Service
With a (Fake) Smile
A
(sort of) scientific inquiry into what makes for good,
bad and just plain ugly customer service.
By Timothy Taylor; illustration
by Aya Kakeda
A Theory of Everything (T.O.E.) is the
Holy Grail of physics. And, as with the physical laws
of the universe, scientists have been working for nearly
a century now to craft a single unifying Theory of Customer
Service. An elegant framework by which all of our customer
service experiences may be understood.
Well: I returned from a trip recently
(England) and had breakfast the next morning at my regular
jet-lag café (Think Café, up 10th Avenue).
I'll admit I drink Starbucks when I travel. Over-priced,
over-roasted? Perhaps. A globally purveyed experience
of spectacular inauthenticity? Right you are. But consistent,
which is worth something when you're on the road and
pressed for time. Back at home, of course, I don't want
routine, programmed, standardized service, however pleasant.
I want authenticity, by which I mean service (and goods)
that are believably personal, individual and spontaneous.
I want real people having good days and bad days. And
that's Think. No high-watt grins first thing in the
morning because, let's be honest, we're all tired. No
by-the-book "Can I get you a pastry with that?"
Think coffee service ranges from neutral to grumpy,
which is A-OK with me.
I got thinking about why it was I started going to Think
in the first place. The catalyst, I recalled, was an
incident at another independent neighbourhood coffee
shop: Bean Around the World. And there, not a block
away, when our dog began barking outside while my sleep-deprived
wife with our then-newborn son waited in line, the barrista
offered the following in the way of personal, individual,
spontaneous customer service: "God, I wish I had
a gun right now."
Authentic service? Or just horrifically bad?
Maybe both. Here came my T.O.E. rushing in with the
Think caffeine. Maybe the universe of customer service
experiences is not a linear structure at all, from good
to bad, but a planar one, where experiences range across
a grid of possibility as follows:
My experience with coffee shops could be easily understood
in these terms. Based on time and location, I might
swap some authenticity for programmed pleasantry (Starbucks
in London over Think at home). But there is a level
of crap service (dog threatened with hypothetical gun,
for example) that no amount of authenticity will justify.
Which is why I'll never go back to Bean Around the World,
and why I enjoy spreading the story as widely as possible.
Of course, I understood that my hypothesis required
testing, which required data. And after collecting
dozens
of stories from friends, I'm pleased to report that
my Customer Service T.O.E. is hanging in there. Consider:
Authentically and Inauthentically Good Service
We might as well dispense quickly with the good service
stories because people didn't offer me many. I suppose
it's a matter of evolutionary imperative that we remember
bad experiences so as to avoid them in future. But
one
friend did describe how the produce manager at Safeway
cut open a cantaloupe for her to confirm its ripeness.
He even brought her a slice on a little plate. This
is a good story illustrating that authentic, personal
service may still be found in highly structured, corporate
environments.
Of course, inauthentically good customer service is
so widespread you probably don't even notice it anymore.
Every time you do a bank machine transaction without
incident or retrieve a number from the phone automatrix
("I'm sorry, what was that name again?")
you are engaged with a program, a routine, however
successful
the outcome. And when it comes to withdrawing cash
or looking up phone numbers (or getting coffee overseas),
that's probably just as well.
CONTINUE
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