The (Un) Secret Shopper

 

Hello shoppers…

Stores that have names with first names in them, feel like they should have better customer service than stores that don’t.

When we visit Johnny’s Italian Steak House, Bob Brown Chevrolet, Suzette’s Candies, Irene’s Flowers, Jethro’s BBQ, Bill’s Whitewall, Christopher’s Jewelry, Uncle Sam’s Federal Childcare Center, Java Joe’s, Big Earl’s Goldmine and Bob’s Country Bunker, we expect to meet Johnny, Bob, Suzette, Irene, Jethro, Bill, Christopher, Sam, Joe, Earl and Bob.

Whether we do or don’t, doesn’t matter. The fact that we think we can, and might, sends us into those places with a subconsciously higher expectation.

And that’s why marketing consciously sucks.

At least it does for the employees who have to cash the checks that ad writers, write. (Find the genius who came up with Where there’s a helpful smile in every aisle! and a long line of PO’d Hy-Vee employees will form, happy to give him his helpful smile – right in your aisle, dude.) 

Feeling that warm, fuzzy ”I can’t wait to meet John!” buzz on the way to Taco John’s is more likely when we visit places we know are locally owned and homegrown, like Gino’s Restaurant or Scotty’s Body Shop - although if we actually saw the long-dead WWI hero Merle Hay, at Merle Hay Lanes, we’d likely toss ourselves into the pin setter.

We wouldn’t do that at Trader Joe’s, because they’re not locally owned, they don’t have bowling, and Joe Coulombe is alive and well and living in California.

Trader Joe’s – the focus of today’s Secret Shopper review - started out in 1958 as the less friendly-sounding Pronto Market convenience store chain. Joe, smartly, switched it in ’67 to his namesake, added new products (80% of which now bear the store’s name) and a sea-farin/Caribbean motif (the famous bell, wood planks). 

Today, Trader Joe’s is owned by Aldi’s (which is owned by Germans, in Germany) and has over 350 locations scattered across 28 states (not in Germany) which average 8,000-12,000 square feet in size. The stores generate some serious booty (Ask your parents about a meaning for this word other than the one you learned from rap videos): $8 billion in annual revenue, making Trader Joe’s, according to the Joes who put together a 2008 Businessweek profile, the highest grossing per-square-foot grocery chain in the U.S.

How about customer service?

There, too, Trader Joe’s rules the crowded CS seas - according to the 2010 Zogby/MSN Money Customer Service Hall of Fame Survey, which ranks Trader Joe’s 2nd only to Amazon, and places it alongside customer service heavy hitters like Nordstrom’s, Apple and FedEx.

That’s as cool as the opening 16 measures of Caribbean Queen (the rest kinda stinks): But how is the customer service at our own Trader Joe’s, at 6310 Mills Civic Parkway in West Des Moines?

That is what your land-lubbin, Unsecret Shopper set sail to find out.

I Secret Shopped Trader Joe’s twice - on a Sunday late morning, looking like a South Seas pirate with a penchant for Cyclones; and on a Tuesday early afternoon, dressed like a high-end  attorney representing Yosemite Sam in a defamation suit against Bugs Bunny.

         “Jonnie”                 “Jonathan”

 

In both cases, I went in looking for smiles and greetings and engagement and thank-yous – the all-important Pillars of Great Customer Service. I’d especially expect lots of interaction and explaining of products and glad-handling from a) a store that just opened (on November 5th), b) a grocery store chain highly regarded for its great customer service, and c) a company which categorically plays in a very crowded sandbox category of food-providers: Dahls and Hy-Vee and Walmart and raTget and Walgreens and convenience stores.

Here’s how I’ll rate the two visits, mateys:

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

 

One difference you’ll notice with today’s Secret Shopper review (and those that will follow it) is that you, very patient, sweet reader, will be able to finish it before you grow old and die. I’ve streamlined this one (which is still 2500 words - quit your giggling) down to who did great, what needs more polish and how it went overall.

I’ll keep working on that streamlining thing.

A brand new store is launched to great local fanfare; let us see if it is smooth customer service sailing for Trader Joe’s, or if rough seas scuttle it.

Staff Interaction/Jonnie – Sunday at 11:30am

1/2

WHO DID GREAT:

Grace, in the olive oil section. She smiled as I approached, asked what she could help me with, took the time to explain what was in each aisle, talked about specials, asked if she could help me find anything, told me to let her know if I had any questions, encouraged me to try some samples at the sampling table, talked about the store’s launching and how much she enjoyed working there, thanked me for coming in, wished me a wonderful day, and smiled, non-stop, the entire time we talked. Grace could not have been more charming, happy and helpful - an absolute customer service rock star! 

Jorge Ann, at the entrance. She was everywhere – greeting, engaging, thanking, almost like the store’s official glad-handling happy chick. And there were a lot of customers to glad-handle that Sunday late-morning. Jorge Ann has a great energy, which really plays well in that small, intimate shopping environment.

Neta, sampling Arangini bites at the “Tempting Culinary Arts” counter. She was good at asking the “Do you want to try…” question in different ways, to different customers – no easy feat. She also did a wonderful job explaining what was in the bites. Two tips – smile more, Neta, to match your wonderfully engaging manner, and don’t call old guys like me, sir – it makes us feel older than we already are.

Vince, stocking in the produce aisle. He greeted me pleasantly each time I came within his eyeshot and exchanged some friendly chit-chat with me, and others. Vince is one of those people with a naturally friendly vibe. Like Neta, Vince can smile more, and also, drop the “sir,” dude, especially in that store, where employees where jeans and t-shirts, pop music plays overhead and laid-back informality rules.

NEEDS MORE POLISH:

More smiles, greetings and engagement by staff. There were a lot of very busy employees in the store that day, who were very busy being busy with stocking, fronting and being busy. That led to many missed opportunities to smile at customers, say “hi,” and be friendly – a lot of what I call “denying a customer’s reality.” Andi in the wine aisle literally reached over-top of my cart to place a Chateau Meric Medoc sign by some bottles without saying a word to me. Roderick stacked bananas and watched me look at them, two feet away, without a peep. Anna silently stocked bread as I checked out loaves on either side of her. Zach fronted boxes of cereals on either side of me, then in front of me, without saying anything – but did engage Vince a second later with a laugh and a dig about being a Cyclone fan. Tim, Carrie, Luke, Mara and Chris all made eye contact with me as we walked past each other, and all looked down and away, without a smile. Sean, at the check-out counter, said a pleasant but unsmiling “Hi, how are you?” while looking at the register, then wished me a great day, this time with eye contact, but still with no smile. When there were questions asked, they were of the closed-ended, “Finding everything alright?/Can I help you?” variety, which is especially unwarranted in a store where no one knows where anything is, and everyone needs help.

OVERALL:

Trader Joe’s is new to us, and different from the other places we’re used to shopping at, for groceries - that’s part of its allure. It looks different (Caribbean motif, narrow aisles, sharp turns and small, cramped and sardine-ish claustrophobic feeling on this day), sounds different (lots of cool Paul McCartney and The Fixx and OMD and other 80′s pop music artists playing during this visit), smells different (wonderful combo of spruce, cinnamon and Sicilian cooking), tastes different (brands and foods that you will not recognize – you’re going to feel excited at the chance to discover new things and hopelessly lost in the miasma of the unknown, at times) and feels different. There was a fresh vibe and excited energy emanating from some employees, but not all. You did see some very happy engagement and familiarity from staff, with other staff. That’s typical for retail – but also makes the customer feel like they’re getting day old bread, not fresh from the bakery. On this day, most of the staff were uber-focused on tasks, which meant they too often missed opportunities to engage customers. Employees were pleasant, but didn’t always seem happy, and there’s a difference.

The bottom line: If you visit Trader Joe’s at busy times, don’t expect to get glad-handled.

Staff Interaction/Jonathan – Tuesday at 2:25pm

WHO DID GREAT:

Katy, at check-out. She greeted with a huge grin and an even bigger, “Hi! How are you?” She engaged in chit-chat about winter being here (too soon), thanked me as I left, wished me a good day and invited me back. Awesome job, Katy!

Jen, at check-out. She couldn’t stop smiling – it was so much fun to watch. The grin never left her face, as she engaged customer after customer.

Megan, at check-out. Like Jen and Katy, she was glad-handling every customer she rang up, with an ear-to-ear smile.

A blond-haired woman, at check-out. Sorry for not getting her name – she was working the register closest to the exit door, and baby, she was working it. She was smiling, engaging, glad-handling, thanking and making the last employee interaction for customers – like Megan and Jen and Katy alongside her – the most memorable.  

I’m calling Katy, Jen, Megan and Blondie, The Fantastic Four.

Jana, sampling chicken tacos at the Tempting Culinary Arts counter. Jana was The Gap friendly – I would have bought a pair of khakis from her, had she had a pair to pimp. Each time she asked a customer, “Would you like to taste a mini-taco?” her voice pitched up, and loud, in the most happy way. Two tips – first, Jana needs to smile while she’s being so insanely friendly, and second, don’t use the exact same “Would you like to taste a mini-taco?” pitch on every patron.

NEEDS MORE POLISH:

 

More employee acknowledgement of customers. There was, like the first time through, more denying of reality than you’d like to see in a store known for great customer service. Melody faced items, then walked past me and six other patrons without greeting us. Kevin made eye contact with me and other customers as we approached, looked down and away, then looked straight back up when the coast was clear. Tim fronted beside me and walked past me again later without a peep and with a bit of a frown on his face. I did three tight cart laps around a very unsmiling Tommy and Kevin, unacknowledged, as they stood in the meat area, having a somewhat unpleasant conversation about food being out of code, and not letting that happen. I stopped and asked for the time, which Tommy, a slight smile appearing, gave me. I glanced at Kevin, who looked down and away, more unfriendly than before. The pleasant store odor was also shattered, as one of them smelled very strongly of cigarettes. at which point.

OVERALL:

A smaller crowd plus fewer staff equaled more time to relax and just shop and explore, which was nice. The music – country this trip – was a bit loud, and this is from someone who believes in the power of torking the retail tunes. Employees were pleasant and a bit more likely to engage this trip, but still hurried, which made you feel almost guilty to ask for help. I’d recommend that workers follow the Marines’ motto: slow equals fast. Otherwise, staff are going to miss important opportunities to engage patrons.

There is also a sectioned-off employee area up by the “Captain’s bell,” which is rung once to inform the “crew” that another checkout register needs to be opened, twice to signal  that assistance is needed up front and thrice to tell the manager that it be them that’s needed (four times to signal that a Secret Shopper won’t stop playing with the bell). I watched 3, 4 and 5 employees gather at a time, in this area – chatting, laughing, engaging and hanging out. Nothing wrong with that. Except that when you’re a customer wandering around the place like a pirate with his eye patch on the wrong eye, you start thinking: I’m lost as sea while you scallywags play cards and drink rum - how about a little help over here?  

The bottom line: The cashiers rule!

What we learned…

1. That Trader Joe’s in WDM has some major-league, happy-flag-carrying employees who have whole-heartedly bought into their engaging, friendly culture.

2. That TJ is going through customer service growing pains that most patrons don’t notice and won’t care about, because they’re totally into the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of “new store,” “new products” and ”new vibe.”

3. That these growing pains won’t always not matter.

4. That these growing pains may continue, since the company doesn’t offer customer service training – which was told to me by Jana, the hap-happy sampler, who said that they ”just hire happy people!“ (W)right on, Jana. I subscribe to that philosophy: you can’t untrain unhappy, so start with happy. That helps create a happy culture in your store – which Trade Joe’s has.

For now (said the doubting TomJonnieas).

The hardest part is maintaining that happy feeling, 3, 6, 12 months from now, when the newness is gone, replaced by…well, oldness.

5. That “offering great customer service,” for a chain store, is the mandated expectation of the hard-working, local “boots on the ground” employees, but is often looked upon as not much more than a marketing slogan by the corporate peeps at the top. That’s one of the reasons why Alison Mochizvki, a spokesperson for Trader Joe’s, allowed Steve Batchelor, the local Trader Joe’s “captain” (store director) to be interviewed by local media in early November, but rejected my request for an interview for this review, and for The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, this Saturday morning, 8-9am on 1350, KRNT.

“We don’t let store managers do interviews, nor do we do them at the corporate level, other than the week of the grand opening,” she said.

That didn’t feel very customer servicey – but okay.

Then Alison said, “Off the record – can you tell me if there were problems?”

They clam up while I spill my guts? That didn’t feel very customer servicey II.

I told her I don’t do interviews after grand openings.

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

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Phone: 515-480-4190

 

Hello shoppers…

 

If you want to enjoy authentic Italian food without not enjoying the price of airfare to Florence ($849 round-trip, with stops in Chicago and Munich), you can:

A) Visit John Pascuzzi’s house, and pray it’s not “Taco Night.”

B) Pop the top on a can of Chef-Boy-R-Dee, put in The Godfather Trilogy DVD and dig in.

C) Eat at an Italian restaurant in Des Moines.

D) Fughetaboutit.

Those that picked “C,” follow me. The rest of you may click here, and be amused by cats.  

There are many fine Italian eateries to choose from in our fair città. One of them is a small, intimate, friendly, family-owned cozy little neighborhood joint, tucked away in an off-the-beaten-path-hole-in-the-wall-in-back-of-somebody’s-house: Olive Garden.

The OG story begins on the southwestern side of Italy in the early 1880′s. There and then, a young boy named Enrico Palazzo spent his summers with his Grandma in Viareggio, a small town on Tuscany’s western border, situated on the shores of the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Young Enrico would sit quietly for hours on a stool in his Grandma Olive’s kitchen, watching her cook, mesmerized and amazed by her ability to summon up Old World recipes from memory, recipes which had been told to her by her mamma and hers before that.

Whenever Grandma needed an onion, tomato, or fresh spice for a sauce, she’d tell young Enrico to go fetch it “out of Grandma Olive’s garden.” Enrico would enthusiastically oblige, running out the back door of her quaint cottage to the small garden behind it, basket in hand. There, he would search for the ripest, freshest plants he could find, pull them from the soil and pick them off the vine, place them in the basket, then return to his Grandma, who would chop up the fresh-picked ingredients and toss them into a large, heavy skillet, on top of which she would add others, stirring occasionally, until the heavenly aroma of the simmering sauce, wafted through the small kitchen.

Enrico would remember those days, and the recipes his Grandma Olive taught him, later in life. As he grew into a man, he began creating his Grandma’s incredible dishes on his own, from memory, much to the delight of his family and friends. Word got out about Enrico’s culinary prowess, and soon he became the toast of Tuscany, as one of the finest chef’s the region had ever produced.

In 1923, Enrico Palazzo made his way to America, and New York City, where, with the help of friends, he opened the first Olive Garden - in loving memory of his Grandma.

Actually, I’m blowing fumo up your skirt.

“Enrico Palazzo” is Leslie Nielsen, “singing” the Star Bangled Banner in the movie Naked Gun. That’s a pic of Marconi, who invented the radio, which tastes terrible. And Olive Garden was conceived by General Mills (maker of Jeno’s Pizza Rolls, Lucky Charms and Fruit Roll-ups) which opened the first OG in Orlando, Florida in 1982 outside Disneyworld, under the name The Green Frog.

But that was pretty cool for a while, wasn’t it!

Today, The Green Frog is the largest Italian restaurant chain in the U.S., boasting over 700 locations nationwide. Olive Garden’s lone Des Moines crib is at 3600 Westown Parkway in West Des Moines, and is the focus of today’s Secret Shopper review.

With dozens of other chain and mom and pop restaurants in the Metro that offer Italian cuisine, Olive Garden has some stiff competition.

Soooo how does any restaurant (or store of any kind) help differentiate itself from its competitors? Che è corretto, amiche mie: customero servicei!

In fact, General Mills thinks customer service is sooo important, they’ve stuck the idea right in Olive Garden’s branding statement: “When you’re here, you’re family.”

Familia? Cool fagioli! Sounds like we should expect a two-hour amore-fest of glad-handling and pampering and being spoiled by a swarming army of smiling, happy Olive Garden staff who can barely contain their desire to pinch our cheek, kiss our forehead and pull out our baby pictures! Unless they mean my family, which means ambivalent silence, an argument over who gets the last roll, and feeding Grandma’s (gross!) Potato Stroganoff Hamburger Helper to Mitzi, our chihuahua, when ‘Gams isn’t looking. 

Let us plan on the first one!

So how will Olive Garden’s customer service be judged? As always, it will be reviewed using the Pillars of Great Customer Service that I teach to over 1,000 employees in the Des Moines area each week, as part of The Buyosphere.

Do Olive Garden employees smile? Do they greet, with salutations and open-ended questions? Do they engage, professionally and personally? Do they thank? Does Olive Garden have a process by which they can follow up? It all sounds sooo easy.

I visited Olive Garden twice – once on a Monday, early afternoon, dressed like John(athan) Gotti; once on a Tuesday night, dressed like John(ie) Goodman.

       “Jonathan”                 “Jonnie”

 

The scoring for each visit goes a little something like this, paisan:

    

  Orribile – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Debole - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Dimenticabile – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Forte - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellare - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

     

An aside: I worked for over a year as a greeter/bus boy/customer problem solver for Rookies Sports Bar, at four of their locations. A typical five hour shift consisted of motivating/teaching/babysitting staff, calming down irate customers who asked for no ice and accidently got a cube, soaking my shirt sleeves in spilled Michelob Light, ranch dressing and ketchup, feeling my heart beating through my aching feet by hour 3 and rolling home by hour 5, smelling the way Jabba The Hut, looks.

To those who work in the restaurant biz, who think I don’t ”get” it – I get it.

Which brings us back to the question of the day: What will we get at Olive Garden, customer service-wise? Luciano Pavarotti, or Enrico Palazzo?

Let’s stop singin it, and start bringin it.

 

Staff interaction/Jonathan    

    

    

What sounded like the silky-smooth vocals of Lena Horn, welcomed me through the doors of Olive Garden just before 2pm on a pleasant Tuesday afternoon.

Joann, the greeter, greeted me with a pleasant but smile-free “Hi…one?” I said yes and gave her my name, which she passed along to Deb, who then said “Right this way” while looking that way, and led me into the restaurant. “How are you?” she asked as we walked and she looked straight ahead. We approached a table with two chairs. She pointed and, as she walked and looked away, said, still sans smile, “Enjoy.”

Nothing really wrong with how Joann and Deb did their thing. But how could it have been (W)righter?

First, smile, Joann – a big beautiful grin that immediately tells customers you enjoy working there, and they’ll enjoy eating there. Also, don’t jump right away into the left-brain “one?” details. That’s what order takers do. Professionals hover a bit, and engage - like that customer is the only one they’ve had all day. Ask your patron how they’re doing. Engage in some chit-chat. Knock down the walls that exist between people who have never met. You were busy, but you had time to spend 10 more seconds with me. Also, I gave you my name, and you gave it to Deb – now say it back to me. And Deb, you do the same. Otherwise, our name might as well be a randomly generated number at the DOT. Humanize. Personalize. Treat customers like family – like your marketing promises.

Deb, you were pleasant, but you talked to me without looking at me, and that makes your words feel less authentic. Plus, it’s hard to tell someone to “enjoy” without smiling, and expect them to think you mean it.

Retail is show business. Employees are on stage. Take advantage of that spotlight, Joann and Deb, and give ‘em a show – especially at the beginning!

I was sitting in a section with 8 tables and 3 booths. There were 15 customers in the section, who were being waited on by what appeared to be 3 servers.

One of them was Eric, who arrived 30 seconds after I did. He had a nice smile on his face, through which he said, “Hi, how are you today?” and meant it. He took my drink order, asked if I needed a few minutes, then returned a few minutes later, as promised, and asked me if I’d decided.

Eric listened to my order (smallest salad they’ve got, low-fat dressing, no cheese, no croutons – I have an upcoming cover shoot for Minor Blogger magazine) while staring straight ahead and not at me, the smile now gone from his face. I could tell he was listening, and processing, but it just doesn’t feel like someone is really connecting with us unless they’re looking us in the eye. Eric also didn’t say thank you before he walked away, which he could have.

Great retail interaction is about a hundred little things: looking customers in the eye, smiling at them, engaging them, sharing a laugh with them, thanking them at every opportunity, all executed like notes of a concerto played by a symphony. Any one note doesn’t mean that much. Collectively, when played exceptionally well, these small notes add up to a beautiful performance that brings the house down, creating an exceptional experience for the listener (customer). This is what creates customer loyalty, longevity and revenue for companies – who differentiate themselves from the competition.

