[Note to blog readers: This week's Digital Talanoa in the FijiTimes is very much an extension of my "When $1.60 costs $1,680" posting from a few weeks ago. Clearly, I have not gotten it out of my system and my need to have a few hundred thousand read this versus just a few thousand speaks for itself. Thanks for understanding.]
Let me apologise in advance for this week’s column. It appears to be coming from my dark side.
I was recently reminded of a dining experience I had about 15 years ago in New York City. I was with a friend who had been raving about a restaurant run by an old, black woman (affectionately named “Mama”) from Louisiana in the deep American south. The food she served was traditional, southern “cuisine” and my friend’s reviews were mouth-watering. So off we went to eat at Mama’s place.
When we walked in, I didn’t feel like we were in a restaurant at all. Seemed more like a cross between a living room and backyard. Big picnic tables were scattered around everywhere, lighting was low and the sounds of cajun jazz dripped from the kitchen in the back. There was a sign on the front door which said something along the lines of “Dinner served at 7.” There were no “opening hours” posted. I later learned that “dinner served at 7” literally means dinner is served at 7. Not at 6:30 or at 8:30. Just at 7.
When we walked in a few minutes before 7 p.m., Mama gave my friend a warm hug and scolded him for not properly cleaning up after himself the last time he ate there. Although my friend was properly trained on how to eat at Mama’s place, he didn’t fully brief me on the etiquette. I was a bit confused by all this but went with the flow. I introduced myself to Mama and told her how happy I was to be in her restaurant and couldn’t wait to see what was on the menu. Mama didn’t like that.
“We don’t got no menu here. Ya eat whad-eye serve ya.” Mama said.
Gulp.
For the next two hours, Mama made good on her threat. We were given, among other things, authentic, southern cajun deep-fried chicken, ears of the freshest and tastiest corn I’ve ever had, buckets of spiced black-eyed peas, tons of sweet potatoes and huge mounds of corn bread. I can safely say that it was one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life. I believe Mama mandated a 30 minute digestion cycle where we were forced to drink cups of coffee thicker than honey. I’ve since come to realise that without that jolt of caffeine, I would have spent the night sleeping on the floor of her restaurant, too fat and stuffed to move.
Why do I tell this story? For one, I do miss corn on the cob a lot but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is to highlight the experience Mama created for her customers and to point out she didn’t do it by being nice (although she was an angel). She did it by controlling the experience from start to finish in order to ensure we walked away satisfied. In Mama’s restaurant, the customer is not always right. Mama’s right. It seemed better for the health of the customer to just accept that.
Controlling the customer experience is the lesson here. I’m not implying that the customer should be given everything they want, though. Knowing what they want can be enough. Two weeks ago, I posted an essay (or more accurately, a rant) I wrote on my blog. It was entirely focused upon a negative customer experience I had while lunching in a Suva restaurant recently. Truthfully, when I returned to my office that day after lunch, I was so wound up at the experience that I had to write it out in order to continue with the rest of my afternoon. I’ve thought about the experience since that fateful day, too. It’s not so much the actual lunch which continues to be on my mind but rather the way it impacted me, especially when I compare it to my Mama story.
Without recapping all the specifics of that challenging lunch experience (you can read it yourself at blog.oceanic.com.fj), I can summarise just a bit for the rest of you. It was a restaurant that I frequent fairly often. I have never particularly found this place to excel at customer service at all but they will generally deliver most of my ordered food within an acceptable amount of time. Lately, though, I’ve noticed a change in their ordering accuracy and in their speed. When a restaurant makes its customers wait an extended period of time only to be served the wrong order, it’s time to think about frequenting new restaurants.
The final straw for me in this restaurant, however, was it’s own “Mama”. This manager, the person responsible for ensuring everything is running smoothly clearly had no concept of what it meant to service customers. The problem began when the waitress informed us they had no ketchup for our chips. I don’t want to fit the “ugly American” stereotype here and complain about that but for a restaurant which effectively serves chips with every meal, not having one of the world’s most popular condiments on the table seemed like a glaring error, especially when the typical meal is like $12. ‘Nuff said.
The waitress offered a “replacement condiment” instead which we took with a smile. Upon checkout, this “replacement condiment” was sitting there on the bill, as glaring as a black stain on the white shirt of a person heading to a job interview. Something simply needed to be done about it.
I pointed this out the manager but she was adamant that the $1.60 for this item be paid. In fact, she actually tried to offer an explanation as to why I must pay it. I did some math to determine that I spent probably $120 a month in that place and visit frequently, that equates to $1440 a year. Want to guess how much this restaurant will be collecting from me this year?
Just to be clear here, the insult was not that this restaurant didn’t have ketchup. The insult was that the restaurant didn’t seem to care at all about not having ketchup.
Every time I run into experiences like this, my head aches from trying to figure out HOW IT COULD ACTUALLY BE HAPPENING. Have you ever called up a pizza restaurant in Suva to order food for takeaway but end up getting the feeling that this is the first time in the history of the restaurant that they’ve ever taken a phone call ordering a pizza??? This is what I’m writing about.
I think it’s unlikely that I’m the only one experiencing these situations but I suppose I should be willing to accept the possibility it is. I was raised to believe that ordering a large vegetarian pizza should actually result in being given a large vegetarian pizza, not two medium bbq chicken pizzas.
So what’s all this have to do with the talanoa, you ask? Well, technology, business and especially customer service is going through a transformative time. Some businesses appear to almost go out of their way to ignore these changes and they are the ones who will be left by the side of the road first. Since posting about this experience on my blog, I received a lot of feedback from people who relayed their own negative customer experiences. I figured I’d open it up to the Fiji Times readership as well. Do you have good or bad stories to tell? Send them on to talanoa@oceanic.com.fj. I obviously need to find some new Suva restaurants anyway.
From the FijiTimes 15 March, 2008
Jonathan Segal is the Managing Director and CEO of Oceanic Communications (www.oceanic.com.fj), an advertising, marketing and technology agency in Suva. Feel free to send comments and topic suggestions to talanoa@oceanic.com.fj
