From The Literary Hub:
We had screwed up the customer’s special order. Or charged her twice for the same book. Or maybe we had forgotten to ask if she was part of our customer loyalty program before the sale and had needed to redo the transaction. It was our fault, we screwed up, all booksellers have been there. Anyone who has ever worked retail, or in any service industry job, has been there. The protocol is near-reflex, at this point: you apologize, thank the customer so much for their patience, maybe give them ten to twenty percent off their purchase, and wish them a great rest of their day. Once, at the end of such an interaction, which had taken a serious turn for the worse my former boss (also my Dad, who probably doesn’t recall this, and will be embarrassed to be reminded that he ever said such a thing) joked to the customer: “Why even shop local?”
This joke is the opposite of that other punch-line you hear in independent bookstores—“You don’t get this kind of customer service online”—but they are based on the same premise. People go to their local bookstores for that “personal” touch. While other folks (let’s keep them abstract and cold for now) sell you online services which require no human interaction whatsoever, such as zero-click burrito ordering, booksellers across the world open their doors, play their eclectic music, and try to help you find a good book. But, as the very product we sell teaches us, humans are awful and not to be trusted. That’s why I love independent bookstores: our strongest talent is also our biggest weakness.
. . . .
An algorithm does not take the joke too far; a search engine won’t judge your taste. Of course we should continue to call out the online behemoths about the biases of their algorithms, the treatment of their employees, or how they can screw up your order and put you on hold for an hour. But these transgressions aren’t scalable, to use the lingo of corporate America—the stressful and awful rule of retail is that a person will tell twice as many people about a bad experience as a good one. Each customer interaction holds exponentially more weight for us than it does for Amazon.
. . . .
The fear of torches might be a little much, for now, but it points to a reality that I think every bookseller knows and will admit: our position is a precarious one. Our existence depends on the theory that people will continue to come back and hear our (usually wrong, and always subjective) thoughts on books, art, and sometimes even life.
Link to the rest at The Literary Hub
“Anyone who has ever worked retail, or in any service industry job, has been there. The protocol is near-reflex, at this point: you apologize, thank the customer so much for their patience, maybe give them ten to twenty percent off their purchase, and wish them a great rest of their day.”
That might be the worked-in-retail reflex, but the owned-retail-business reflex better damned well include “and training employees better.”
As someone who has managed small-business retail, I can tell you few small business owners take on the responsibility of training their employees to better respond to the most basic of customer expectations. (What a recommendation? GREAT! Want it in a timely fashion? GOLLY WE’RE JUST A SMALL BUSINESS!)
If an employee screws up, it’s likely because the employER didn’t hire the right employee, or didn’t train the employee properly. Period.
I don’t know about this. Being in a customer-facing job for many, many years, I can say that, without question- all employees make mistakes or have a bad day. It’s called being human.
There are retailers who view customers as a drain on the system and a major PITA, mere annoyances to get out the door as quickly as possible. (Much the way government “services” view citizens.)
Other retailers view every customer as a valued client for whom giving an exceptional shopping experience is almost a calling. It’s a point of pride to follow through on every promise and go above and beyond whenever possible.
Online or b&m, it’s not the location that keeps me going back. It’s the attitude.
That’s the difference between Publix and Wal-Mart.
Agreed about the retailers. I’m a bike commuter, so I have regular service and parts-replacement needs. At the bike shop closer to me, I once walked in and interrupted the lunch of a staffer who had to put down his sandwich to help me, and he didn’t try to hide his annoyance. Once was all it took. At the one that’s farther away, they’re always gracious and professional, and they let me know they appreciate my business. They don’t kiss my butt; they’re just unhurried and nice. Going to the farther one means double the walk home after I drop my bike off, yet they get my business every time.
I worked for an independent bookseller years ago. Harry Potter was still being released and there was a special limited edition available. A mother and daughter came in and ordered that special edition through us. My boss (the owner) took the order. After they left, he set the order aside and told me to place it when we did the bulk of them (many people had ordered the regular book through us). I told him that we should place the order for the special edition right away because it was a limited run and they would not be available if we didn’t move on it. He took the order out of my hand and said that they would all come in on the same day so it didn’t matter. Needless to say, the mother and daughter didn’t get their limited edition book. I was dreading their return. When I saw them come in, I quickly ran to the bathroom and let my boss handle the issue.
The only time I see them ask about ‘customer loyalty programs’ is when they’re trying to push theirs on you for better tracking.
Every time I use a credit card at Sam’s they want to push their in store credit card which would be just one more bill to find/pay.
Online you can just skip past those lines after you’ve read them once, but in the store the clerks are programed to ask every fool that enters every single time — and you get to waste your time not being able to get them to do their job until after they’ve finished their spiel (yes, I’m well aware their bosses make them do it, but you’d think they’d figure out all they’re doing is annoying us). No wonder we’re going online.