waiting for a break in the storm, she said matter-of-factly, “I have to lock the doors so we can finish cleaning.”
Let me just clarify that there was not a soft summer shower happening outside. This was not “boo-hoo my hair might get wet” rain, this was ankle-high rivers in the parking lot rain. This was a Doppler Radar tracking bonanza. This was the kind of fast and furious tempest that gives Florida its official status as the lightning strike capital of the world. This was a gutter-flooding, backwash-blinding, pull over on the interstate and wait it out deluge.
The most intense part of the storm would undoubtedly have come and gone in less than a half hour like most typical Florida storms, but no matter. It was 6:01 and everyone without a plastic nametag was hustled out the door, with no regard for personal safety, weather gear, or fancy footwear.
Someone who is reading this wants to play the “safety” card at this point, I'm sure. Having been on more restaurant closing shifts than I can count, I acknowledge the need for safe closing practices. But since a majority of the employees at that location know me by sight (or should), I find it hard to believe that my presence gave anyone on the cleaning crew a legitimate cause for concern. None of the other female patrons getting bounced out of the restaurant looked particularly threatening to me either.
I'm sure the storm subsided long before the restaurant closing team had completed their duties. At least I hope so. Because if not, I'd be willing to bet that they got tossed out into the storm too.
Hours later I am still incredulous that anyone would expel a fellow human being into those kind of mini hurricane conditions for any reason. The lack of care and respect demonstrated without apology by that manager still stuns me. I can think of a dozen different ways the situation could have been handled, and none of them include the phrase, ”You have to go.”
In honor of this Memorial Day experience, perhaps it would be a good idea to pause and remember all of the customer relationships that have met with an untimely demise because of retail employees who were so busy completing their tasks that they forgot to do their job. That job being, of course, to provide valuable products and services to people.
Remember the “people?” That’s the part of retailing that’s in short supply right now and causing the retail equation to not compute. Do we really want to disregard people in the middle of recessionary conditions that are still driving major retail chains into Chapter 11?
I would have thought that the desperate lack of customers walking through retail front doors would have permanently elevated our appreciation, and shifted our attitudes towards all customers by now. Apparently not.
All of this may seem like a gross overreaction to a non-event. If you were the one cast out into the elements, though, I’m pretty positive that you’d be typing a similar thing in your blog. And you'd probably be naming names. I'm resisting the urge to do that out of respect for the many positive experiences I've had with this restaurant before yesterday. If there is a next time, though, I probably won't have as much restraint.
If nothing else, my Memorial Day experience is a great demonstration of three foundational customer service principles that deserve to be remembered.
1) There's no time off from customer relationships.
2) You're only as good as your last transaction.
3) It takes a lot of people and a lot of time to build up customer loyalty, but it only takes one employee and one bad moment to tear it down.
If a customer's last impression of you is cold and wet, they may return the favor of your disdain by leaving you high and dry. I bet there are plenty of shrinking retail organizations that wish they would have remembered that sooner.
Taking care of customers is not just one of many responsibilities of a retail organization. These days, taking care of customers is the greatest privilege of a retail organization. If you're lucky, you still get to do it. If you're thoughtless and careless, you won't have the privilege for long.
Any great customer experience can only be created one soup spoon at a time. And every day is a good day to remember that.
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