While I waited for my salad, I watched other employees, close-up and at a distance.

Rory walked past my table several times. I made eye contact with him, to which he responded by looking down, and away, no smile. Karissa, same thing – she approached my table, made eye contact, then quickly looked away and never let a smile touch her face. Shannon walked to several tables with a nifty parmesan cheese grater, asking patrons if they wanted some, but doing so without letting the sides of her mouth curl upward even slightly. Remember, Shannon, it’s BEHOLD! THE POWER OF CHEESE! Not (beholdthepowerofcheese). That’s no gouda! 

Later, Shannon would smile – at Eric lol. Hey, where’s mine!  

I watched two other employees pass through the section (didn’t get their names) whose expressionless faces and body language didn’t quite suggest boredom, but didn’t immediately remind you of folks heading off to Carenevale di Venezia.  Another employee, who was busing tables, looked me square in the eye, twice, without even cracking a smile – and I was wearing a pink tie. I would have laughed.

I got up to use the bathroom and passed by Kendra, who flashed the slightest of smiles but said nothing. Later, she’d super-size it. Awesome! Now do that sooner, and more often, Kendra!

I suspect that if you asked each of these employees if they smile while they work, most of them would smile, and say yes. But the truth is that most of them didn’t, and that most employees don’t. Why? Because they’re processing – thinking about what they’re doing and how to do it. They’re not unhappy (although there are certainly exceptions). They just have “think” face. And that’s a look that no one would confuse with “happy” face.

This is the strongest point I can make about retail: customers look at the faces of employees for cues about how they’re supposed to feel about shopping/eating inside those stores. If employees look happy, then we, as shoppers, figure, hey! It must be cool beans to be happy, too! Conversely, if we don’t see a smile on employee pusses and a song in their hearts, we tend to follow suit. It makes sense – we mirror what we see/feel, as human beings. We go along to get along.

The difference between smiling employees, who appear happy, and those wearing no expression, who don’t, is the difference between a $1,000 night and a $1,200 night. Small patates? Sure. But multiply 20% more taters over 365 days and now you’re talking about some serious denaro.

Eric was money in the “quick, efficient service” bank as he brought my salad to the table.

“You didn’t want cheese?” He remembered – nice job! I said no. He left, without smiling, or saying anything else.

In front of me was a salad bowl the size of a WWII army helmet. This was “the smallest salad” they had? It looked like what rabbits must eat on Thanksgiving.

Lettuce hope they serve something smaller.

Eric returned an appropriate amount of time later, to ask, “Is everything good?” through a good smile. As I began to respond, “Yes, thank you,” he’d already started to turn towards another booth. Ouch.

Later, I watched Eric bring the check to a woman in a nearby booth. “I’ll take care of that when you’re ready,” he told her, thoughtfully. She said “Thank you” to air – Eric had quickly turned and was long gone.

In the Marines, slow is fast. In other words, be diligent – don’t rush. Same thing applies in retail. The time to make up time is not when you’re engaging a customer. That’s where employees should linger, extend their contact time. More time spent with customers = more revenue. Period.

Eric soon returned to my table, asked me if I wanted to take the remaining (1,236 pounds of) salad with me.

Nope – left my forklift at home. But thank you!

He asked the same question about what was left of my diet Coke, which I thought was very cool, and very thoughtful.

Eric brought my check, cashed me out, told me to keep the top copy, and to have a great afternoon. He also gave me this…

What a nice touch! How very thoughtful, Eric! Now do two things: Write “Jonnie” first, to personalize the message even more. And make sure you’re smiling as much as the smiley face you wrote. And here’s the 3rd and 4th thing of the two things: make sure you look your customers in the eye when you’re talking to them, and always always always thank them after each encounter, to the point of being excessive. When done with charm, grace and flair, it will never seem so. 

You cannot kill them with kindness, and they’ll love the fact that you tried.

And if you can’t serve me a “small” salad, then tell me that you can’t, because I might be offended that I ordered one, and yet still had to pay…

$8.65 lighter, and an entire head of lettuce and a signed Olive Garden card heavier, I walked past three employees at the greeting station who didn’t greet, thank me for coming in, wish me a great day or say Arrivederci! as I left.

Secret Shopper visit #1 to Olive Garden was finito.

 

Staff interaction/Jonnie    

    

    

The next day (except it was night), your Unsecret Shopper was back at Olive Garden, around 6pm. There were 10 customers ahead of me, and 3 smiling greeters greeting those who came in.

One of them was Yolanda, who, with the nicest smile, said, “Hi! How many, sir?” to me. Just one little ole blogger, thank you. “And the name?” Jonnie. “It’ll be 10 minutes, sir.” Okay. How about for Jonnie?

You know the customer’s name, Yolanda. That’s because I just told you what it was. Now use it! It’s especially effective at the very beginning, where the way you engage a customer, can set the tone for their entire dining experience. Personalize. Humanize. Energize. 

Another couple, who’d come in after me, came up to Yolanda. “Welcome to Olive Garden!” Yes, like that!! Hey…why didn’t I get one of those, Yo?!

10 minutes later, my flying saucer-shaped doo-hickey started vibrating and blinking red – either there was customer service trouble downtown and I needed to get to the Shopper-mobile, or Alexis was ready to seat me.

“Right this way,” Alexis said, without a smile, indicating the latter.

As Alexis and I walked towards my table, she turned and asked, “How are you today?” Nice job, Alexis! You looked me in the eye while talking to me – fantastic! Now add a smile, and it will make your job more fun and your customers more happy. Trust me on this one.

“Here you go,” she said, as we approached the same table I’d been taken to the day before. This must be the spot for DWD (Dudes Without Dates). “Enjoy your meal,” she said, pleasantly enough but smile-free.

“Joy” and meal” should not be said with the same facial expression I use to say ”Celine Dion” and “kidney stone.” Smile, Alexis. Seriously. I mean, un-seriously!

Within a minute, a woman approached.

“I’m Shavonne, I’ll be your server,”  Shavonne said, pleasantly but, like Alexis, without a smile.

That was okay. But what’s a better start?

“Hi, Welcome to Olive Garden! Thank you so much for coming out to see us tonight! What’s your name? Jonnie? Jonnie, hi, I’m Shavonne, and I’m going to be taking care of you tonight.”

That.

Shavonne offered to pour me a sample of some wine, which I declined. (I’m a light-weight. One whiff of an empty beer can, and I’m three sheets to the wind.) I went with the diet Coke.

A few minutes later, still pleasant, still no smile, she returned with it.

“Need a few more minutes?” 

“I would like the smallest salad you have, the smallest, with low-fat dressing. No cheese, no croutons.”

Shavonne very thoughtfully asked if I wanted breadsticks, instead of just assuming that I did. I passed – although I wanted her to bring me a truck-load full, with a half a truck a butta.

A few minutes later, she returned with enough salad to feed a family of four, inside a bowl big enough for them to swim in.

This would apparently be Olive Garden’s $8.65 version of “your smallest salad.”

“Would you like some cheese?” she asked, grater in hand, forgetting that I’d requested the formaggio-free version. The salad was also full of croutons. “Enjoy,” she said, without showing any joie (It’s French, roll with it) on her face, and left. 

No big *dealio. (*Ahhh…now that’s Italian!) But combined with the wabbit-killa salad when all I wanted was a couple leafs, I was kinda sorta gettin the feelin that I wasn’t being heard.

It takes a very large “great” experience (about the size of my salad, last joke) for us shoppers to not only remember it, but also to feel moved enough to want to tell our (Facebook/Twitter/Blog/Email/Text/Call/Smoke signal) friends about it.

Conversely, it takes only the slightest of employee slip-ups for a PO’d customer to go home, hop on the computer and start posting SOMEBODY AT BOB’S RAKE SHOP SOLD ME A RAKE THAT GAVE ME BLISTERS AND THEY SUK POST YOUR OWN BAD BOB’S RAKE EXPERIENCE AT WWW.BOBSRAKESHOPSUKS.COM!! blasts.

Nothing that Shavonne did was bad. There are just lots of opportunities for her to make it good, great, fantastic, colossal, STUPENDO! And STUPENDO is what will put more money in your pocket and more smiles on Atheena’s face, Shavonne.

Speaking of which, Atheena, the manager on duty that night, stepped into my section and, with a warm smile, engaged some couples about how their meal was, how their night was going. She asked, and moved on, engaging but never intruding – a nice touch!

In-between fork-fulls, I noticed other employees’ comings and goings.

Brian, another server in our section (who had recently been hired) was politely serving others but not showing as much brio as he could have. Kevin was also working in the area, with a decided lack of enthusiasm. In fact, Kevin’s schlumped shoulders, shuffling gate and frown suggested someone who had just been told to slog through the two-part, 12,036 word Kum and Go secret shopper review and then write a book report, with footnotes.

Using my feet, I walked up to him and asked him where the bathroom was. Kevin took two steps, pointed and began describing where it was, towards the entrance – until we both spotted Atheena, off to the left, at which point Kevin took 10 more steps, around a corner and then pointed straight ahead at the nearby potty.

Good call, kid.

I also watched Kurt, a chef, bring out a beautiful bowl of pasta that he had, presumably, just created. Yet as Kurt placed it on the table in front of the smiling customer, he did so without the pride and joy you’d expect from someone who had not only just created a culinary masterpiece, but now had the pleasure of personally serving it to a hungry and grateful patron.

In fact, Kurt’s unsmiling face and body language suggested his arms hurt from carrying a bowl that weighed as much as my s-

Fughetaboutit.

I also watched Beth, another server, walk through the section many times, smile-free. Waiting tables is hard work, for sure, and that’s understood. The one time my glance caught hers, she looked down, and away. Understood II – that’s how we tend to roll as human beings, when we look someone in the eye who we do not know.

That’s the great part about smiling, saying “hi” and getting to know people, Beth.

It wasn’t that Beth (who is a pharmacy student at Drake) or the other servers and employees looked unhappy. She just didn’t look like someone who was really enjoying what she was doing. That’s okay if you’re shoveling hog flop (hogs do smile, but don’t seem to care if we do) but not as effective if you’re serving Five Cheese Ziti al Forno to people who expect you to be as happy to serve them food, as they are to eat it.

That changed later, when I engaged her. (“You look like someone I know. What’s your name?”) At that point, Beth’s face lit up with the most beautiful ear-to-ear sorriso you’ve ever seen. Awesome, Beth! Now flash that search-light of a smile before a customer says a peep to you, and they’ll fill your pill bottle-shaped piggy bank to the rim.

The customer service stud of the night – and of both visits – was Yancy.

I watched this joyful, happy, engaging, endearing breath of fresh air come bouncing into the section. (Your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to her). Each time, without fail, she’d be smiling, a twinkle in her eye - whether she was engaging a customer in banter, or slogging leftovers, or getting change, or cleaning. It didn’t matter. Yancy simply had, and has, that indescribable, indefinable, undeniable talent that is soooo rare in the world of retail.

She’s happy.

I’m not a betting man (read the Secret Shopper review of Prairie Meadows) but I’d wager that Yancy makes as much in tips as anyone who works at that Olive Garden. Just a guess. Other servers are doing a good job. Yancy left “good” in the parking lot. That girl’s got it goin on.

I engaged Yancy (to see her name tag). She stopped, smiled, beamed, engaged, laughed, thanked me and told me to have a good night -like we’d been neighbors for 10 years, instead of people who’d just met.

You’re a rock star, Yancy!

I’d worked my way through most of the lettuce when Shavonne returned.

“Would you like more salad?”

“No, I’m good.”

“I’ll bring the ticket for you.”

That was fine. But it felt rushed. Lavonne could have asked me if I wanted something else, offered me more soda or simply let me be. Instead, it seemed like she wanted to turn the table. If true, that’s understandable. Servers make their money by turning, churning and burning. 

One way to help avoid having a customer misunderstand or misinterpret or jump to conclusions is to smile more, engage more, use their name and get to know them, as a friend. What Shavonne did wasn’t wrong – it just wasn’t as (W)right as she had the ability to make it.

That’s the wonderful thing about Shavonne and the rest of the Olive Garden staff that I saw - there is tremendous opportunity and upside for all of them.

Shavonne returned with the check, and I paid it; she thanked me and told me to have a good night, with the first sign of a smile I’d seen from her. See! There’s that upside!

As I walked towards the doors, there was a crowd of 30-40 people around the entrance, waiting to be seated. Yolanda was still smiling, skillfully handling the overflow crowd. Another woman, Sierra, was leaning against the greeter’s podium, yawning and fidgeting, like a bored kid who couldn’t wait to go home.

Me first – and away I went.

 

Overall:

The great news for Olive Garden?

1. They have Yancy.

2. They have a very hard working staff.

3. They have a beautiful restaurant.

4. They have a great location.

5. They have great food.

6. I’m sure they have other great things that I don’t know about.

What I do know – based upon my two experiences - is that the customer service has some catching up to do. It’s not bad, just inconsistent. It’s also not great, just average – with occasional moments that dip below that. 

Italians (according to an Italian friend) believe there is no average. It’s either buono, or el poopo.

They’re (W)right as rain.

In this economy (as I say to trainees till they nod off), average customer service means loss of revenue. Shoppers today demand more, and know we can, because we have more choices – in this case, over 30 more Italian restaurants, plus Mexican, plus Chinese, plus burger joints, plus boiling a box of Barilla and soaking it with Ragu, plus going without and calling it good.

There is no more competitive category than food.

Toss in the powerful Olive Garden marketing machine, and the difference between the promise OG makes (“When you’re here, you’re family!”) and the customer’s reality, is the difference between thriving through economic downturns, and surviving through the good times.

My advice is to have every employee watch the wedding scene in The Godfather (with a few strategically placed edits), and take note of what great customer service is about. There is much food, much dancing, much celebrating, much music, much joy and much love.

Talk about “family”…

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Facebook page    

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Click to be taken to Jonnie’s blog    

Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190 

 

(This is the first in a series of reviews of organizations that provide social services.)

Hello shoppers… 

 

 

“The majority of people who are in social work, lost their compassion a long time ago. If someone at DHS smiled and said ‘hi,’ I’d (expletive deleted) my pants.” -Polk County DHS employee, who asked to remain anonymous 

The idea of creating a government agency that protects “the health, safety and welfare” of Americans, was first proposed by President Harding, in 1923. It only took a few more years - 36 – and not much red tape at all to officially create The Department of Health, Education and Welfare, in 1953. The “education” part eventually outgrew the other two things and went off on its own, in 1979, leaving behind the renamed Department of Health and Human Services.

Today the DHHS oversees over 300 programs, including:

• Health and social science research
• Preventing disease, including immunization services
• Assuring food and drug safety
• Medicare (health insurance for elderly and disabled Americans) and Medicaid (health insurance for low-income people)
• Health information technology
• Financial assistance and services for low-income families
• Improving maternal and infant health
• Head Start (pre-school education and services)
• Faith-based and community initiatives
• Preventing child abuse and domestic violence
• Substance abuse treatment and prevention
• Services for older Americans, including home-delivered meals
• Comprehensive health services for Native Americans
• Medical preparedness for emergencies, including potential terrorism.
• Funding for struggling bloggers

You can read more from the official DHHS site, other than what I’ve already copied and pasted, by clicking here.

The DHHS is a good-sized ”big box store” in the U.S. Government’s chain. It is staffed by 67,000 employees (out of a total of 2 million government workers – about the same as Walmart) who operate the 2nd largest Federal Government agency (by money allotted) on a shoestring annual budget of $78 Billion (in 2010 dollars, since that’s what year this is).

The (bureaucratic) Kingfish, The Department of Defense, has $687 Billion to play with, by comparison.

Here’s a helpful pie chart I just drew, which lists the different federal agencies and the percentage of the Federal Government’s $3.55 Trillion total budget they’ll consume, in 2010:

There are a few extra dollars here and there that are also part of the DHHS budget - like $740 Billion in Medicare and Medicaid payments. These payments are what are known as ”mandatory spending,” which means that any politician who tries to make them un-mandatory will mandatorily die.

An operating budget twice the size of Walmart’s annual revenue + a workforce roughly the size of Hy-Vee’s = the focus of today’s Unsecret Shopper review. Specifically, I Secret Shopped the Polk County offices of the Iowa Department of Human Services.

The DHS isn’t a store. It’s not competing with Kmart. The Six Pillars of Great Customer Service don’t apply.

That said, what does, from a customer service standpoint? 

Should DHS employees be expected to smile? Be engaging? Should the people who use DHS services, expect kindness? Compassion? Do they have a right to complain if they don’t get it? Like my grandma said when I mentioned that her homemade cookies “were a little dry.”: “How’d ya like the price, kid?”

Here’s something else that someone else said:

“The value of compassion cannot be over-emphasized. Anyone can criticize. It takes a true believer to be compassionate. No greater burden can be borne by an individual than to know no one cares or understands.” -Arthur Stainback, Baptist Minister

Let us establish a few things that most of us would (almost certainly hopefully probably) agree with:

1. The “social safety net” is chronically over-burdened.

2. People who work in social work are over-worked and under-paid.

3. People who work in retail are over-worked and under-paid.

Social work finds a kindred spirit in retail? Maybe the Pillars of Great Customer Service should apply.

Speaking of applying, I decided early on that I was not going to fill out an application for assistance. This created some interesting challenges during the process. 

Why the hesitancy? If I told the financial truth on the application, I figured no one would see me. If I lied, I’d be committing fraud.

Instead, my story is that I recently lost my job, I’m desperate, and need food assistance, but I have questions about the application process, and want to see someone before I fill anything out.

So yes, I still lied, just not in writing.

I called several DHS numbers several times, and visited Polk County River Place (which houses the main DHS office, plus other government agencies) at 2309 Euclid, and the Family Medical, FIP (Family Investment Program) and Food Assistance Office (also known as “Income Maintenance Services”) at 1900 Carpenter.

I won’t grade my experiences with masks, as I would, was this a typical Secret Shopper review. Instead, I’ll try to give you a sense of my journey through the DHS matrix, and how DHS employees interacted with me along the way.

Someone who suddenly finds themself in tough financial straits, who is confused, scared and desperate? That’s a real-life scenario for many of the thousands of people who pass through the doors of the Iowa Department of Human Services every year.

How would the DHS handle one of them?

By phone:

Main DHS office, at 2309 Euclid - 725-2600:

(Calls were made over a period of two weeks)

1st call: (automated answer, then on hold 13 minutes) “Iowa Department of Human Services.” (The voice sounded bored and almost angry – not the kind of greeting someone wants to hear after being on hold nearly a quarter of an hour.)

2nd call: (after 2 rings) “Iowa Department of Human Services, this is Bridgette.” (Answered pleasantly enough)

3rd call: (after 1 ring) “Department of Human Services.” (Pleasant)

4th call: (automated answer, then on hold 17 minutes) “Department of Human Services, Bridgette speaking.” (Not sounding terribly happy)

5th call: (after 3 rings) “Iowa Department of Human Services.” (Sounded rushed and very busy)

6th call: (automated answer, then on hold 15 minutes, then phone was picked up, heard someone talking to someone else on other end, then they hung up)

Overall: 

I would recommend more consistency in the way the phone is answered, not only in verbiage but in tone of voice. There is certainly room for “What can I help you with?” or at least “Where can I direct your call?” This initial contact point would seem to be one of the most important, since it is a likely first step for most people who are just beginning their journey into the DHS system. While it’s understood that Bridgette (or whoever else answers the phone) is extremely busy and is working hard, it’s equally important to note that the people who are calling in are probably not in the best place, and so need and deserve more compassion and kindness.

Having said that, kudos to Bridgette for doing a good job of problem-solving, on several occasions. While you didn’t sound happy, you were patient and helpful, and said “you’re welcome” after I thanked you. It’s a thankless job, Bridgette – so thank you.

Family Medical, FIP and Food Assistance Center, at 1900 Carpenter – 286-3555:

1st thru 9th calls (over a period of two hours): Busy signal

10th call: (87 rings before being answered) “Department of Human Services, this is Rhonda, can I help you?” (Very pleasant and kind!)

11th call: (2 rings) “Human Services.” (Short, impatient and unpleasant)

12th call: (73 rings before being answered) “Department of Human Services.” (Monotone, emotionless and robotic)

13th call: (1 ring) “Department of Human Services, this is Rhonda, can I help you?” (A different day, yet still pleasant, still kind, still sounding like she cares – awesome!)

14th call: (96 rings) “Human Services” (Not happy to be answering the phone)

15th call: (7 rings) “Department of Human Services, this is Rhonda, can I help you?” (Spot-on kind and pleasant – incredibly consistent!)

Overall:

Rhonda is a rock star – and not just on the phone (as you’ll read a bit later on).

During my conversations over the phone with Rhonda, I explained to her that I had questions about the application, and wanted to talk to an advisor first, on the phone, before I proceeded. She asked me what questions I had, but I was adamant – I needed to talk to an advisor. Rhonda was equally firm – polite, but firm. Without an application, I couldn’t get in.

On the third try with Rhonda, she encouraged me to come in and at least fill out my name, address and phone number, that that would get me in front of someone. Fair enough. Again, she was always patient, kind and helpful.

After explaining my situation to another woman who answered the phone, I did manage to break through. “I’ll connect you to one of the trainers,” she said. I got the voice mail of Cindy O’ Brien, and left a message for her that explained my situation, and that I needed her to get back to me. I left my cell number, but never heard back from her.

The only thing I’d change about Rhonda’s greeting is the closed-ended “Can I help you?” People who call in certainly need your help, Rhonda, so use that knowledge to engage them with a nice, open-ended “What can I help you with?” question. Also, try “My name is Rhonda” instead of “This is Rhonda.” I know you answer a ton of calls, but try it, and see if it feels a little more personable.

As for the other hard-working people who answer the phone - listen to Rhonda. As for the large number of rings it sometimes took to get to a live person – all I can say to people calling in, is to be persistent, and don’t take it personally, because the people on the other end are working very hard, and will get to you.

In person

Main DHS office, at 2309 Euclid in the Polk County River Place complex:

There was no one standing in line at the main desk as I approached it. Bridgette was sitting behind it.

“Can I help you?” she asked, unsmiling, monotone and bored, like she didn’t care if she could, or if I needed it.

I explained that I’d just lost my job, that I was “in a bad place,” and needed some help. As I explained my plight, Bridgette put her elbow on the counter and leaned her head slightly against her hand, as if she could barely tolerate having to listen to me.

She told me that I would need to go to 1900 Carpenter and fill out an application for food assistance, then quickly turned away, dismissing me. I stood there a moment and then said, “I walked all the way here. Before I walk all the way over there, are you sure there’s nothing I can fill out here, just so I don’t have to come back?”

“No, that’s it.” she said, without looking up.

I noticed that another woman, Maggie, was sitting to the left of Bridgette, by a Child Care Assistance sign. I moved over and stood in front of her. She was working on something but looked up after a half-minute and said “hi” through a slight smile. Maggie did a nice job of explaining that I needed to fill out forms for child care assistance (for my seven-year old son) and that it would take 30 days before I could qualify.

I thanked her. She said “um-hum.” I left.

Overall:

I couldn’t begin to guess how many phone calls you answer in a day, Bridgette, how many people you wait on, how they are suffering, in a bad place, how many of their sad faces you must look into, how many of the same questions you get asked, over and over. 

I can’t begin to imagine.

What I can imagine is the way I felt going into that building - it was hard. It brought up memories of when I had to go on food assistance, years ago, in some lean days between radio jobs.

It was made harder by my interaction with you, Bridgette. 

Next time, please give a little bit more of yourself. Ask “What can I help you with?” instead of the less-caring “Can I help you?” Pay attention to the people who are in front of you – they want it, need it, crave it, deserve it. Thank them for coming in. Wish them good luck. Toss them a smile.

Overall, give more of your compassion and attention and engagement and love. Do it for those of us who have family members and friends who will come to you, seeking help. Do it because it’s the right thing to do. And do it, most of all, because you are a hero – you, too, Maggie. You are both on the front lines, fighting a battle in a war we’ll never win, but can’t stop fighting.

We thank you for being there. We thank you so much.

Family Medical, FIP and Food Assistance Center, at 1900 Carpenter

There was only one person in line in front of me when I walked into the building, and they were finished by the time I got up to the glass partition that separates the DHS clerical staff working in the “intake” area from people who are there, seeking help.

The woman at the counter greeted me with a slight smile and a nice ‘hi.”

I handed her the first page of the application for assistance, which I’d filled out with my name, address and phone number only, as per Rhonda’s instructions. I explained to her that I had questions before I filled out the rest of it, that Rhonda had told me on the phone to just give that basic info, and someone would see me.

The woman replied, “That was me,” and smiled slightly again, taking the page from me. “Have a seat. Someone will come out and get you as soon as possible.”

The wait time was about an hour, which I thought was completely reasonable. The waiting area had 30 chairs in it, of which 10 were occupied, so I suspect I was there on a relatively slow day.

As I sat, I observed some things that surprised me.

The people, who were waiting, seemed in fairly good spirits. Some looked bored, sure. But many talked, smiled and laughed. It was not like being at a funeral. DHS employees would occasionally open up a door and call out someone’s name, and that person would get up and walk back to a set of cubicles on the other side of the main wall, exchanging pleasantries as they did so.

The DHS employees working behind the glass also seemed happy, for the most part.

An hour later, the door opened and Susan Krahenbuhl’s head popped out from behind it.

“Jon?”

It was my turn.

She didn’t introduce herself to me as we walked back towards her cubicle, didn’t shake my hand – didn’t say anything.  

As we sat down at her desk, Susan looked down at my application instead of at me, and said, “Rhonda mentioned that you had some questions about the application.”

I asked her about the process, about how long it would take to get food assistance. Susan answered my questions, looking up at me on occasion.

She then did something I thought was very subtle, and very cool: she simply started asking me for the information that I hadn’t written on the application.

Susan didn’t ask me why I was so hesitant to fill it out. She didn’t make me feel bad about not having done so. She just moved the process forward, by asking me the questions that needed answered.

It was a beautiful thing to watch.

Susan didn’t smile while she did this, didn’t use my name and didn’t always look me in the eye. Those are things she can work on. She was also patient, persistent and kind, and obviously cared about me, and my plight. Those are things she has down pat.

It was time to tell her the truth.

Susan was surprised, of course, when I told her that I was an under-employed blogger, not an unemployed lumberjack (okay, “Cable TV salesperson”). She also flashed the first smile I’d seen from her.

Susan has a Master’s Degree in Social Work, has been with DHS for three years, and follows a very simple philosophy, when it comes to how she treats the people she sees.

“I hope I don’t ever have to be in this situation. But if I do, I’d want someone to treat me with respect.”

Susan also told me that DHS staff members “don’t get trained on customer service,” but that they do look for candidates “who are good with people, or who have a background in sales or customer service.” 

That avenue appears to be paying off.

She also mentioned that Rhonda is about to join her ranks.

“Her last day as clerical staff is Friday,” Susan said through a smile. She’s been promoted to income maintenance worker – which is what I am.”

Congratulations, Rhonda! It looks like you’ll be surrounded by caring, engaging people, just like you.

As I shook Susan’s hand and thanked her for being so kind to me, I suddenly realized that the DHS appeared to be doing what I’ve been telling clients to do for years.

Hire happy. Train skills.

It was an epiphanal moment, in a day filled with many.

I walked back out through the waiting area, but decided to walk up to the counter just one more time, to see if I could get engaged by one more DHS employee.

A woman – who turned out to be Connie – took her time looking up at me from where she sat, then stood up and, like helping me was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, slowly walked over to me.

“Hi,” she said through a grimace. “Can I help you?”

I missed Rhonda already.

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Facebook page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Twitter page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s blog    

Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190 

 

Hello shoppers…

…and welcome to Part 2 of the Secret Shopper review of Des Moines area Walgreens – our country’s largest drugstore chain (Click here to read Part 1) and the 3rd largest thing with the word “Wal” in it (after the obvious, and The Great Wal(l) of China).

Walgreens, like chain stores that have graced the secret shopping pages of this blog before - Casey’s and Kum and Go, to name a few - faces the challenge of trying to hire people who have the same passion for their store as Charles Walgreen had for his when he opened the first one, in Chicago, in 1901.

Good luck with that.

Owners want clones of themselves; they usually get faded copies, and make due. That doesn’t make their employees bad people, just normal people who are less inclined to bust their tails because, hey, that ain’t their name on the side of the joint.

The employee standouts who do take ownership - the ones who consistently smile, greet, engage and thank customers – are usually happy, thoughtful people to begin with. In those cases, the HR people simply lucked out (with a lot of help from strong management, support from ownership, and an indescribably effective Buyosphere Training Program.)

Yep. You got glad-handled this morning at The Pancake Emporium because the hiring person picked resume #127 instead of #9 – you lucky flapjack!

How lucky were the last 6 Walgreens you’re about to read about?

First, a quick peek at the scoring criteria:

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

 

An even quicker peek at the scorer:

A look at what the scorer (and the store owner) wants to see:

And what we’d all like to avoid: 

Retail, to paraphrase Forest Gump, is like a box of zombies; you think you know exactly what you’re going to get but sometimes you’re surprised because some of them haven’t been infected with whatever virus makes employees stare numbly at the floor while they mumble, “Will there be anything else?”

Would there be pleasant (and perhaps not so much) customer service surprises at the remaining Walgreens locations?

Put your smile on, plan on seeing plenty but bring your copy of Zombie Killing For Dummies, just in case.

(Stores are in the order they were shopped.)

Walgreens 6200 Merle Hay Road

    

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling Walgreens, this is Carolyn, how can I help you?” (Pleasant, but slow it down a bit and add a smile, Carolyn!)

Comments:

They’d had a spill in the perfume aisle as I entered and began perusing, but Kelly was handing it with aplomb: “Excuse my mess. Just busted some perfume.” Kelly said it with a big smile; that’s the way you want to see someone handle retail misfortune.

Kelly then asked the misfortunate, “Can I help you find something?” I said “No, just looking.” Conversation over.

Those 3 words should be heard in an employee’s ear as these 22: I’m shopping for something but I’m not sure what that something is and could sure use someone’s expertise in helping me decide.

What’s the (W)right response? Well, tell me what you might be looking for and maybe I can help. If the shopper still insists they’re looking, then let them look. But more often than not, you’ll get the admission that, yes, they could sure use a hand. That guarantees that the employee won’t abandon them, as Kelly did. She was nice about it, but really should have hung around, and at least said “thank you” or “enjoy your shopping” before she walked away.

At the pharmacy counter, Erron (sorry if I misspelled it) was with another customer, and said, smilelessly, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” No problem – but saying it with a smile makes the minute seem like 10 seconds, Erron. Flash those pearly whites, you insanely happy pharmacist!

Aaron (no relation), another pharmacist, then came up to me and said, “Can I help you” without looking at the “you” who was me, thus making it feel like he wanted the answer to be “no.”

Aaron did do a very nice job of coming out from behind the counter and taking me to the Alli (which I needed, because October-December is Nacho Season). He also followed up with a very nice, “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Nice job on asking the extra question! Now give it more polish by, instead, asking the extra question this way: “What else can I help you with?” It doesn’t assume the transaction is over, just idling its car engine while the shopper decides what road (aisle) to travel down next.

And don’t forget to smile and thank before you run off, Aaron.

Next it was on to pencils and notepads, where Melvin wrote me off for 5 minutes from 5 feet away. I was about to head for greener customer service pastures when I stopped, turned and said, ”You look familiar.” (I wanted to get his name.) Melvin smiled slightly, and said, “I’ve worked at 86th, Southeast 14th, Ames, all over,” and went back to stocking.

Awesome. Maybe they’ll engage me over there. See ya!

I call that denying the shoppers reality, Melvin; it makes us feel like a smoke signal on a windy day. You’ve got to engage the person who has taken time out of their busy schedule to set foot inside your store, your aisle and your airspace.

I’m sure you’re a friendly guy, Melvin. Now show it.

I headed to the photo department to see what might be developing – and it was Richard, who said a “hi” without a smile, and a “Can I help you?” without really sounding like he wanted to. He expertly answered my question on film development, but didn’t offer a thank you at the end, and remained in frown mode.

Stores, like the economy, have trends; this one was “trending down.”

Eric had a chance to turn things around. He walked behind a counter where I was standing, looked at me…then looked away and said nothing.

The slide continued. I slid out the door.

Overview: Kelly was the only employee I ran into who looked happy, and she was cleaning up spilt perfume.

Walgreens 3030 University

1/4    

Phone greeting: “(Indecipherable) John, how may I help you?” (Monotone and uber-rapid-fire delivery; that’s not a phone greeting, that’s an auctioneer’s call. Slow down your pace, especially on the phone, especially especially when you might be talking to someone calling in to refill their prescription-strength Metamucil.)

Comments:

I entered and walked past check-out slooowly, which didn’t impress Andre, who was customer and greeting-free. Andre, that’s no problem if you’re ringing somebody up; otherwise, give that incoming patron a nice “Hi” and “How are you?” It will set a great tone for the rest of their experience.

Lewis made me feel a bit more welcome at the photo processing counter. He first told me he’d be right with me and then asked if I was picking up. I responded, “Yes. Naked photos for Brandstad, Terry.” Then for real I asked if they could process a 20 year-old roll of exposed film.

Lewis began to explain why it would or wouldn’t work while he continued to work on a photo processing job, looking at his work 70% of the time, and me, the other 4%. After he was done “engaging” me, he turned back to what he was doing (which required very little turning, since he was already turned that way) and continued his left-brain task. No “Have I answered your question?” No “Thank you for asking.” No “Have a nice day.” No “Give my regards to Chris.”

Hopefully I don’t have to tell you why that totally blew, Lewis, and what you can do to unblow it next time. 

But since that’s my dealio, here’s me, dealin it.

The tasks that employees are assigned to do are important. But without customers, there would be very little need for a Picture Developer, Unexposed Film.

Lewis, admit that you can’t multi-task – no man can. I’ve seen a woman put on mascara, eat a burrito and drive a fork-lift while burping a baby and hand-washing panty hose in Woolite, but we dudes? We’re just not built like that. Actually no one is. So regardless of gender, give your full attention to the customer in front of you, and let go of the tasks at hand. Plus there’s no excuse not to thank someone at that point – none.

I engaged Lewis at that point (to get his name), mentioning that I recognized him, and had perhaps run into him at this store, or another he may have worked at.

“I hope it was good then, too,” he replied, then went back to picture making

Emily, behind the pharmacy counter, amped up the store’s denial of reality factor by a factor of 10 as she looked right at me, unsmiling, then looked away.

That’s gonna leave a mark.

Shannon, another pharmacist, approached next; she asked, smile-less and joy-free but decidedly open endedly, “What can I help you with?” Shannon thoughtfully took me to the locked-up Alli, asking Jack, an employee nearby, to open it. I said, looking at Jack, that I first just wanted to see the price.

I turned back towards Shannon. ”I have a few questions, if you-”

She was 25 feet away.

“…had just a moment.”

Gone.

Guess not.

Shannon, hopefully I don’t have to explain why…Shannon? Shannon??

Never mind.

Having had enough glad-handling for one day, I headed towards the check-out counter, where fate would intervene. 

For some reason, I decided to take one more quick pass past the photo area. There, I saw Daniel, who was right on the other side of the counter and obviously having a personal conversation on the store’s phone.

“…been here working 15 years, shouldn’t have to…” I wasn’t eavesdropping: He was right there.

So was I, which Daniel finally noticed. “I’ll have to call you back,” he said, and hung up.

Now what do you suppose Daniel said to me at that point?

Was it…

A) “I shouldn’t have taken that call, forgive me. It’s just that my best friend was having some problems…how can I help you today?

B) “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I love my kids, but sometimes…you know. (laugh) What can I help you with?”

C) “Can I help you?”

Please email your guess to: itwasC@theunsecretshopper.com

I asked Daniel about flash drives, which he dutifully showed me without flashing a smile. Then that was it. No thank you. No nutin.

I took one more pass through the center of the store on my way to the check-out counter, and heard an employee up at check-out, from 30 feet away and quite clearly, say, “I thought this day was gonna go by fast.”

You, too?

At the check-out counter, Jack greeted politely: “Hello, sir. How are you today? I had already aged 20 years, and the ”sir” reference added another decade.

Jack did express a pleasant “Did you find everything?” and ended with a “Thank you, have a nice day,” both said to the cash register, and the front door, respectively.

Sorry, I’m being picky. That experience deserves pickiness.

Overall: Jack did some nice things, but this store has issues – that can be rectified.   

Walgreens 4415 Douglas

3/4    

Phone greeting: “(Indeciperable) Beaver and Douglas, can I help you?” (I know where you’re at, but who’s at where this is?)

Comments:

This was the first Walgreens where the bathroom was locked and you had to ask to be let in - at least the first one I noticed.

I understand security issues, vandalism problems, vagrancy, customers sneaking a bottle of 409 into the can, cleaning it top to bottom and then leaving (I HATE that!) and all those other reasons that stores lock down their restrooms. That doesn’t take away from the humiliation of being north of 7 years old and having to ask to go potty.

The pharmacist obliged, getting Matt to let me in. The same pharmacist (didn’t get her name) brought Matt back to show me where the Alli was at. Matt did both tasks diligently, but didn’t really say anything to me, either time.

I came back and began browsing toothbrushes when Sabrina, very quickly and pleasantly, asked the less pleasant “Anything I can help you find?” Sabrina, you were nice, and attentive; now just add some polish by using an open-ended question, greeting with a sweet salutation before it, and giving a nice thank you at the end.

I approached Jacquel’s area and began looking at merchandise. Frowning, she turned and said, “Looking for something?”

A smile outta you, young lady. Jacquel, I bet your grin lights up the room, when you flash it. However, at this point it’s just a theory. So go out and prove it, okay?

The same sort of scowl was plastered on the face of another pharmacist (who didn’t have a name tag – one of four employees without one). Another employee entered the store as I walked up to the checkout counter, and looked as miserable as some of the others who were already there.

Diane, at checkout, said, without cracking a smile or looking at me, “Hello. Find everything okay?” I’m looking for a smile…is every employee a Cub’s fan?

Overall: Sabrina had a nice, friendly vibe, and has the potential to be a customer service stud.

Walgreens 104 East Euclid

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling Walgreens. This is Michael, how can I help you?” (Pleasantly delivered, easily understood. Now toss in a bit more smile! )

Comments:

I entered and immediately walked back to the pharmacy counter, where Elizabeth was Eddie Van Halen on the customer service guitar, riffing through a “Hi!” “How are you?” “How can I help you?” with a huge smile on her face, which made it feel like she meant every word, because she did. :) Awesome job, Elizabeth!

At another pharmacy counter, Lisa kept the niceness going with a slight smile and a pleasant “Hi. Can I help you?” Good job, Lisa. Now trade that closed-ended question in for a stronger, open-ended, “What can I help you with,” and you’ll be rockin the house, too.

Adam (I think – didn’t quite see the nametag) walked past me and said a quick “hello” without a smile, but pleasant.

Scott – who is the store manager – said nothing to me as he rolled a cart past but did engage me later when he caught me writing notes about the store. Busted!

I decided to tell him why I was there, and what I was doing. Scott smiled, and talked about Walgreens’ customer service training program, which is ongoing, he said. Scott was obviously proud to work at Walgreens, although he didn’t seem terribly interested in me or what I did. That’s cool – I bore myself sometimes.

I don’t want to beat you up about it, Scott – just don’t miss that grand opportunity to really get to know someone in your store, whether they’re a real customer, or someone posing as one. You never know when you might be able to get the latter to become the former.

Lisa, at the photo counter, acted like she wanted just that; she greeted me with a very pleasant, “Hi, how are you?” and the not quite as much, “Can I help you?”

Help counter+helpful employee+helpless customer= never having to ask Can I help you? I’m terrible at math, but hopefully that adds up, Lisa.

There was a bit of a line at the checkout counter, so someone whose nametag I didn’t see, picked up the phone, paged “I-C-3, I-C-3, service at front register, service at front register,” then hung up the phone with the proper force to pound a nail, but a bit more than necessary to disconnect the line.

Never let ‘em see you sweat, kid.

Nick had a nice but unsmiling “hi” for me as he rung me up, then asked a really clunky, closed-ended “Is that it?” This is one to really avoid, Nick, because it can be so easily misinterpreted by the consumer as “Is that all you’re buying, cheapskate?” Of course, you don’t mean it that way (although, sure, I could have dropped more than 89 cents on a Kit-Kat) but it can sometimes feel that way.

Avoid all that goop, by asking, “What else can I get for you?”

Nick thanked me at the end, but said it to the ground, diminishing its authenticity. I’m up here, young man!

Overall: Elizabeth, you got it goin on, girl. You were awesome!

Walgreens 2545 East Euclid

  

Phone greeting: (slight pause) “…I’m looking at your schedule, and I don’t…” (to someone else) then hung up. (Uhhhhh…uhhhhhh…the Unsecret Shopper is rendered speechless.)

Comments:

Martha, who was scanning stuff in the razor aisle, 20 feet away from me, got the parrrty – to quote CC Music Factor - started right, AND quickly, by shouting out the most wonderful “Hi, how are you?” when she spotted me.

Who needs the 10 foot retail rule? Not Martha. Nice job!

She also followed it up strong after some chit-chat, with, “Anything I can help you with, just let me know.” And said it three times! Somebody get a defibrulator in the shaving aisle! Martha’s killing a customer with kindness!

Speaking of killing, that’s kinda what happened to the mood when Kyle, at the pharmacy counter, greeted with a smile-free and not terribly enthusiastic “Hi” and nothing else. I asked my question, he pointed to the Alli behind me, said, “Third shelf,” and turned away.

Martha is going to read you the riot act, dude.

To the pharmacy I roamed, where Theresa got the train back on the happy tracks with a very nice “hello,” although it was, unfortunately, directed at the pad she was looking down at, and not at me. She flashed a very nice smile as she told me where the magazines were, but forgot the thank you at the end; a few missing pieces, but pleasant overall.

Dawn, at the photo counter, opened the conversation with a wonderfully open-ended, “What can I do for you?” said without a smile. But she made up for it with a HUGE grin at the end, after I’d thanked her.

Think of your smile as a flashbulb, Dawn, that lights up a room before the picture is taken. Now flash it all the time, and you’ll have hundreds of picture-perfect customer moments.

And I just threw up in my mouth.

Jennifer kept the smiles going as she shot one my way on her way to the checkout counter to ring me up. By the time she turned around, the battery on the flash must have died, because she was frowning as she said, “Hello. Will this be all for you?” I told her yes, she told me the price and that was it.

Ohhhhh to have that smile back, Jennifer.

Overall: Martha is a customer service rule breaker, in the best of ways. Keep up the great work!

Walgreens 2930 East University

    

Phone greeting: “(indecipherable) calling Walgreens. This is Cheryl, how can I help you?” (I struggled to understand the beginning, and the rest sounded like you were bored, which does not get me excited about the prospect of stopping in. Be happy about answering, and the customer will be happy about shopping!)

Comments:

Jessica, working at the nail polish and herbal extracts counter, ignored me as I approached, then again after she left and came back.

You are paid to do your left-brain tasks, Jessica, and I’m sure you do them well. But you make your money by engaging customers, and you’ve got to engage one as obvious as a middle aged dude looking at extracts.

I know you won’t miss me next time.

Jay made up for it with a nice “hi” as I passed by. 

Joshua preferred Jessica’s method, saying nothing to me for the two minutes I browsed toilet paper while he stocked paper towels just feet away.

A man can only gaze at 2 and 4-ply potty paper so long before arousing another man’s suspicion. Joshua finally asked, “Finding everything okay?” It was closed-ended but pleasant, and would have been even more so had he said it through a smile. Joshua did flash a grin as he talked about having worked in several cities, including Chicago.

The Windy City was an appropriate context for Josh the pharmacist’s greeting, which totally blew: “Help you?” he asked, without a smile, and without looking away from his monitor.

Whatever was on that monitor was important, and I know that. Just make sure the customer knows that they’re important, too, Josh. The monitor’s not going anywhere – but a customer might.

Just a thought.

Cam, at the photo developing counter, was more like Death Valley than Chicago, creating not so much as a puff of wind with his breath cause he said nothing to me as I stepped forward.  Cam did become more animated after I engaged him, and not only showed a huge grin at the end, but thanked me for coming in, one of the very few employees to do so, at any of the Walgreens location. Nice close, Cam!

Angel closed things out nicely at checkout, greeting me with a pleasant “Hi” through a great smile, and sending me off with a “Have a good one” as I walked out. Way to go!

Overall: After a slow start, Cam gets the nod, with a strong finish, as this store’s best.

 

The final overall, overall:

The customer service standouts at the Walgreens I Secret Shopped include Valerie, the pharmacist at 3501 Ingersoll…

 

…and Elizabeth, the pharmacist at 104 East Euclid.

  

It is no coincidence that the customer service champs also work at the highest rated stores, which are staffed by employees who consistently displayed good, solid customer service skills.

There are also others doing solid customer service work at many of the other Walgreens locations; may these reviews provide you with well-deserved recognition!

It is stunning to me that the two Walgreens’ employees who did so well at connecting with customer’s right-brain emotions, have also dedicated years of their lives to building up their left-brain knowledge and skill; it is one of the greatest takeaways from these reviews. 

May the precedent established by Valerie, Elizabeth and others, be a prescription that is taken (to heart) by each store’s staff.

Doctor’s orders.

 

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Facebook page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Twitter page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s blog    

Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190

 

Hello shoppers…

When a person got sick 10,000,000 years ago, they were treated by being hit with a rock until they stopped complaining; since we were all simple farmers back then, and because nobody could come up with a better phrase, it was called “buying the farm.”

A few years later, the first “farm”acy opened.

Eventually rocks were replaced with Darvon and Dentu-cream and strange favors of potato chips and 1-year photo labs, which got the attention of Charles Walgreen, who needed to make something cool happen because everybody in Chicago thought his last name was lame, even in 1901.

110 years and a lot of drug stores later, Chuck doesn’t care what anybody thinks, because he’s rich, and dead.

Walgreens, meanwhile, is very much alive, as the largest drugstore chain in the U.S.; its 7,500-ish locations in 50 states cash in on our unwellness to the tune of $60 plus billion annually. Yet Walgreens also offers consumer goods, which means it plays in a very large retail sandbox dominated by the fat kid whose first name is also Wal (no relation).

It would be interesting to know what percentages of Walgreen’s shoppers are there for something other than and Nembutal and Nasonex. It would be more interesting to know the percentage of Walgreen’s employees who will glad-handle a self-important blogger while he browses deodorant and contemplates Halloween candy. (Fruit roll-ups for the beggars, Reese’s mini cups for the beggey.)

We’ll go with that second one – in today’s Secret Shopper review of Walgreens.

I visited 13 Des Moines area Walgreens  (over three days), thus the 2 part cereal-ized review. (Part 2 is Friday morning, over Cocoa Puffs.) I made stops at the pharmacy, photo developing and check-out counters of each store, plus walked within whispering distance of any employee working the aisles.

Convenience and selection rule Walgreen’s crib; is there room in da’ house for great customer service?

That’s what your stuffy, achy, scratchy, sneezy, dopey Unsecret Shopper wants to find out.

I shopped ‘em like this:

We score ‘em like this:

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

 

We’re looking for this:

Would we get this?

They’re on every other street corner in the Metro, stay open 24 hours (most of them) and bank on the idea that sick shoppers shopping for Chloraseptic will also grab a bag of Doritos and a flash drive. So how much of Walgreen’s transactional success is actionably powered by employees who smile, greet, engage and thank, four of those Six simple but powerful Pillars of Great Customer Service?

You look a little pale; I’ll grab my keys, you ride shotgun (Don’t forget your coat, ya nut!) and let us see if Walgreens will happily fill our prescription for great customer service.

(Stores are in the order they were shopped.)

Walgreens 6200 SE 14th

    

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling Walgreens, this is Carolyn, how can I help you?” (Pleasant, but slow it down a bit and add a smile, Carolyn!)

Comments:

This location did okay, although it didn’t really start out that way, as Josh, at the photo counter, looked at me and thought that was enough.

As I tell all retail employees, Josh: Empty space can also ignore customers, and it works cheaper. Say hi and smile next time, okay?

Chris did better, giving a pleasant “Hi” through a slight smile; followed by the less pleasant “Did you need help finding something?”

Remember, Chris; you’ve been, to paraphrase Glen Campbell in Rhinestone Cowboy (before your time – roll with it), walkin these aisles so long; that means you know ‘em better than we shoppers, who don’t, which means we’re helpless, which means you never ever ever in your long-legged employee life ask if we need help, because we almost certainly do. 

Instead, try the kinder, gentler “What can I help you with?” That, with a “thank you” at the end and a smile throughout, will rock their world, young man.

Amanda knew what I just meant, greeting me with a big smile and even bigger “Hello!” in the aisle with hair coloring. Nice job!

I next headed to the pharmacy counter looking for Alli, the uber-expensive over-the-counter weight-loss med. Brittney smiled and engaged a fellow pharmacist but didn’t show much enthusiasm for me or my desire to maintain a supermodel’s figure, “greeting” me smile -free with the clunky, closed-ended “Can I help you?”

It is typical for employees to share their joy with co-workers and then pull the happy plug when they turn to help customers. It looks bad and feels worse to shoppers.

Brittney, I KNOW you have a huge smile; I saw you using it before I got there. Now just let it linger as you engage me, and that way I’ll feel like you’re as happy to yak with me as you were with her, even if you weren’t.  Another way to help convey that is to avoid that closed-ended “Can I help you” question at a counter specifically designed and built to help helpless people who need help. Roll instead with an open-ended “What can I help you with?” and leave that beautiful smile right where it was, and you’ll make me feel like you own the place, and not some fat cat corporate types in Illinois.

Trevor and Karolynn, at the check-out counter, followed Brittney’s lead: they smiled and engaged each other, then shut ‘er down as they silently rang up my candy bar. I was offered the price, a thank you from Karolynn after I thanked her, and that was that.

As I tell trainees, without smiling, greeting, engaging and thanking customers, you’re working your way out of a job. It is not a threat; it is a compassionate reminder of the reality of these economic times. Trevor and Karolynn, you were pleasant enough; now strive to do more than stand and scan, and you’ll endear yourselves to patrons, and guarantee yourselves a paycheck.

Overall: Amanda stole the customer service show.

Walgreens 7000 Douglas

    

Phone greeting: “Walgreens, this is Jenny. Can I help you?” (Very bright and cheerful, but the closed-ended question diminished the impact. Thank ‘em for calling, Jenny, then ask what you can help them with, since they’re obviously going to need help, otherwise they wouldn’t be calling…right? )

Comments:

Karen got the store off on the okay but could have been better foot as I approached her, saying a smile-less “hi” to the floor that was intended for me.

Yoo-hoo! I’m up here, Karen! If you look up, I promise that you will also smile, Karen, because there’s a lot on this 45 year-old body to laugh about.

Stephen showed the slightest dollop of a 100% real whipped cream smile as he approached, through which he uttered a diet Cool-whip, “Finding everything okay?”

Sweeten every shopper’s day, Stephen, by assuming they’re not finding anything, and instead asking, “What can I help you find?” Uttering that through an ear-to-ear smile will have them going up to your store manager and saying, “I just HAD to tell you what a good job Stephen is doing…”

Robert said “Hello” and looked away; that diminished its authenticity, and made me wonder if I had a stray boog. Instead of flat-out asking, I instead went with, “What are your hours?” Robert enthusiastically rattled them off, but, interestingly, without actually facing me; he instead tilted his head and body at a 90 degree angle to mine, and recited their rather convenient hours of operation.

After Robert finished, he turned, looked at me, and smiled slightly.

Cool beans, Bobby – now do that smiley, head-turney thing while you’re engaging me, and it’ll feel like you’re really engaging me.

Lisa missed me when I walked past her, twice, as she worked on some left-brain task (head on a swivel, Lisa – gotta greet those customers!) but smiled when I engaged her about where the Biore strips were (for the football player with a feminine side). She gave me one of the rare “you’re welcome”‘s in any of the Walgreens locations; now toss in your own “thank you,” Lisa, and catch me from the very beginning.

Deanne, at the pharmacy counter, gave a pleasant “hi” and a slight smile, then took me to the Alli, and thanked me at the end. Nice job, Deanne!

At check-out, Roberta said, helpfully, “I can help you over here,” then ran out of gas and good with a monotone and rapid-fire, “thankyouhaveagoodnight.”

No other way to put it – that’s called dropping the ball, Roberta. All the good will expressed by the employees before you will be completely wasted if the checker doesn’t act like they give a rat’s patooty. Conversely, if  a staff has under-performed up to that point, it’s a checker’s chance to save the day, and be a customer service hero.

You can be a hero, Roberta – believe it or not. Try the first one.

On my way out but back down an aisle first, I encountered a woman whose nametag I could not see but whose joy I could feel, as she smiled broadly and asked how I was doing. Whoever you were, you rock!

Overall: Deanne hit it out of the park, and Miss Anonymous followed with a triple off the wall. Way to represent, girls!

Walgreens 4600 86th Street

3/4    

Phone greeting: “This is Britt, how may I help you?” (Uh…is Chuck Walgreen in?)

Comments:

“Help you find anything?” was Duane’s opening salvo, with words pleasantly asked but ineffectually chosen. Duane, you can always help a customer find something. It’s WHAT they can find that they need help with. So always always always and forever ask your question, based upon this indisputable fact: “What can I help you find?”

Of course, waaaay before that, you should smile first and greet with a salutation – the first two Pillars of Great Customer Service. Knock down the walls that exist between two people who have never met THEN begin to problem-solve for the customer. You were pleasant, Duane. Now be smarter, and better.

Renae, at the pharmacy counter, was less engaging than Duane; she offered up a tepid “hi” while she looked at her computer screen (Is that how you get computers to work faster?) then pointed in the direction of the Alli, and said the aisle number - without a thank you.

Don’t wear yourself out, Renae!

She DID flash the most beautiful smile after I engaged her, which tells me you’ve got it in ya, young lady. Now use it sooner!

Brooke didn’t see me as I walked past while she stared at a photo machine. No problem – left-brain tasks gotta get done. She then looked up at me as I walked past a second time, but still said nothing, which suggests that maybe the answer ain’t in her brain.

It’s not, Brooke – it’s in your heart. (Stop your “corny” asides, readers!)

Your job is important, Brooke, but it’s a learned skill, something you were taught and thus, something anyone can learn.

Your right-brain emotive, engaging, nurturing, compassionate, loving part is a talent, something that cannot be taught and that very few people have and even fewer choose to use.

Draw upon your talent, and trust your skills to work. You’ll be a happier employee, engaging happier customers and creating a happier world that truly deserves it.

Marlene stocked a shelf in the aisle I moved down next; she didn’t see me at first, then looked my way, then looked away, then looked at another customer who was nearby, then looked away. As Marlene ignored us in stereo, the customer finally grew tired of the silence, and asked her a question, at which point Marlene became very engaging.

You can’t wait for that moment, Marlene. If you see a patron, say “hi” and ask them how you can help them; that simple question takes the heavy lifting out of their hands and puts it squarely in your capable ones, where it belongs.

I entered a check-out line staffed by Katelynn, who wasn’t smiling at anyone, particularly the female customer who was talking on her cell phone while she slooowwly reached for her checkbook. After a few minutes of fumbling she said, “I have to go to the car,” and walked away, leaving her items on the counter and a befuddled line of customers behind it.

An agonizingly slow 4 minutes later, Katelynn paged for “help at the check-out.” 5 more minutes passed just as quickly as the first, and still without a sign of help, the female customer or a tsunami to at least make things interesting.

Katelynn paged again: “20 come to front,” which we were all praying meant, ”Somebody take these cans out to the woman in the parking lot and beat her with them.”

She never returned.

Three days later Corbin came up, used his key to cancel the transaction and didn’t apologize to anyone in the line that had now grown a dozen deep as he began to usher people towards another cash register.

Katelynn, off her game before the incident, was pretty much a wreck; she didn’t greet or apologize, looked down the entire time and could only manage a tepid “thank you,” said to my receipt.

Overall: Renae was the standout in an under-performing store.

Walgreens 3501 Ingersoll

1/4   

Phone greeting: “Hi. Thank you for calling Walgreens. How can I help you?” (Nice friendly delivery but a bit too fast – and identify yourself by name. Otherwise, nice job!) 

Comments:

Things got developing at the photo lab counter, where Danny, unsmiling, said “Help you with something?” as I stared, helplessly, at the prices on the wall behind him. Danny did flash a small grin as I asked him about how likely would it be and how much would it cost to develop a very old roll of 35mm film.

“Probably some nice memories on there,” he said, very thoughtfully. That’s what I’m talking about, Danny! Engage! Engage! Engage! Now throw in a nice “Hi,” a sweet “How are you?” and an open-ended “What can I help you with?” before the engagement, and you’ll own your own photo lab.

I thanked Danny, to which he responded, “No problem.” I get your slang drift, bro’. But add a bit more polish to your response with a simple, authentic “you’re welcome.”

It’s funny how the old ways are still the best.

Jennifer took me to the Alli (under lock and key – I TOLD you this stuff is expensive) which was great, but started asking me if there was anything else I needed help with, before she’d finished helping me with the first thing; that made it feel a bit rushed. Danny, from earlier, came up and unlocked the display, while Jennifer did a nice job of explaining the product, and finally smiled at the end. Nice job, Jennifer!

I browsed mascara (I was ready with an “it’s for Halloween”) for over a minute, no more than three feet from April, who finally noticed a testosterone-dripping he-man in her midst. She turned and said, “Anything I can help you find?”

April, you can’t let a patron, especially a dude, stare helplessly at makeup products for 73 seconds without saying boo, then add verbal insult to delay injury by asking if they need help. Instead, ask what you can help me with, 71 seconds sooner.

April (who had just started there) came back with a nice, “Let me know if I can help you find anything.” Good recovery, April.

Valerie, at the pharmacy desk, uttered the 2nd most beautiful set of six words in the English language (1st being “Somebody posted your bail, Mr. Wright”): “What can I help you with?”

Ahhhhhhhh.  

But she wasn’t done. Valerie then allowed a fantastic smile to invade her face and kept it there until she said, “Have a great day!” DING! DING! DING! You da pharmacist! You da pharmacist!

Way to work it, young lady.

Arberita (sorry if I misspelled your name) continued the glad-handling, with a very pleasant “hi” through an equally nice smile and then said a “thank you” at the end, while she looked me (W)right in the eye.

I floated out of the store.

Overall: Valerie showed every biz on Ingersoll Ave how it’s done. Awesome job, Val!!! There was also some nice work by Danny, Jennifer, April and Arberita. You can tell this is a well-managed store. Great job across the board, y’all!

Walgreens 1660 22nd Street

1/2    

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling Walgreens. This is (indecipherable) how can I help you?” (You’ve got most of the right words but they were delivered monotone and rapid-fire, making it sound like you didn’t really care about helping me, and were in a rush to not care about helping someone else.)

Comments:

I started at the photo developing counter, where Jonathan (That’s the way to spell it!) wore no smile but gave good eye contact as he asked the not as good, “Anything I can help you with?”

Remember, Jonathan: Anyone coming to your counter is only there for the sole purpose of seeking your assistance. Understand that, and from that understanding, ask the much more organic and appropriate “What can I help you with?” the next time, okay?

Jonathan did a good job explaining how little of a chance there was in recovering pics from my 20 year-old roll of film; now smile throughout that explanation, Jonathan, and you’ll lessen the customer’s disappointment (and embarrassment).

At the pharmacy counter, Jillian gave me a nice but unsmiling “hi” and a not so hot “Can I help you,” delivered with all the genuineness one could expect from someone saying it to a computer monitor. Her gazed remained elsewhere as I explained I was looking for Alli, to which she responded by making eye contact with Karen, asked her to direct me where the Alli was at, then went back to her monitor.

Ouch.

Jillian, the last thing I’d ever want a pharmacist to do is to mistakenly use Zanex for a Viagra refill. (Okay, so, depending on who the ‘scrip is for, it would be kinda funny.) Having said that, it’s equally important that your customers get treated like human beings (which they are) otherwise you’re making it easier for them to stay home and order their pills online, which threatens your brick and mortar store, your counter, your job, you and the rest of us, who believe that there’s still a place for humanity in retail.

Share yours with someone other than a co-worker. 

Karen, having apparently taken engagement lessons from Jillian, pointed to the Alli aisle, said its number and said nothing else.

Ouch II.

This less than engaging attitude continued, as Kim walked past me without saying a word, but did stop when I asked her what time it was, and was nice enough to find out, and thank me.

My superpower having reared its ugly head (Darn this invisibility!) I was next ignored by Jeffrey in the candy aisle, who stocked it while I browsed it within 12, then 10, then 8 feet of him, until he made his way around the end of the aisle and around to the adjacent one, where he continued to stock. 

I was too tired to follow him; but I had a hunch…

30 seconds later, here came Jeffrey, around the corner and right at me. NOW I’d get a greeting…

“Excuse me.”

…or not. At least I knew I was back to being a recognizable human form.

After standing beside Jeffrey another 60 ticks without being hi’d, how ya doin’d or smacked upside the head with a bag of Snickers, I finally gave up and engaged him about whether Reese’s Mini Cups come in dark chocolate. (I knew the answer: perfection needeth no additional options.)

He told me he didn’t think they did and then went back to stocking.

Things got decidedly better at check-out….

Actually I’m yankin your chain - they stayed bad, with an employee whose name started with an “A” (sorry I didn’t see it). It wasn’t Apathetic, but his verbal tone, body language and overall vibe certainly qualified. He mumbled “How you doin” with his head down, told the floor to have a good day and was wearing a very pretty cross on a long chain around his neck, which, while I’m personally very much in favor of the statement and the sentiment, was inappropriate for professional attire in the workplace.

Retail is a grind. Employees work long hours, on their feet, for low wages. The work is often mind-numbingly repetitive and usually thankless.

Yet I ask trainees this all the time: At what hourly rate will you smile at customers? What salary will it take before you feel like patrons are worth engaging? What benefit will your company have to give you, to buy your expression of thanks to the people who make your paycheck possible?

Misery is as much a habit as a mandate. For those who choose to be happy, or at least pursue it, their joyous journey is available to the world for free, thus making it priceless.

Overall: Jeffrey actually had the most energetic, engaging vibe – I think he just forgot to share it, or perhaps there’s negative peer pressure in this store not to achieve. The store has a leadership vacuum, and is under-performing because of it.  

Walgreens 12753 University Avenue

    

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling your 24 hour Walgreens in Clive. This is Stephanie, how can I help you?” (Bright happy voice with a slow, controlled delivery; made it feel like she really meant it. Awesome job, Stephanie!)

Comments:

I stood within 4 feet and eyeshot of Sarah for 30 seconds before she spoke up: “Finding everything okay?” she asked without a smile, but pleasantly enough.

First, the 10 second rule is dead; customers expect immediate engagement, and when that doesn’t come, their endorphins begin to swim in the wrong direction (Introduction to Psychology, Iowa State University, 1984: D-). So get to me sooner, Sarah.

Second, if you’re going to make a customer search for half a minute unattended, the last thing you want to break the ice with is a closed-ended question. It’s bad on its own, twice as bad when delivered after a delay. Instead, ask, “What can I help you with?” That’s what pros use, the pros that make the kind of money you want to make, Sarah.

Third, above all else, bring your smile to the party, Sarah. It by itself can make customers forgive you for the times you’re not on your game.

Fair enough?

Wendy, a pharmacist, showed Sarah how it’s done, greeting me with “Hi. How can I help you?” through a slight smile, that she super-sized a few seconds later. Way to go! You could have said “thank you” to add some polish at the end, Wendy, but you shared your joy which was obviously genuine, and it was beautiful to behold. Nice job, Wendy!

Onto the photo lab I roamed, where Carrie greeted with an unsmiling “Hello”……………….then nothing; we stood there in the awkward vacuum created when an employee doesn’t follow up the greeting with a nice big fat open-ended “What can I help you with?” for a few seconds, until I asked my question. 

Carrie was pleasant and made good eye contact, forgot a “thank you” but did give a nice “have a nice day,” and really lit things up right before that when she flashed a HUGE smile in response to some dumb joke of mine. You’ve got all the pieces, young lady – now put ‘em all together, and you’ll have me buying rolls of film for cameras I don’t even own.

I walked up to the check-out, where Leonard was just finishing up a conversation on the phone. He hung up and then began telling me what he’d been conversing about before he hung up. That probably goes into the “more information than I need to know” bin, Leonard, and should be substituted for a smile, a greeting, some engaging chit-chat and a thank you.

Just a thought.

Overall: Wendi was the customer service stud. Nice job! This store has some good people with a lot of hidden energy and a ton of customer service potential. Store manager, tell them that and then turn ‘em loose!

Walgreens 15601 University

    

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling Walgreens. How may I help you?” (Good pace but delivered monotone, which removes the authenticity of the words. Add your name, and be happier when you answer – callers will love it!)

Comments:

Stephen got the customer service train rollin with a big wet “Hello!” from behind the check-out counter, as I entered – the first and only checker to so greet me. Nice job, Stephen!

Back by the reading glasses rack, I walked past a woman without a nametag several times without getting so much as a head nod.

I gave up, and engaged her:

“Do you know what time it is?”

“I don’t work for Walgreens. I work for the eyeglass company,” she replied, with the warmth of a stethoscope fresh out of the freezer.

Oh. Do they only hire people who can’t tell time?

Even if someone working in a store is a vendor, it doesn’t give them license to act like a disrespectful erk-jay. Customers see everyone who works in a store as an employee of that store – seems reasonable, even if her response wasn’t.

See if I buy my next pair of reading glasses (which would be my first pair) from you, lady!

Kristen, working behind the pharmacy counter, thawed me out with a warm “hi” and a wonderfully open-ended “How can I help you?” but sorta dropped the ball when she pointed to the aisle the Alli was in instead of taking me to it (there was no one in line behind me), then didn’t thank me as she quickly turned away and went back to doing her pharmacist stuff.

Kristen, everything you do in that pharmacy is important, even heroic, and I get that. You also seemed like a very nice person, and so I know you’ll get this: put that niceness on display in a big way by going the extra mile (30 feet), and make some clue-less dude feel spoiled. And if not that, at least thank him for coming to see you, as the one person he trusts enough in the whole place to ask where something is – something we all know that men are great at.

I next headed towards the cold medicines, where Brian offered a pleasant “hi” but not another word for the 2+ minutes I read labels while he stocked, six feet away.  I moved past him and to the other side, where he again said “hi” (which was great) but never pulled the trigger on a “What can I help you find?”

Finally I engaged him about where I might find toothbrush irradiators (something I saw on Spike TV’s 10,000 Ways To Die). He pointed at the area behind me that offered the most promise for such a product, said they used to carry them, apologized nicely for no longer having them but didn’t thank me or smile, at that point or any before it.

It’s cool as the other side of the Crest tube that you don’t have certain products, Brian; I can floss. But you can dull the patron pain associated with the lack of their instant gratification by thanking them at the end, and smiling at them throughout.

I moved onto the refrigerated racks full of dozens of brands and flavas of sodas, where my internal battle raged on for four minutes. (Sugary or calorie free? Decaf or fully leaded? The pretty yellow stuff or the cool looking blue goop?) Meanwhile, Jason, no more than 3 feet away, stocked silently. He walked past me later in another aisle without saying a word.

Engage me, Jason. Ask me how I’m doing, how’s my search for the perfect soda going, have I tried the new triple caffeinated Mountain Dew III: Arrhythmia In A Can!? Don’t miss the opportunity to get to know a customer who has chosen your store to shop in, rather than the 123 others between him and you that sell exactly what you do. A customer’s a big deal, Jason; understand that, and act accordingly. Okay?

JoAnne, working the photo counter, “got” it; she engaged me with a huge smile and equally humongous “HI!” Her smile stayed in place as we exchanged some chit-chat about my roll of 20 year old film (of Bigfoot, body surfing) that had no shot at producing pics – but she’d sure give it a try.

She ended our conversation with a great smile and a “Have a great day!” and meant it.

On my way out the door, Stephen said, “have a good day.” Back to back good wishes – great job, you two!

Overall: Joanne is a customer service rock star. Stephen is one in the making.

Friday: Part 2 - six more Walgreens, six more reviews. How will your favorite do?

See you tomorrow.

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

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Phone: 515-480-4190

 

Hello shoppers…

Walmart II: The review redux

 

Seven months ago four days from now, I wrote a Secret Shopper customer service review of a small mom and pop store in Des Moines that was struggling to keep its doors open. (Click here to read it.)

Due entirely to the massive exposure and subsequent public interest my insightful, resonant analysis generated for said insignificant and unknown merchandiser, it eked out enough revenue to keep its lights on and its payroll met.

Today, Walmart continues to limp along: 8,000 stores, 15 countries, $400 billion in annual sales,  2 million employees and they just bought the Sun. (Look for its smiley face – but not directly into it!)

What might appear equally spacey is intentionally taking another Secret Shopping orbit around Walmart’s 150,000 square footage, at 73rd and University in Windsor Heights.

Why, young Storewalker?

First, there’s what Joe Becker, Walmart’s very kind, very thoughtful store manager told me at the time, in reaction to his store’s less than stellar Secret Shopper review: (Click here to read more of his response.) 

“We’re not where we want to be yet – we’re not where I want us to be,” he said back in March. “Obviously our number one goal is to meet and greet every customer that comes through the door, which is so important because it’s easier to keep the customers we have than to go find new ones.” 

Straight up, right on, Amen, whoo-whoo, ditto.  

Joe said he was going to share the review with his employees.

“The key is to use this feedback to get better.”

Cool training beans; that’s the goal.

Joe also suggested that the huge remodeling project taking place at the time may have distracted employees, compromising their ability to provide proper customer service.

Makes perfect hammerin’ sawin’ sense.

One month later the re-do was fini; Walmart celebrated its “grand re-opening” on April 23rd, according to a corporate press release. (Read the rest of it by clicking here.)

The saws are silent; the hammers just sit there, waiting to hurt the next dude’s thumb. Time for a review redux.

Will it be better than the last time through? There are things in favor of that last thing being yes: I’ve been inside this Walmart location over a dozen times since. I recognized many of the same faces from March as I perused. I went in dressed like a Walmart manager (on a humble blogger’s salary.)

One thing to keep in mind: Walmart has no formal Secret Shopper program, according to Joe. “They used to do different things in specific areas, but I don’t see it being used as a whole,” he said at the time.

While some semblance of customer service training goes on inside this (and all) Walmart(s), verifying its veracity does not.

That’s what your friendly neighborhood Unsecret Shopper is here to do: veracitize.

Here’s how we’ll score it:

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

     

One trip through – how will they do on the redux?

You’ve got the “to buy” list, I’ll grab a basket. Let’s go (re)shopping! 

    

Staff interaction   

    

I walked through Walmart’s entrance at 1:44pm and was ignored (as were two other people walking out) by Nick the greeter (hired to not let shoppers feel ignored) at 1:44:04.

Nick, not to state the obvious but you’re the greeter; without a greeting, you’re an ungreeting greeter and I can promise you they don’t make as much money as those who do.

Don’t miss the chance to smile, greet and engage customers – with emphasis on “greet.”

A female employee whose name tag I didn’t see but whose glasses and dark hair I did spot, ignored my hair, my glasses and me from 3 feet away in the candle aisle as I sniffed and she stocked, unhappily mumbling to herself as she did about something else she had to do.  

0-2, I moved onto the paint counter, where Jesse got me into the win column with an unsmiling, closed-ended and too informal “Finding everything okay, man?” delivered while he looked at the floor. (A win’s a win.)

I appreciated the gesture, Jesse. Now smile, look your customer in the eye as you say it and say it in an open-ended way: What can I help you with? That way feels like you really mean it – and I know you did.

Next up was Carol at the automotive repair desk, who was talking to a customer while looking down, which was probably just as well because she said, “We don’t do that kind of repair work. You’ll have to take it to a regular mechanic.”

I assume she didn’t mean a mechanic who has no trouble pooping.

I suspect Carol didn’t know that she was implying that Walmart’s mechanics aren’t as skilled as those at other auto repair facilities. Granted, if they can’t do the work, maybe they’re not. It just sounded a little weird.

Dave, also behind the counter, watched me browse car batteries for several minutes without a “Hey stupid, remember, you drive a Prius.”

I finally walked up to Nisha (sorry if I’m not spelling that correctly) who was working beside Carol and Dave and who greeted with an unsmiling but open-ended “What can I do for you?”

She did a nice job of coming out from behind the counter and showing me where a large container of oil was located (I made up a price I’d seen “in the newspaper,” and they actually had it). She was friendly and engaging along the way, called me “hon” and looking me in the eye. Nice job, Nisha! Now toss in a smile at the beginning that you flashed towards the very end, and you’ll be as electrifying as the batteries I didn’t need, but with a greeting that I’ll definitely want.

Nisha - who has lived in Iowa and worked at this Walmart for two years - did sorta take a step backwards after I told her she looked familiar (in order to ask her name, since her name tag was dangling from a cord around her neck and was turned away from me).

“I’m always over at Hy-Vee,” she smiled. “Maybe that’s where you’ve seen me. I’m cheating on Walmart but I always go to Hy-Vee.”

That’s probably it.

Over by the fabric, an older woman whose name I didn’t get asked me the clunky “Can I help you find something” but said it even though my back towards her, which I loved. She made me feel even more engaged after I asked her where the blankets were, by physically taking me to them – a pretty good schlep. I’m so sorry I didn’t see your name tag, but thank you for being so sweet and thoughtful!

That great customer service moment was punched in the stomach by the 20 minutes of being ignored by the big screen TV’s.

Alice blew me off first, walking past me without acknowledgement as I checked out one of the 35 televisions on display.  Jasmina watched me walk past in front of her a half-dozen times as I browsed the same flat screens, apparently deciding that the video games she was stocking were more important than the customer she was ignoring. Leslie didn’t want to break up the string and didn’t, glancing at me as I approached her at the counter then immediately looking back down. Hilarie completed the four-in-a-row, looking down as she approached, glancing up as she was almost on top of me then deftly stepping aside without deftly saying something to someone she nearly ran over.

I decided to give Leslie another chance, mainly because everyone else had split. I checked out pre-paid phones while she worked about 10 feet away on an end display. I moved closer, rummaging through packages, reading the back of boxes aloud like I was sitting at the breakfast table reading the south end of a north bound box of Cheerios; still no Cheerio! from the decidedly less-than-cheery-looking Leslie.

Drastic measures time: I slid across and right beside her, checking out the phones she’d just placed on the wire rack. For 30 bizarre seconds she still remained silent, even reaching around me at one point to secure a phone in a box to a wire on the wall. (Maybe this customer will go away if I don’t say anything.)

Finally, perhaps noticing that I was close enough to her for us to be considered married in Missouri, Leslie said, pointing at a display phone above the row of boxed ones: “That’s what they look like.” It wasn’t exactly Hi! How are you? I’d love to tell you about that phone you’ve been admiring – great choice! but it beat being looked through like a just-cleaned window.

Leslie, my guess is that you have a most extraordinary smile and engaging manner; but until you actually use it, I’m just guessing. So use it next time and make me (W)right. Okay?

I moved onto cameras and began checking one out when Serge engaged me in short order.

“Impressive, isn’t it,” he said with a delightful soft-sell old-school charm. “Oh, they’ve come so far – let me show you something else.”

He led me around to a nicer Canon Powershot, which didn’t cooperate in allowing him to demonstrate some feature on it. No big deal and not your fault, Serge, but it did kinda let the air out of the moment.

The remaining oxygen was sucked out of it by John, who sat a stack of CD’s down hard on a nearby counter, glanced at me with an even harder scowl, then got back to the act of being PO’d and letting everyone know it.

We all get frustrated on occasion, especially at work, John. It must be a great challenge to work at a store as busy as Walmart, where employees rarely have a moment on the floor when they’re not being watched by customers.

It’s possible I could have misinterpreted your demeanor, John. So to avoid any misunderstandings in the future, please put a smile on your face as best you can, and above all else, be easy with merchandise; anything less makes customers think you’re angry, either with them or with the store, and either way it feels the same.

Back to Serge…

He began talking about “zoning” (prompted by my question of why a manager-type had walked past and said, “Serge – watch your zone.”), which is the stocking and organizing of a particular department in the store so it looks clean and neat and presentable to shoppers.

Serge mentioned that zoning in his TV/home electronics section was ongoing, while other sections did it at 2, 6 and 9pm. He then said that he spends “up to five or ten minutes with each customer who is looking at TV’s.”

Did you give my 10 minutes to someone else?

“It’s the most profitable department in the store,” he continued. “We can make up to $150 profit on a television.”

Except on the one that I didn’t buy earlier.

At that point Serge turned and walked over to help another customer – just like that.

Is this part of my 10 minutes? 

Let me emphasize that Serge was a very nice man, very charming. But he made the conversation primarily about himself and the store (which was, admittedly, interesting) and not about the customer (which was, admittedly, depressing, since he never asked whether I was looking for a camera, a TV or a nuclear bomb) and that’s not going to help profits.

I loved the stories, Serge. Now ask me to share a few of my own.

I encountered the first smile of the day, compliments of Kelly, who, from 15 feet away and without any good reason to, flashed a slight grin at me as I caught her eye. She really showed off her pearly whites when I asked her for the time, and even said “you’re welcome” (and meant it) after I thanked her. Awesome job, Kelly!

By the DVD racks, Myles said, “Hi sir, how are you?” while he looked at the floor, diminishing the sincerity of the words by about 90%.

As I browsed DVD’s for the next 6 minutes, it was deja-poo all over again as Serge, Bill and Myles talked to each other, stocked the nearby shelves, walked behind me, reached around me (literally brushing past my shoulder, twice) and somehow managed to totally ignore me.

How in the name of Casper, The Friendly Ghost are three employees so unfriendly?

Guys, I know I’ve lost a lot of weight, but please! I’m right there. Say hi to me. Ask me what I’m looking for. Thank me for shopping in your (very profitable) section.

The flat-out truth is that by denying a customer’s reality - by not engaging them as a human being who is no more than a CD case-width from you, you’re making it easy for Walmart to bring in robots and computers and scanners and technology and eliminate your positions. You’re working your way out of jobs. It’s truly not a threat; it’s simply the reality of 21st Century retail.

That reality continued as I checked out bags of potato chips for nearly two minutes while Najil silently did the same immediately beside me, doing a fabulous job of turning all the food face forward ala Julia Roberts in Sleeping With The Enemy. 

Crystal made up for Najil’s ambivalence by unambivalently stopping beside me and asking, “You look lost – do you need help?” through a slight smile and while carrying a ladder. Without the ladder, great. With it, awesome. Awesome job, Crystal!

Annie, in the men’s shoe aisle, said a quick but unsmiling “hello” as I browsed and she stocked, then said nothing else for the three minutes we breathed each other’s air. She was eventually joined by Margo, who probably figured Annie had asked what she could do for me and so didn’t repeat it.

Chuck, obviously a manager, walked by quickly but still saw fit to flash a very nice smile my direction and for no particular reason, before he was out of eyeshot.

Bev was talking to Cathy, Deana (forgive me if that’s spelled wrong) and Brandi and so missed the fact that a grown man was looking at grown women tops, literally three feet from where they were kibitzing.

I moved on to browse the men’s underwear aisle, where two women were having a conversation three feet away and in the same aisle about which one zoned better. Is this a No Greet zone?

Branie folded women’s tops wearing a huge frown, but turned it into a wonderful smile when I engaged her. Now lose that first thing and use that second thing, okay?

Jelani provided one of the biggest surprises of the night, behind the Customer Service desk:

“How can I help you?”

Awesome! The second open-ended question of the night, and at the one counter where it makes the most sense! Now don’t forget to smile when you say it, young man and you’ll be doing that customer service sign above your head, proud.

It was time to buy my stuff and hit the road. Sherrill, the cashier said a quick “hello” at the beginning and an even quicker “thanks” at the end, addressing each one to her feet; hey, where’s mine?

The floor gets way too many greetings, Sherrill. Look ‘em in the eye and smile. They’ll likely return the favor.

The last interaction of the day was with Jadranka, a new greeter who had me singing a familiar tune: “You Won’t See Me.” (I prefer Anne Murray’s remake over the Beatles original.) I brushed past her unsmiling face, ungreeted and unacknowledged, then stepped back and asked her the time, to which she responded with the largest most beautiful smile I’d seen all day.

Try that at the beginning, Jadranka and you’ll be greeting people into your own store.  

At 3:20pm, an hour and a half after I’d started, I stuck a fork in myself, and headed home.

     

Overall…

Adding up the numbers, here’s how the two Secret Shopper visits compare, using the Pillars of Great Customer Service:

 

Walmart in March: (2 trips through)                  

51 employees encountered                                       

7 smiles                                                                      

8 greetings (salutation/open-ended question)    

3 engagements (problem solving/chit-chat)       

2 Thank-you’s                                          

 

Walmart on Tuesday: (one trip through)

28 employees encountered                                       

1 smile                                                                      

6 greetings (salutation/open-ended question)    

2 engagements (problem solving/chit-chat)       

1 thank-you        

 

I suspect store manager Joe Becker won’t be terribly thrilled with these results. 

Yet you can see marginal improvement in the area of greetings; more per employee capita. The other numbers were basically static. There were also some customer service standouts, like the older woman who took me to the blankets, and Crystal, the ladder-toting helper.

Yet for those positive positive customer service moments at Walmart, there was still a chronic amount of denying of reality and lack of basic human displays of kindness. Whether that’s because of a broken customer service training program, or a corporate culture that stresses stacking it high and watching it fly over smiling and saying “hi,” and “bye,” it’s hard to say.

Either way, it feels the same to shoppers.

In the end, very little appears to have really changed in the past half a year plus, in terms of the quality of customer service being offered at the Walmart on 73rd Street in Windsor Heights. That doesn’t make the managers and employees bad, just typical. 

Human behavior typically does not change easily – it takes time. We are tough nuts to crack, we humans, with our habits and rituals and stuff. But without diligence, commitment, focus, accountability and a belief that there’s something in it for the ones who are being asked to change, there will be none.

That very topic will be discussed in depth this Saturday morning 8-9am on The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show on 1350 KRNT, as I talk with a local psychologist about whether or not we can truly change, and if so, how?

What won’t change is Walmart’s business philosophy of emphasizing cheap prices and low wages – they appear to be doing fairly well with it. 

Yet imagine what would happen if they made an equally strong commitment to improve the quality of their customer service. Imagine who they’d put out of business then. We’d have Walmart Hospitals, Walmart Auto Dealers, Walmart Theaters, Walmart Housing Projects, Walmart Customer Service Trainers…

Keep denying our reality, y’all.

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Facebook page    

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Click to be taken to Jonnie’s blog    

Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190

 

Hello shoppers…

 

And the next thing ya know, your son is playing for money in a pinch-back suit!

And listenin to some big out-a-town jasper, Hearin him tell about horse race gamblin!

Not a wholesome trottin race, no! But a race where they set down right on the horse!

                                                                                                                                                                         -Harold Hill, The Music Man

 

First, let’s establish that horses are a) fun animals that run real fast and poop a lot; and b) gambling is fun games that move real fast and make you lose a lot.

Let us further establish (this is “Second,” if you’re scoring at home) that any establishment that claims to be ”your favorite place to play” is making a promise to us that an experience there will be a fun-drenched smile-filled joy soaked barrel full of monkeys thrill-ride.

The third deal (the cards) io is that we Iowans should be low hanging fruit for such an endeavor; as gentle people of the corn, we require little more to be entertained than a crossword puzzle, some lukewarm Hawaiian Punch and hourly weather updates.

So is there such a magical place designed to blows our Central Iowa minds (and busts our wallets)?

Yes, Jimmy The Greek, there is such a self-designated Santa Claus: Prairie Meadows Racetrack and Casino - the focus of today’s Secret Shopper review. (Click here to read Secret Shopper reviews of other Des Moines area businesses.)

Prairie Meadows, along with pari-mutuel betting was pitched by civic leaders and legislators in 1983 and opened for business in ’89 as a way out of our Iowa-stubborn emotional and economic morass. (“There’s nothing to do here!”) Those morasses were voted out of office by 1991, when the struggling track went (horse) belly up. 

The track supporters had the last whinny; the addition of slot machines and table games in ’95 and ’04 not only saved Prairie Meadows, but led to the explosion of Iowa’s gaming industry. (Last count: 17 casinos, 3 horse and dog tracks and a penny a hand Cribbage game at Shady Acres Retirement Villa in Boone.) 

Today, Prairie Meadows generates $200 million in revenue annually (which it didn’t just do today, since it takes 12 months to do something annually) through the kind donations of visitors who want the excitement of Vegas without the $50 martinis and Celine Dion concert.

Flashing lights, ringing bells, toe-tapping music, tons of action, colorfully dressed staff - sounds like Disneyworld! (Without the pit bosses)

Speaking of Walt (Disney, not a pit boss) here’s a quote:

“You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality. “

 I may be Goofy, but I think ole’ Walt was talking about customer service.

“If we don’t take care of our customers, someone else will.”

Like he did there.

The red carpet and slot machines and card tables and TV monitors and teller windows and restaurants that fill the three floors of Prairie Meadows are designed to stimulate visitor’s senses and maximize their fun; does the staff follow suit? Do employees smile, greet, engage, thank (four of the Six Pillars of Great Customer Service) and help Prairie Meadows live up to the promise of its marketing, as Iowa’s Favorite Place To Play?

That’s the question your friendly neighborhood Unsecret Shopper set out (and crapped out) to find out.

It’s an especially important question (to  the owners) because Prairie Meadows plays in a crowded sandbox (shaped like a roulette wheel) that includes other gaming facilities, online gambling, Powerball and scratch games, bookies, Bingo night at church and thousands of other ways to toss our money down the drain in the interest of staving off boredom.

It should be equally important to you, me and every tax-paying Iowan who kept PM afloat when it risked sinking in a sea of debt. We own it, too.

A point to be made here: I am neither a proponent nor opponent of gambling, unless someone bets me $10 that I can’t stuff 42 tater tots in my mouth and read decipherably from TV Guide. That’s the kind of gambling this town needs more of.

I Secret Shopped Prairie Meadows twice - on a Friday late afternoon and a Sunday around lunch. I went dressed like a guy with money to burn, and like a guy who needed to burn what he was dressed in:

    

    

                    “Jonathan”                                     “Jonnie”    

    

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

     

I’ve got a wallet full of jack and a pocket full of notes from Gambling For Dummies. Let us see if Prairie Meadows’ employees will make it uber-fun, even while I’m losing my shirt.

(Click to hear my conversation with Peter Demos, casino consultant, on the state of customer service in the gaming industry – on The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show.)

    

Staff interaction/Jonathan    

    

    

Huey Lewis was singing about the power of love as I entered Prairie Meadows through a revolving door at 3:50pm, ready to be welcomed like a movie (okay, blogging) star to a private island of excitement and escapism.

Mary Jane, working the Gold Club booth, wasn’t exactly Mr. Rourke as I approached and slowly walked past her; she didn’t smile and didn’t engage although I later heard her pleasant southern accent and thought it would have been wonderful to have been greeted by it.

John, one of the many security detail scattered throughout Prairie Meadows, looked away from me as I looked at him but had a friendly aura and was very helpful in finding me a pen and even flashed a slight smile as I thanked him. One quick tip on the greet rhyme, John: it’s completely acceptable to say “you’re welcome” instead of just sort of grunting. It will not diminish my respect for your ability to taser me if I try to run off with a slot machine.

I headed up the long escalator to 2nd Floor, where I encountered Masoah (sorry if I’m not spelling it right); he was talking to another employee and ignored me as I walked within three feet of him, denying my reality and his chance to make an impression on one of his customers, but doing a great job of keeping a co-worker laughing.

I decided to tell someone I didn’t know a straight flush from Sani-flush and picked Mary Lou, who sat behind a teller counter. She didn’t greet as I came forward but flashed a semi-smile.

“I don’t know how to play the table games,” I conceded. “Where can I get some information?”

Mary Lou literally moved her head forward until it hit the counter in front of her, then laughed uproariously. Translation: Then why are you at a casino, cement-head?

She came back up and said, less unpleasantly, “I don’t know how to play them, either.” That helps! She also didn’t thank me after handing me my change, which helped less.

I next approached Thunder Warrior who, like the four people I’d encountered so far, didn’t smile, greet or engage but unlike them, had blinking lights, spinning cherries and a slot for my buck, which it traded me for 100 credits.

Cool! Now I can finally graduate from college!

This slot machine (like most of them) had eliminated the time-consuming, losing your money less fast task of sticking in quarters and pulling a handle, and replaced it with push buttons – sorta like a really cool looking coffee maker without the hot java. Five “spins” later I was a poorer but wiser man. 

It was time to move to the gaming tables.

I walked up to Joe, who had already dealt a blackjack hand to the only player at his table but wasn’t interested in dealing me a smile, a greeting or an invitation to play, and doubling his attendance.

No player was at Daniel’s table as I approached and so he didn’t have Joe’s excuse but did have Joe’s non-response, ignoring me as I sloowwwly walked past. However, Daniel did come to life when I stopped and asked him how his game worked; he explained that his was a “Carney game,” which means there are bonuses involved, including his beautiful smile which he finally flashed. His was literally the first I saw on any employee’s puss. Great job, Daniel – now engage me with that grin before I engage you, and you’ll be dealing a winning hand (without suffering through the corny metaphor).

It was onto a craps table where an unsmiling Cynthia unhappily yelled, “Dollar crap check for Dwayne’s bet.” Anthony, standing beside her and across the narrow width of the table from me, didn’t look up and didn’t let the insidious tentacles of a grin invade his face because, well, we all know what smiling leads to: more smiling – and that must never be allowed to happen.

Let me stop my excessive-by-design snide remarks for a moment and acknowledge a by-design possibility: It may be that all of the staff working the gaming tables at Prairie Meadows have been given a directive by management to not show emotion out of respect to a player who has just lost their shirt, is working on their pants and so is in a vulnerable emotional state that might make them more likely to misinterpret any reaction by staff.

Let me also acknowledge that what I’ve just written is the dumbest thing I’ve ever read. And I read Newsweek.

I can think of no more obvious time for employees to share their smiles and encouragement and joy and fun and laughter and happiness than with customers, who are there, specifically, to get it. Otherwise, they might as well call Prairie Meadows Iowa’s Favorite Place To Die.

The parade of staff faces that looked like they were on the Bataan Death March continued with two other employees at the same table, one of whom was wearing a suit and who I’ll call a “pit boss” because I’ve seen Casino 47 times.

All four employees looked like they were in the pits. So did the half-dozen patrons around the table. I’ve never seen that many people look that miserable, and I do customer service training.  

Over at a Texas Hold ‘Em table, Kesone looked away, smile-less, as I looked at her, but did flash a brief grin as I asked her to explain her game. She also looked at me and smiled a smile of recognition on my second visit, so nice job, Kesone. Just remember to lead with it AND end with it.

David thought I was getting a little spoiled with all that glad-handling; he walked past within a foot of me, our elbows nearly touching but without using that touchy-feely smile and look ‘em in the eye and greet and acknowledge and not totally blow them off new age junk.

As I sat down on a slot machine chair to write the not as clever as I thought it was at the time comment about David, above, Heidi, from the side, approached, smiling and said, very pleasantly, “Looks like I owe you two cents.” (She was commenting on the machine I’d sat at, which had some credits left on it.)

Thank you, Heidi. You were the first employee (in 13) who engaged me without me having to engage them first. Nice job!

Heidi kept her smile going while explaining that all the left-behind credits are donated to gambling addiction programs. I thought that was cool. As I thanked her, Heidi replied with the less-cool “yep,” as in giddyep! Great job on the smile, greet and engagement, Heidi! Now save the horse commands for the paddock, and try a nice, authentic “you’re welcome.” Otherwise, awesome job!

Another Anthony running another card table stood by himself as I approached but looked down and away as we briefly made eye contact. As Gwyneth Paltrow famously said to Michael Douglas in the chilling A Perfect Murder, “That’s not happiness to see me.”

I went up to the 3rd floor.

I was immediately smiled at by Esroh, who didn’t do terribly well with the other pillars of Great Customer Service, although I did leave my name and email address and would expect her to follow-up.  (Honestly, I’m glad she wasn’t a dude.)

There was a different vibe on 3rd, besides the life-size plastic equine replica; it was quiet (it the horse and it the floor). The slot machines and gaming tables were gone, replaced by dozens of TV monitors which showed horse and dog races and results from all over the country (and probably the world although I didn’t see Antarctica Downs). This was where the racing purists hung out.

All I cared about was the free pop by the Daily Double Deli. Yeaaaa!

I stood at the Deli’s counter for a couple minutes while Liz worked at a coffee dispenser nearby. She finally turned and saw me, walked over and said, pleasantly, “Anything I can get you?” You were very nice, Liz. Now just ditch that closed ended question (which will actually give you hoof and mouth disease) in favor of a nicer, more engaging “What can I help you with?” After all, anyone standing helplessly at your help counter needs help, helper, so there’s probably nothing helpful about asking them if they need it. Am I (W)right?

I hope that helped. 

I sat down at a table, within earshot of a loosely gathered group of a half-dozen men who you just knew were hardcore betters; they had the following exchange.

“You got the full five exacta?”

“No.”

“Cause that Red Dog looks like he ain’t gonna give it up.”

“Fetch it on out there! Fetch it on out there, honey!”

Sir, they truly need your energy down on 2nd…are you currently employed?

Shane employed his customer service skills as he walked past me and said, “Can I help you?” Wrong closed-ended question, Shane but very thoughtful of you to ask, thank you!

Uh…why don’t you mosey on down to 2nd?

I entered the Poker Room, where David greeted me with the same clunky closed-ended “Can I help you?” but said it with a slight smile so I won’t club you too much, David.  Especially not when I said I was just wandering around, to which your smile broadened, your arms waved invitingly and you replied, “Come on in!”

Let me watch the door up here, bro; you’re needed downstairs immediately.

John, a big, strapping no nonsense arms folded security guy, stood nearby watching the unfolding poker game with a slight, bemused smile on his face.

WHAAAT? For the love of Pete, John, don’t you know you’re creating a ginormous security risk by demonstrating that you’re a human being and not Dirty Harry? You know that that 80 year-old woman at the table has been eyeballing you, studying you for any vulnerability and is just waiting to snap your neck and take you out!

Give me your badge and taser, bro; you’re needed downstairs immediately.

Unfortunately that’s where I had to head next, unless there was a way to scale down the side of…

Dennis, a security guard at the base of the escalator from 3rd to 2nd, “greeted” me at the bottom as I stepped off and turned towards him by not smiling, not greeting, not engaging and in fact looking away from me as I looked him in the eye.

John proved it, Dennis; you can look happy and not be brought up on charges of dereliction of duty.

Over at a snack bar, another John, who’d been working for the Prairie Meadows commissary for six months, clearly wasn’t getting with the program as he said, thoughtfully, ”coming up behind you with a cart” through an awesome smile, then held it there while we chit-chatted. He even ended it with a sweet “thank you, sir” as he moved on. Dude, you keep that up, you’re going to get sent up to 3rd floor.

(Keep it up.)

I walked past then stopped and stood within eyeshot of Jennifer, who listened to a co-worker tell her, through a huge smile, “What are you trying to do, escape out the door?” Jennifer, laughing, replied, “I’m thinking about it.” As I walked back past both women, each looked at me, unsmiling, the joy and happiness and engagement about not having to be at a place of joy and happiness and engagement, gone, like horsey poo-poo gas in a high wind.

There’s so much wrong with that (before the joke) my fingers are choking on the words.

To Jennifer and your co-worker and all of your other co-workers, I say this: I know you were both just kidding around, sharing the type of moment we’ve all shared with co-workers. Work isn’t always the most pleasant of places to be; it can be a grind, in fact, especially logging long hours on your feet, doing repetitive tasks and earning a small hourly wage which probably falls short of paying all your bills. You are decent, loving people who work hard. Yet the only feedback most of you ever receive is probably when you screw up. That doesn’t make your managers evil, just human, just as we all are.

Yet also understand this: you are not a victim of where you work, or the company you work for. You are part of the solution to make it better. So before you complain, either sarcastically or seriously about the third of your life spent working, ask yourself: What have you done today to make it better tomorrow?

If the answer is nothing, then you’re blaming the wrong thing.

And now…on with the countdown.

Roxanne and Chris, working at another table, looked down and away, frowning, as I looked at each of them, smiling.

Then Phuong (sorry if I misspelled it!) appeared like rays of sunshine on a muddy track.

She spotted me making eye contact with her, smiled the most beautiful smile and said, “How are you?”

She was one of the only employees out of the 50 I encountered over three hours and two visits, who asked me that simple, kind, thoughtful question. You should be immediately promoted to Prairie Meadows Customer Service Trainer and given a raise and your own office, Phuong. Fantastic job!

I approached another card table, where Jeff, who looked like a smiley guy, didn’t share one with me, or a greeting or etc.

Dennis, a pit boss, looked at me then away, smile and greeting-free. At that moment Jeff shouted, “Denny!” A huge grin magically appeared on Dennis’ face, matched only by the one now on the mug of Jeff, who apparently needed different cards.

Teresa stood at a vacant table ready to deal but didn’t see fit to toss me a (smiley) face card or acknowledge me in any way as I walked past. She DID smile and even used a nice “hon” after I’d asked her where the bathroom was.

Jack, at another table, was dealing to a player but did look up at me, then away, expressionless. Doug the pit boss gave a slight smile as I looked his way and then turned away.

The young guy playing cards at the table showed them both how it’s done as he spotted me behind and slightly right of him.

“Hi. How are you, sir?”   

You’re hired, kid.

I’d been at Prairie Meadows nearly two hours. It felt like since 1989. At 5:43pm I walked back out through the revolving door, towards the parking lot and my Prius, which beeped at me as I approached.

It felt nice to be acknowledged.

     

Staff interaction/Jonnie  

 

    

At 12:05pm on a picture perfect Sunday, I re-entered the picture-perfect structure of Prairie Meadows to the sweet strains of Blue Eyes singing it his way, searching for employees who would look my way.

David, working security at the entrance, started things out on the right hoof; he looked me in the eye and, with a slight smile, asked, “Help you find something?”

Thanks for caring enough to ask, David. Now ask the more caring, open-ended question: What can I help you find? Difference? Marginal. Impact? Immeasurable. 

It was impossible to measure Floyd’s interaction from where I stood some four feet away from his valet counter because there was none. “Valet” must be French for “bored,” because that’s how Floyd looked. If true, that feeling probably could have been at least partially alleviated had he engaged me, and other passing patrons – just a thought.

Deborah, working in the Gift Shop, greeted with a smile-less but pleasant “Hi, sir. What can I help you find?” Nice open-ended question, Deborah! It was the first (and last) I’d be asked over both visits. Now add a smile so your greeting feels like you mean it, and remember that ”sir” is for people who don’t want to take the time to learn a customer’s name. You also didn’t thank me as I left, and I know you are thankful for the people who shop in your store, Deborah, because without them, there is no store, no job and no paycheck.

Remember next time, okay?

I left the shop and ran into Missy, who was working security but didn’t make me feel terribly secure as she looked me in the eye then looked immediately away, never saying a word, flashing a smile or acting like I was anything more than a very large pillar in the hallway that needed to be avoided.

Irene, another member of the Prairie Meadows security team, liked how Missy was working the floor and, standing at the base of the escalator, went with it; I stood within ten stacks of chips of her and looked her in the eye as she looked at me, then away, without giving a hi, a goodbye, a smile or a grunt.

I said goodnight, Irene (silently) as I hopped aboard the escalator.

On the 3rd floor I approached Bill, a teller, who uttered an almost inaudible “hello” without a smile from his sitting position behind the counter. Esther said nothing as I sloowly walked past. Later I engaged her, and found out that a) she can speak, b) she can laugh, c) she’s worked at Prairie Meadows for 21 years, since they popped open their doors and d) her step-dad is from Cambridge, my hometown and I know him and other people she knows.

All because I engaged her.

Imagine how much more fun your job would be, Esther, imagine how faster time would pass, imagine how much happier you’d be if, instead of waiting for patrons to engage you, you engaged them. Can you imagine?

Try.

I moved to the teller counter immediately left of the Daily Double Deli (right of it if you are facing the other way, which would put you on the other side of the wall and outside of the building, plummeting towards the ground). Sitting behind the counter and not going anywhere was Deb, who managed to ignore me for seven loooong minutes while I stood at the counter, close enough to reach out and touch her arm but instead leafing through thoroughbred results, glancing her way, checking out a nearby video monitor, glancing her way and literally lowering myself to strumming my fingers on the counter.

No dice.

I could have been a 15 hands Bay asking directions to the starting gate before a stakes race (but first ordering a bucket of oats and a Coke) and Deb wouldn’t have whoa, although she did manage to exchange a few pleasant words with a co-worker behind the counter.

Next time, please don’t ignore a visitor who is so close to you that you can pluck their eyebrows, Deb, and lord knows mine needed it.

Scott was coming out from behind the Deli counter to work on a coffee machine and ignored me as he walked past. He literally became perturbed when I attempted to engage him. Not a good way to go, Scott. I don’t care that you don’t work for Prairie Meadows; once inside their facility, you represent them. Also, no matter how mad you are at a broken coffee dispenser, you can’t take it out on a patron. Ever.

Downstairs at the Paddock snack bar, Carolyn greeted with the unfortunate “Can I help you with something?” No, no; I can come back there and make my own sandwich. But while I do, can you go chill Scott out?

Try something nicer, Carolyn, like “What can I help you with?”

Jean, working another teller window, greeted with a smile-free “hi” and a nice open-ended “What can I do for you?” but asked it while she stared down at her computer monitor, which felt like she was asking it and not me. It doesn’t need your help; it already has Clippit, Jean.

She looked at me and pointed towards the ATM I asked about, but had already moved her eyes back down to the monitor by the time I turned back around to thank her.

I finally saw a huge smile – albeit from a non-staff member:

Mike, you’re hired.

Slavitza already had been. She glanced away as I glanced towards her but her face lit up when I engaged her like a $10,000 slot payoff. Share that beautiful smile sooner, Slavitza, like Mike!

Here’s a compendium of the next seven encounters, because I know y’all have things to do:

Andrew blew by and blew me off. Steve walked past without a smile or acknowledgement. Salomon (sorry if I’m not spelling it right) smiled and laughed with Irene the security guard, but had replaced his grin and guffawing with a frown when our paths crossed, and more than once. Herbie working the blackjack table looked me up and down but didn’t smile, didn’t greet and didn’t acknowledge. Ginger at another card table was greetless while appearing joyless. Sheri and Lucy gave hi’s without smiles.

Favorite place to play? I looked for a sign that read: “What happens in Prairie Meadows stays in Prairie Meadows - just not for the fun reasons.”

Last stop: the Gold Club booth counter, where Connie, emulating Jean, said “I’ll be right with you” while staring, unsmiling, at her computer monitor, which hopefully meant she was telling her computer monitor to be patient because she had to engage a visitor.

No such luck. A minute or so later she turned towards me, still without a smile and asked a nicely open, “What can I help you with?” Put a smile on your puss and I’ll believe you, Connie!

I told her I was interested in information about the Gold Club. Connie reached over to a display of brochures, pulled one out, handed it to me and said, “This will tell you everything about the program.”

Oh. Then why are you here?

30 seconds into me skimming the info, Connie finally said, “I can tell you about it,” and did, quite nicely, explaining all the benefits of Gold Club membership in great detail, from the slot machines to the buffet. She even threw in a question, about whether I played slots the most.

After going through a laundry list of benefits, Connie asked, “Do you want to sign up?”

A quick tip, Connie. Order takers ask closed ended questions. Professionals ask open-ended questions. “Do you want to sign up?” forces me into two choices, and anytime we feel forced into something, we’ll almost invariably decline. (I did.)

Instead, if you want to sell more memberships, Connie, ask more questions of potential members first, before you get to the loong list of club membership priviledges. As I tell trainees all the time:

You know that you know what you know. Now let go of it, and tune into the customer’s world.

You’ll get to the bennies of what you’re pimping soon enough. Believe it or not, it’s the least important part of a consumer’s engagement with you. Focus first on who you’re selling. Ask personal questions, get to know the patron, knock down the walls that exist between two people who have never met.

When it comes time to ask for the sale, improve on the ham-handed closed-ended “Can I sign you up?” Instead, try, “Before we get you signed up, tell me what you like about this program.” Follow that up with, “I’m sure you have questions. Let me answer them.” Then: “This sounds like a program that would really work for you. I’m anxious to get you rolling. Let’s get you signed up!” Take people by the hand and gently guide them where they want to go. They’ll love you for it, and you’ll sell a ton of Gold Club memberships in the process.   

Try it, Connie! See if if works!

The clock was working on a quarter till 2 as I worked my way to the revolving door, ready to call it a night even though it was mid-afternoon. An hour and 40 minutes after the Secret Shopping race had started, I crossed the finish line – totally gassed and looking for a bucket of oats and a Coke.

 

Overall…

I’m smiling on the outside, but inside I have severe customer service colic.

Here are the official Secret Shopper results, which are final:

Employees encountered: 50

# of smiles: 6

# of greetings: 19 (9 occurred at counters where you’d expect them)

# of engagements: 3

# of thank-you’s: 1

If this were a horse, we’d take it out back and shoot the sick ole’ nag.

Here are a few more take-aways…

1. Prairie Meadows is a lot of fun

2. The people working there don’t appear to be having any

3. The people working there risk having less fun by working themselves out of a job

4. We all deserve better – players, visitors, employees, management, everyone

5. The problems are easily resolved

I didn’t say “readily”; the poor customer service at Prairie Meadows is imbedded in its culture like horse flop in the dirt track. It certainly can’t be cleaned up overnight.

Yet the good news is that everything I discovered while Secret Shopping Prairie Meadows - poor engagement, few greetings, tons of denial of reality and an embarrassing lack of smiles – can be changed, with training, diligence and most of all, a commitment by PM’s owners and managers to improve their quality of customer service. (Click this sentence to learn more about what specific training would work. Hint: It rhymes with Smileosphere.)

The even better news is that some employees - like Heidi, David (on 3rd) John (at the commissary) and Phuong – are already doing some nice smiling and engaging. Train the rest to elevate their game, to smile and smile and smile and smile again, to greet every customer every time, to engage patrons because they deserve it and because it’s fun to do, and Prairie Meadows can do what seems impossible: make all those customer losers, feel like adored winners.

Think the odds are long? Sure. But I wouldn’t bet against it.  :)



(Read reader reaction to this Secret Shopper review by clicking here.)

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Facebook page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Twitter page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s blog    

Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190

 

Hello shoppers…

 

YOU’LL SAVE BIG MONEY…YOU’LL SAVE BIG MONEY…WHEN YOU SHOP MENARRRRDS!

 

We’ve all heard it, sung it, cursed it for not leaving our skulls and considered turning it into a full-blown musical featuring dancing plywood.

(Click this sentence to watch a cockateil listening to the Menards jingle, and wonder why a) somebody filmed it, and b) 5,631 people watched it.)

“It” is the snappy jingle for the do-it-yourselfer’s paradise known as Menards – the focus of this week’s Secret Shopper review (and a place where you can save big money, in case you haven’t heard).

Menards is the fourth-largest home improvement store chain in the U.S. behind Home Depot, Lowes and just borrowing your neighbor’s tools ad nauseam till he calls the cops. The 12-state, 45,000 employee, 259 location chain generates over $8 billion in annual sales; that’s a lot of roofing, remodeling and recutting cause you only measured once.

What’s harder to measure – yet undeniably real – is the impact of customer service on Menards’ bottom line.

Especially when your very strong marketing also includes pitchman (now retired) Ray Szmanda:

Yet regardless of the power of Menard’s hype machine, the fundamental things (in retail) still apply, as Sam in Casablanca (probably not referencing a lumberyard, but okay) reminded us: Menards’ employees should smile, greet, engage and thank and follow-up, five of my Six Pillars of Great Customer Service. (We’ll forgive them for not handing out chocolate, Pillar #6, just this once.)

Sooo do they – do all that other stuff?

That’s what you friendly neighborhood stuff searching Unsecret Shopper wanted to find out, and did so by Secret Shopping the Menards (one of two in Des Moines) at 6000 S.E. 14th Street.

I secret shopped their airplane hanger-sized 150,000 square foot location twice on a recent Monday; dressed once like an atypical nail-pounder (which is authentic since I usually use the wrong end of the hammer) and once like your average Bob Villa (which is a total crock of shingles).

    

    

                    “Jonathan”                                     “Jonnie”    

    

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak – a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong – some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar – first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

     

This isn’t the first time I’ve Secret Shopped a home improvement crib; click here to read the April Secret Shopper review of Home Depot in West Des Moines, and see how they compare to the Menards review you’re about to review.

Menards, like other big box home improvement stores, has a simple philosophy; load down their reinforced shelving with every tool ever invented by man (okay, they were out of proton accelerators) alongside enough paint, screws, two by fours and plywood to rebuild Cambridge (it’s fine, just a metaphor) then get out of the ever-lovin way of the Saturday morning crush of inrushing do-it-yourselfers.

Is there any room for customer service in the middle of all of that?

Grab your bib overalls (please wear proper undergarments) cinch up your tool belt (Does this make me look “hip-ey?”) and let us see if we get some big smiles, big greets, big engagement and big thank yous along with all that big money we’ll save.

    

Staff interaction/Jonathan    

1/2    

    

I passed between Menards’ auto-sliding-open-like-Star Trek glass doors at 10:45am, walked through the old-school-cool turn-style, grabbed an even older-school shopping cart with a bad wheel, hung a right and headed towards Lighting.

After a few minutes of fixture browsing I came upon Ron, who fixed me up with a nice “hi” followed by an even better “What can I help you find?” Ron even tossed in a quick smile as he pointed me in the (W)right direction. Quick greeting, open-ended question, ended it with a smile, nice job, Ron!

The light counter dimmed a bit a few minutes later as I came back around and within just feet of Steve, who ignored me as he worked on a left-brain saw project. He started walking away, at which point I caught up with him and asked him the time.

“I get off at Noon and it’s only about an hour away,” he said with a slight smile, perhaps explaining why he was more focused on cutting and scraming then smiling and greeting.

You’ve got a lot of stuff to do, Steve, I dig that. Just make sure a customer isn’t on your “to don’t” list. It would have taken you just a few minutes to engage me, and you still would have been on the golf course (or wherever) by 12:30.

Mike, in the ceramic tile counter area, took Steve’s lead and didn’t acknowledge me for the four minutes I checked out some very nice crimson onyx tile within 10 feet and easy eyeshot of him.

It is as corny as an Elvis impersonator’s joke at The Cambridge Retirement Home, Mike, but the most important thing you can build in a place built for it, is relationships with the patrons perusing the stuff you pimp. Tile, carpeting and flooring do a terrible job giving the Pillars of Great Customer Service, Mike, so don’t leave it up to them!

A few minutes later, Curt, at the same counter, did verbally but closed-endedly engage me, from a bit of a distance: “Finding everything okay?”

Take three steps closer and roll with an open-ended and much more engaging “What can I help you with?” and I will have found everything I needed, Curt.

I moved onto the paint section, where Lori went closed-ended, too, asking me, without a smile, “Getting everything okay?” Later Lori did a nice job explaining the attributes of some odor-absorbing paint for my cat room and even offered suggestions that wouldn’t have netted her or Menards a (s)cent.  

But you’ve got to do it with a smile, Lori. I’m a happy cat trying to make me and my puddies happier, so plug and play into my critter joy with some of your own. Plus, after our convo was ovo I said, “Thank you,” to which she replied, “No problem.”

That may be slang for “You’re welcome,” but as a conversation ender between two adults who aren’t at a Justin Bieber concert it, frankly, blows. Give it a bit more polish with a nice “You’re welcome – thank you for shopping with us!”

I hit three closed-ended questions in a row (Menards has a long way to go for the retail record – read the Secret Shopper reviews of American TV and Appliance, Walmart and raTget) in Appliances, where Deb, pleasantly enough, used the not so much “Need some help, sir?”  

“Sir” is for and Elton John, Sting and a drill sergeant, Deb. Instead – and this is going to sound revolutionary, and just plain nuts - ask the person what their name is, then use it. Your customers are people, too, Deb, all Unsecret Shopper appearances to the contrary. Treat them as such by engaging them as such and they’ll love your suchness so much so that they’ll come back and back and back.

Anthony, also at the appliances counter, had this exchange with me.

“I’m looking for a washer that I can schedule to wash at different times and days, automatically.” (That’s me talking – you probably knew that.)

“That’s pretty top of the line – it’s pretty expensive,” he replied. “We could probably order it – but it’s pretty expensive.”

Why that’s not probably not the optimum response not:

1. You don’t know how much money I make, Anthony; you’re assuming that what you think is expensive is what I think is expensive, and any time we think that the world we’re living in is the world someone else is living in, our girlfriend tells us “no, I DON’T think it’s reasonable to drop a grand on a Big Bertha Driver” and reminds us how wrong we are.

2. You never ever EV-uh talk smack about the stuff you sell, Anthony, not for any reason. If an employee expresses a belief that something they sell is expensive, the customer will logically begin to think that, hey, maybe everything else in this store is overpriced, too so maybe I CAN’T save big money at Menards and that jingle is a bunch of hooey. Then they’re hoorreying out of your parking lot and heading over to Lowes.

Retail longevity, customer loyalty and revenue are all based upon trust: trust the employee, trust the things you sell, trust the company you sell them for.

Trust me, Anthony didn’t help himself by what he said next:

“Best Buy makes a timer – I don’t know why we don’t sell it but they do. It sits right on top of the washer and times it to wash at the same time every time.”

Somewhere, a Menards manager just thrown up.

You’re trying to help a customer, Anthony, I get that. But not to the detriment of the place that signs your checks. Tossing your own company under the bus AND pimping your competition hurts you, your co-workers, your customers, everybody.

Enough said.

Okay, one more comment. Anthony frequently addressed me as “partner” and “bud.” While those handles would be great if a) we were at an 1856 Wild West Roundup, or b) my name was actually Partner or Bud, they fall a bit short of respectful otherwise and should be replaced with a) not calling the customer by any name, or b) (the unimaginable) asking the customer what their name is, then using it.

Okay, partner?

Jon – who spells his name the cool way – was a little too cool as he walked past me, without looking my way or acknowledging the fact that I was an object taking up space inside his store.

Kyle Wilson kept the “denial of customer reality” going as I approached him while he worked on a display for Larsen Doors (“America’s #1 Selling Storm Door!”). 

For 7 minutes I stood within 3-5 feet of Kyle, looking through Larsen Doors literature, reading Larsen Doors signage, admiring Larsen Doors craftsmanship, wondering why a Larsen Doors rep (as so noted on Kyle’s name tag) would look through me like a screen door.

You can put up all the Larsen displays you want, Kyle (and I’m sure you do quite a few, and quite well); but if nobody is there to buy them, then you’re just killing time and there’s funner ways to do that.

Brian, at the door selling counter, made up for Kyle and Jon by saying “hi” to me as I walked past, even as he was engaging another customer. It’s simple, it’s small and it rocks. Nice job, Brian!

I decided to head to the Design Center, where I began checking out those large buckets of glop that you pay someone else to put on your leaky roof.

It took a few minutes because the guys in the area were busy, but soon enough Andy approached, opening with a clunky closed-ended “Need anything over here?” but doing a very nice job after of asking me questions, answering mine and maintaining eye contact the whole time, with the occasional grin tossed in. I almost bought a tub of glop for my leakin-like-a-siv roof above my son’s bedroom, even though I live in what appears to be a water-proof apartment, sans kids. Nice job, Andy!

Anthony – for all my picking on him – did a great job as he approached, with a huge grin on his face. 

“Still doing okay, buddy?”

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

On Anthony’s happy heels was the forlorn Bob, who looked like someone had just told him he had been hired as Chet Culver’s personal trainer.

Look, dude (Bob, not Chet): whatever it is, it CAN’T be as bad as you looked like it was. Just think, you could be working at (insert company with poor Secret Shopping review here)!

Customers look to employees for cues about how to feel about shopping inside their stores. If an employee is smiling and happy, the customer will be, too. And if you can’t smile, Bob, then you are working yourself out of a job, because someone else who can do what you do will smile and do it as well. It’s not a threat, just a reality.

So smile, Bob! Like this!

Jared looked nearly as depressed as Bob as he walked past, looking down at the floor as he did so.

Hey Jared, at least Bob has the excuse that he’s been working at Menards since before the advent of nails. You’re a young whipper-snapper who hasn’t put in enough time to develop a 10,000 yard stare. Be young, be happy and share it with your customers – they’ll love it!

Samantha flashed a quick grin as she walked past, even though there was no reason for her to do so, other than she was being nice; VERY nice, Samantha!

Paul took it up a notch, smiling and offering a nice “hi” as we passed each other – in the bathroom. Someone who follows the Pillars of Great Customer Service in the potty is someone I want to hire. Great job, Paul!

I moved onto the checkout counter, where Menards has put the cashiers in the challenging position of having their backs to patrons while they ring up their items. Sue did the best she could but it wasn’t until I’d begun to run my debit card through the slot that Sue finally had a chance to fully turn towards me and flash her incredible smile and Hi Can I help? button pinned to her smock. She also thanked me (the only person who did during both visits) and wished me a wonderful day. Wonderful job, Sue!

At 12:05pm, an hour and 20 minutes after I’d entered Menards, I walked back out and to my awaiting car (which is what cars usually do).

     

Staff interaction/Jonnie  

 

    

At straight up 8pm, eight hours after Jonathan split the premises, Jonnie split the entrance doors apart and entered Menards huge, beautiful and daunting (to us newbies) confines.

Erika, who was working very nearby at the Customer Service counter, could have and should have given a quick greeting as she watched me enter. You’re doing some left-brain tasks, plus greeting is not something you have to do, I get that, Erika. That’s why doing it would give it even more impact, because customers know you’re not a hired (greeter) gun, you’re just greeting because it’s the right thing to do, and you feel like doing it.

Like my grandma used to say, act like you’re name is on it, kid i.e. take ownership, of tasks and people. Make them yours to deal with, not someone else. Back then I thought she’d been sniffing Polident. Today? Turns out Grandma was a customer service genius.

I entered Lighting and browsed the aisles unattended until Billy, impressively, saw me pass between an aisle opening and was on me like Vaseline Intensive Care on cracked skin. True, he may have missed a crack with his “Finding everything alright?” question, but I still like the fact that he spotted me and hustled to catch up. Also, don’t forget to say “thank you!”

Onto Laminate Flooring I stepped, where I was greeted by Cynthia with a tepid/closed-ended, “Need help with anything?” It’s hard to say that question and sound like you mean it, Cynthia. Instead, try “What can I help you with?” It tends to sound genuine, even if you don’t give a rat’s patooty – which I know you do.

I left and came back to find Tyrone, a 10-year Menards veteran, working in the same flooring area. I checked out huge long hanging sample blocks of tile no more than 15 feet away; there was no response from Tyrone, no engagement, no nutin, honey. I moved my cart closer, puttering it down his aisle, making more noise than a skelaton throwing a fit on a hot tin roof (Foghorn Leghorn, 1953) but again, nutin, nada, zipadeedoodah.

Tyrone, you seemed like a nice enough after I engaged you (about the time). But you can’t let me darn near run you over with my cart before that and not say something. Plus, I understand that you were the Manager on duty that night, as Cameron, the main cat at the top, wasn’t around. That means you’re head kitty, kat; so set a customer service example that all your underlings can follow, for the greater good of us all.

Things got less greater in Paints.

For 15 loooong minutes I looked at, examined, read, shook and clanked together gallons of enamel while Dave worked at the counter and ignored me by himself, then was soon joined by Colby who, along with Dave, blew me off in stereo.

It wasn’t like I was standing quietly across from them like paint drying; I had a cart with a bad wheel that sounded like pennies being poured down a drain spout. I even picked up the cart by the handle at one point and let ‘er drop, making a CLANG! sound like an approaching San Francisco trolley (yet still not curing the bad wheel issue – curses!). But it didn’t matter; whatever conversation you were having, fellas, it was clearly more important than some silly ole’ customer shopping for some nutty ole’ can of paint.

I finally approached them, pushing my cart (now nearly destroyed). Dave stopped talking to Colby long enough to turn towards me and ask, “Need anything?”

Nothing a salesperson wouldn’t solve!

“No,” came my reply to which Dave responded by simply turning back towards Colby and picking up their chit-chat where they’d left off.

This is, as I say in training, somewhat less than the optimum response we might consider for a patron inside our establishment.

I.e. what you said was poopy.

Unpoop it, dudes. Get your heads on swivels, look/listen for customers and go glad-handle them. They deserve it. Otherwise, by not doing so, you’re making it much easier for consumers to decide to do their home improvement shopping online, where they expect to be ignored.

Over in Appliances, Chris, having spent too much time around Anthony, looked my way and asked, “You alright, buddy?”

Not terribly.

I then moved over to the door displays, where Brooke ignored me by herself for a minute, then at least had an excuse to do so as someone she clearly hadn’t seen in a while suddenly appeared. There the two yakked it up for nearly 10 minutes while I stood browsing very nearby, which made that one-sixth of an hour feel like six.

I get it that she’s a long-lost friend, Brooke, but friends are friends forever; it’s customers who are fickle. We’re looking for any dumb reason to pick up our toys (money) and go play in another sandbox (store).  Don’t make it so easy for us to do so.

Some of the best engagement of the night came from a guy hooking nut on a forklift; Steve, who said, “Hi, how you doing tonight?” as he passed, and even with a slight smile, as much as the G forces would allow. Great job, Steve!

Over by Christmas decorations, Joe was apparently in a bah, humbug mood, totally ignoring me as he approached, and walked past.

Joe? The store has a talking animatronic deer that was more inviting than you. You can’t get your tail waxed by styrofoam and wires, dude, otherwise the six-foot tall dancing Santa will start laughing, and he’s only programmed to sing. (I took a pic of this but the pic doesn’t do it justice so just go look at it; you’ll laugh till you snort.)

Remember; smile, greet, engage and thank, every one, every time. Do that, and you’ll put the faux fawn to shame.

In the Design Center, John approached with the dreaded closed-ended ”Anything I can help you with?” but afterwards did a very nice job of selling fencing features, explaining the bennies of copper vs. wood vs PVC vs. metal vs. just letting my cows roam the acreage free-range.

I needed a nail gun as mine was worn out from my years of carpentry. So I started picking them up and checking them out at a display area until Jason, with a super-nice smile, said, “Find anything?” The question stunk but his engaging face and friendly manner filled the area with the aroma of pleasantness. Jason, with that amazing smile of yours and your very engaging demeanor, you are probably selling a lot of stuff for Menards. Now start things out with a nice open-ended question, get the customer’s name, use it in conversation, welcome them back to the store and you’ll sell twice as much. Promise!

Back in floor tile, Zac was focused on a left-brain task but also had his head on a swivel and so spotted me, quickly greeting with, “Hi! Help you find anything?”  Nice salutation, not so hot closed-ended question plus you forgot to thank me at the end. But your smile and demeanor were pleasant, Zac, so good job. Uh, one more favor; skip the “no problem” at the end, after I thanked you. Instead, try that oldie but goodie, “you’re welcome.”

Works every time, kid.

It was checkout time. I slid my stuff onto a conveyor belt manned by Seth, who was far too busy engaging another employee to bother engaging me, other than telling me the price, and “here’s your receipt.” In-between those two deep, rich conversation starters, Seth did manage to find time and energy to yell out, “Just 58 minutes left, Cathy” to another employee who, I’m guessing (just a hunch) was Cathy, and was excited to be so close to walking out the door.

I beat them both by an hour – about an hour after I’d entered.

 

Overall…

Menards has some good solid customer service standouts, including Glop Andy and Backwards Sue from visit #1 and Forklift Steve from visit #2.  (Not their real names)

There is also room for much (home) improvement, particularly in the area of acknowledging every customer, smiling, using open-ended questions and always always ALWAYS thanking people for coming into the store.

After all, if you’re going to brag about how you can help people improve their own homes, you probably better start with your own.

Now, where were we…oh yeah….

“YOU’LL SAVE BIG MONEY! YOU’LL SAVE BIG MONEY!…”

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Facebook page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s Twitter page    

Click to be taken to Jonnie’s blog    

Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190

 

 

 

Hello shoppers…

 …and welcome back to this Part II Secret Shopper review of Des Moines area high schools, which includes Lincoln, North, Roosevelt, Urbandale and Valley.

If you’d like to read Part I first, which includes Ankeny, Dowling, East, Hoover, Johnston and about 472 more words but much better jokes than the one you’re about to embark upon, click this sentence.

The goal of both? To see if teachers, administrators and support staff will right-brain smile, greet, engage and thank (four of my Six Pillars of Great Customer Service) even while they left-brain teach and trouble-shoot.

The scenario for all? I am looking for a school and a neighborhood to move to from Tyler, Texas with my 15 year-old son, Logan, who I’ve homeschooled since 3 and now want socially immersed until 18. 

How we score?

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

    

Five down, five to go – let’s see if I get treated like a Homecoming King, or Carrie.

    

Lincoln High School

3/4

Phone greeting: “Good afternoon, Lincoln High School.” (Pleasant voice, nice salutation at the beginning, now personalize it with “My name is” and “how can I help you?”)

Lincoln was the most secure high school I visited; the doors were locked and I had to ring a buzzer which brought a woman’s voice on the intercom: “Can I help you?” It was a closed-ended question but, then again, it was a closed-ended door so felt appropriate. I explained my scenario and she remotely unlocked the door. 

I encountered the nice smile of Emily in the main office. She looked across at Leanne and told her why I was there. Leanne said (to both of us), “Have him go down to the VP’s office.” 

It is one of the interesting curiosities of how we roll as human beings that someone will give a directive to someone else to give to us, even though the person for whom the directive is intended is right there. It’s not wrong, just sort of funny and interesting.

Emily told me what Leanne had just told her within earshot of both of us, and so I rolled down to the VP’s office, where Gladys greeted with a closed-ended and unsmiling “Can I help you?” If I’m standing at your desk and looking at you helplessly, odds are I need help, Gladys. Try a smiling and open-ended “What can I help you with?” It sounds like you really want to help me – and I know you did.

I explained why I was there and what Leanne and Emily had told me to do. Gladys looked at me for just a second and then said, somewhat strangely, “What do you want to do?”

Remember, I’d told her and everyone else that I was visiting from Texas because my son and I were planning on moving to the area, and I was in town to visit schools and neighborhoods, to help determine where we were going to live.

I said what I thought was obvious, but okay: “I want to see the school.”

“You can go down to the main office and get a pass,” Gladys replied.

And so I dutifully walked back to where I’d already been and told Emily what Gladys had said. She handed me an adhesive visitor’s badge and instructed me to stick it to my shirt, which I did.

I then walked out of the office, alone, and into a school with over 2,000 students.

Remember, this is a heavily secure, locked down high school. Yet I’d been buzzed in right away; no one had physically greeted me as I came in, and no one had asked to see my ID.  I’d simply been turned loose to wander the hallways of the largest high school in the state, rendering the security system that protects it, useless.

And so for nearly 20 minutes I walked, down one hallway, then another, and another. I walked pass classrooms full of bright, eager minds, being taught by determined, compassionate teachers. I walked past the occasional employee who sometimes glanced my way but often not at all. I walked along the polished hallways of 2nd Floor, then 3rd Floor, then 1st, without anyone questioning why I was there; I had my yellow visitor’s pass on – that was, understandably, enough.

I was engaged by two people. First, Sandy, a librarian, flashed a nice smile and gave a quick “hi” as I approached. Then Roberta, the assistant athletic director, spotted me.

“Can I help you?” she asked closed-endedly, a bit suspiciously and totally reasonably of an adult wearing an unsigned visitor’s pass and wandering her halls.

After explaining why I was there and what I was doing, Roberta, very thoughtfully, took me to the choir room, where a group of talented vocalists were rehearing All-State Music for the first time. She even more thoughtfully introduced me to the choir and the director. The thoughtfulness sort of ended when she passed me off to a just passing by Steven, the Lincoln High drum major, who I followed to the band room.

Seeing that the band instructor was occupied, I walked back upstairs, did a few more laps inside the building then headed for the door I’d originally entered, toward my awaiting Prius.

And that – after a nearly 800 mile journey from East Texas – was my 28 minute tour of Lincoln High School.   

    

North High School

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling North High School. This is Jolene, how can I help you?” (Say “My name is” instead of “This is” Jolene, for a more personal touch. Otherwise, it’s the best phone greeting of all 10 schools. Awesome job, Jolene!!)  

The main sign on the North High campus read: July Registration 26 9-2 27 1-7 Aug 2 football 9am

That could probably be updated.

They were doing a lot of updating at NHS; the entire building is being remodeled and so is in a bit of a state of controlled chaos.

What wasn’t chaotic was Brady, who, dapperly dressed, calmly and kindly greeted me with a smile outside, at the top of the steps.

After I explained why I was there, Brady said, “There’s a lot of diversity here, low economic status.”

Okay. You might want to lead with something other than that, but okay.

“Johnston is the opposite,” he continued. “Low diversity, high economic status.”

While that may be true, there are probably better ways to sell a prospective parent on the merits of North.   

Brady invited me to look around the building, and told me I could get a visitor’s badge in the office – although he neglected to tell me where that was at. He also could have taken me there, although I understood that he was busy.

They were also busy in the office. There were several students and teachers hovering around the two receptionists, one of whom was Karen, who greeted me with an unsmiling “hi” as she also dealt with a student. The woman working beside her, who was on the phone in the office as I entered, sort of slammed it down and said “I can’t take care of that today” to no one in particular.

A teacher brought in a student who was clearly in trouble. “Sit there and don’t move,” he said, sitting the young man next to me.

The kid soon stood up, which didn’t sit well with either of the receptionists, who, along with the teacher, expressed their displeasure. 

“He told you not to move,” said the receptionist. “You move, you get in trouble,” chimed in Karen. “You weren’t supposed to move, and you moved,” added the teacher.

I sat, motionless.

In a few minutes, Jessica Gogerty, a School Improvement Leader, appeared.

“Let me take care of this boy first, and then you’re up,” she said.

It’s a trick, kid – don’t fall for it.

The situation was quickly handled, and I was invited into Jessica’s office, where she kindly smiled, greeted me, offered me a chair and began to talk about the merits of North High School.

“There’s a rich diversity at North,” she began. “We have low test scores, and the highest poverty level.”

I’d heard a similar sales pitch from Brady.

Jessica began talking about Matt Smith, the new North High Principal, and her eyes lit up like the NHS basketball scoreboard.

“Our new principal just started this year. He’s quite a dynamic guy, and we’re very excited about having him here.” Matt, it turns out, is also a transplanted Texan. Hope he doesn’t show up and want to start comparing notes about our home states. (Truth be told, I did live in Texas for a while, just not long enough to have a cogent conversation about it with a top-level administrator, no matter how good at being full of flop I am.)

Someone who apparently transplanted himself right out of job, according to Jessica, was the previous principal.

“Our principle retired in 2003 and was replaced by a man who was nice but was in over his head and just not up to the job.”

I’ll put that in the “more information than I needed to know” file.

Jessica had left her door open while we chatted, which several kids saw, reasonably enough, as an open door invitation to walk in and chew the fat.

“I’m in a meeting right now,” Jessica patiently told several students who walked in. Close the door and it may at least slow them down.

Jessica spoke passionately and lovingly about North High School.

“It’s a great place for our students to learn and grow. My daughter attends here and takes accelerated classes at Central Campus.”

That said a lot.

“Athletically, we don’t win a lot of games,” she went on. “But we rule the roost in academic contests.”

My son’s a chip off the ole blockhead – which means his participation in NHS athletics would lead to further losses.

Jessica also said something that was quite endearing.

“Walk around, talk to other schools, see what you think.” That comes from someone who obviously doesn’t just care about North High School, but cares, period.

Jessica asked me a question or two and could have asked a few more. She didn’t say my name during our conversation, or refer to Logan by his. She also didn’t get my follow-up information, which would have allowed her to shoot me off a quick thank-you email that would have added some extra polish to impress a parent – always important, but especially when you’re a school that’s struggling.

As we finished up, I walked to the door and turned around to thank her; too slow, poke! She had already turned away and was engaging another student who sat outside her office.

Hope you didn’t move, kid.

As I walked out the main door, something Jessica said kept coming back to me.

“I have a lot of faith in this school.”

You took the words right out of every teacher’s and administrator’s mouth, Jessica.

    

Roosevelt High School

3/4   

Phone greeting: “Roosevelt High School, Kim speaking. How can I help you?” (GREAT energy, Kim! And awesome job with the open-ended question! Now add a “Thank you for calling” at the beginning, and try “My name is Kim” instead and you’ll be a phone answering rock-star! Great job!)

Dona and Julie were amazing.

First, Dona; she was engaged on the phone as I entered the main office but still smiled and acknowledged me. Nice job!

Then Julie – after I told her why I was there - led me to the Vice Principal’s office instead of pointing. Nice job II!

The VP wasn’t around nor was anyone else who could take me on a tour or engage me about Roosevelt, so Julie thoughtfully did so.

She mentioned that Logan’s homeschooling credits wouldn’t count, talked enthusiastically about Central Campus and was extremely kind, engaging, friendly and thoughtful.

This is why it’s hard to share the following with you.

Julie asked me what I was looking for in a school, for Logan, and I replied that it was socialization – learning how to matriculate with the world. Being able to get along with other people, I told her, was the most important factor in selecting a high school for my son, more than academics (“He’s brilliant”) or athletics (“He can’t juggle one ball”).

“Socialization…” she replied, letting it hang there for a moment.

I asked her why she’d paused.

She looked at me, thoughtfully.

“I took my kids out of Des Moines Public Schools because of academics,” said the Roosevelt employee. “Urbandale, West Des Moines, Johnston – that’s what you should look at. They all have good programs. I could get in trouble for telling you that.”

Julie instantly became my personal hero.

But I also have a professional responsibility to hold employees, managers, business owners and myself accountable for the way we engage consumers.

I respect Julie for doing what she thought was right; there are just better, more productive ways to do it than to toss your employer under the bus.

I hope you find those ways, Julie; the Des Moines school system needs them.

    

Urbandale High School

1/2 

Phone greeting: “Urbandale High School, this is Cheryl.” (That’s an average greeting for an above average school, Cheryl. Give it some oomph! How about a “Thank you for calling” at the beginning, and a “how can I help you?” at the end? And remember, you’d never greet someone in person with “This is Cheryl.” Instead, try “My name is Cheryl.” It’s a small difference that makes a big impact!)

Liz greeted me with a quick but smile-free “hi” as I approached. After explaining why I was there, she pointed towards Tim Carver, the Assistant Principal, who warmly greeted me, shook my hand, asked for my name but forgot to give his own until a bit later.

After I told Tim why I was there, he said something very classy: “You can’t go wrong with any Des Moines schools,” and meant it. Nice job!

Still, Tim seemed a big disengaged at first; he rattled off facts and stats about Urbandale, reciting them by rote rather than selling them from the heart. He described Urbandale’s “connections” program, which helps kids, reasonably enough, connect, creating faster, deeper bonds while, very smartly, reducing the risk of student violence.

Tim started to say, “Well, it’s Football Friday so we’re all pretty busy around here…” – here came my cue to scram – then caught himself, paused, rethought it, then said the six most beautiful words an administrator can say to a parent.

“What is your son interested in?”

I told him: “Clarinet and piano.”

You would have thought I said, “In handing you a check for $1,000,000.”

“Jonnie, we have a strong music program,” he said through a smile, saying my name for the first time. From that point forward, Tim was totally engaged and energized. He suggested we go on a tour of the Campus, which we did. He showed off UHS’s stunning Performing Arts Center, showed me the chorus and band rehearsal rooms and introduced me to Mr. Peterson and Mr. Keller, the band directors.

I had a bit of a freak out moment when I thought I saw a look of You look like the Unsecret Shopper recognition in Mr. Keller’s eyes, but he either played it cool and alerted school officials later, or, like most people, hasn’t read the blog, doesn’t listen to the show and wouldn’t know me if he ran over me with the xylophone.

Later, I thought it was very cool of Tim to say that “Johnston and Waukee, our neighbors, are growing,” without adding but they totally suck, and here’s why.

Back in his office, Tim encouraged me to call him if I had any questions, shook my hand, thanked me for coming and told me to have a great day. Awesome job!

You could have and should have asked me for my contact info, Tim, but then again, no one did, so you’re in good company. You started out a bit detached, but once you tached, you rocked!

The kids may have “connections,” but you just made one.

    

Valley High School

3/4   

Phone greeting: “Valley High School (indecipherable) Baker speaking.” (I suspect you were busy when I called, and that’s understood. But the greatest talent is to never let people know that, especially callers. Slow down, enunciate and treat every word you say as important, because it is. )

I entered the building and was greeted with a smile by the sitting Tim, the security guard.

I told him why I was there, to which he responded with something he’s probably said over 1,203,985,112,779,001 times since last Tuesday: “You want the nickel tour or the dime tour?”

I.e. do you want me to point to where you have to go, or do you want to make me get up off my fanny and take you there?

No, Tim - I want the $500,000 tour. Everybody does. But when you ask, and especially when you ask like that, it makes us feel like we’re not worth the nickel, let alone the dime.

Next time, don’t ask. Just do. Thank you.

In the Administration Office Tim directed me to, Mrs. Hartz greeted me with a quick smile and nice “Hi.”

I explained my Texas/kid/homeschooling dealio, to which she replied, “We’re a very nice school…she’ll have some handouts for you in counseling.”

Oh. Is that when the very nice stuff will start?

Mrs. Hartz, I’m sure you are a very nice person, working for a very nice school, don’t get me wrong. But unless you back up your words with actions – like asking me my name, using it while we talked, telling me who “she” is, why I need to see her and maybe even taking me to her office, ya know, to be very nice - it’s kinda like you’re Tim, only without the guard outfit.

Very nice school? Sure. Just remember the mission statement of the Buyosphere: Live up to the promise of your marketing.

I entered the Counseling office, told Mrs. Rourke why I was there and watched her stand up and say, pleasantly enough but without a smile, “Let me get you a class catalog and calendar.”

Oh. Will it say when the very niceness is scheduled to start?

When it comes to the battle of the knowledge and experience of People (who I’d come to see) vs. the information written on sheets of Paper (which I could see online), People win, every time. I was there to see some, about Valley, where people work and learn and stuff.

She came back, packet and calendar in hand, laid them on me, then asked me a back-breaker of a closed-ended question: “Is there anything I can answer for you?”

Nope. I just drove all the way up here from Texas to get these dead trees, which contain the sum whole parts of the Valley High School experience. I’m solid!

You were pleasant enough, Mrs. Rourke, and I know you were being polite. But I told you I’d never been to Des Moines and that I was visiting from Texas, nearly 800 miles from where you were asking me if you could answer anything for me about a school that I’d never seen, in a town I’d never been to, both of which I was visiting specifically because I was looking for answers.

Clearly, what you can answer for me is everything, since I’m Sergeant Schultz, and know nothing.

Then the derailed train burst into flames.

“If you decided on Valley, you can schedule a time to meet with a counselor and go over everything.”

But…isn’t that why I came here, to find someone who could help me decide BEFORE I decide? Isn’t that what the counselors do? HELP parents and students decide on whether Valley is where they’re deciding to decide on, BEFORE they decide it?

I decided I knew enough. Mrs. Rourke thanked me through a friendly smile, and that was that: no contact info asked for, no name used during the conversation, no asking me a single question about my son, myself, our lives, our anything, and no offering to introduce me to someone who could give me a tour, tell me the 4-1-1, sell me the program or feed me a cookie. 

It was time to head back to the Longhorn State.

    

Overall…

High Schools generally can’t afford to hire professional tour guides. Yet Tatia (Dowling), Katie (Johnston) and Tim (Urbandale) certainly played the role (Honorable mention – Isaac, the customer service stud from Dowling); all three of you were enthusiastic, engaging, passionate, authentic and, in spite of the trash talk from the girls, awesome! You are wonderful assets for your respective schools, which are very lucky to have you on their payroll. Thank you so much for making my trip up from Texas, worth it!

For the rest of the high schools - for all of them, actually – the good work continues. May the wind be at your backs.

As the teachers, administrators and support staff inside our local high schools - all of them, not just those with a Des Moines zip code – work tirelessly and thanklessly to make sure the education machine keeps building young people who can do more than flip a burger or write a blog, may they also stop on occasion and remind themselves of the importance of lessons not found in textbooks but in laughter, in love not lectures, learned when they too were children, who smiled at strangers, greeted without fear, engaged without hesitation and thanked, and meant it.

It is an example as adults that you can lead by, a code that your children one day may live by.

Teach your children well.  

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

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Click to email Jonnie (jonnie@theunsecretshopper.com)    

Phone: 515-480-4190

 

Hello shoppers…

“Our bombs are smarter than the average high school student. At least they can find Kuwait.” -A. Whitney Brown, Comedian

 

Student graduation rates that have bombed aside, high school stinks. 

It stunk for our parents (Grease notwithstanding), it stunk for us and it stinks for our kids.

Oh sure, there’s the non-stinking Friday chocolate milk and Friday pep rallies and Friday football games and no school Friday after Thursday Thanksgiving.

Otherwise, high school is just one big acne-riddled bully-beat down locker room awkward gut-wrenching girl crushing pop quiz taking stench-fest.

Somehow we survive what someone once described as “The mouse race that prepares us for the rat race,” relatively unscathed (Charles Whitman and Kurt Cobain notwithstanding cause they’re no longer standing).

Teachers and administrators - while official implementers (along with parents) of high school torture - are also underpaid saviors and unsung Heroes throughout it; they help mold, meld and maneuver young minds through the battlefield of their adolescence with a skilled, deft touch. The worst teacher I ever had is one of the best people I’ve ever known.

Where kids go to high school is determined to a large degree by where they are born, the socio-economic environment they are born into and plain dumb luck. I was born in Des Moines, started in Ankeny, ended up in Cambridge, attended Ballard High School and have no idea why. It just kinda worked out that way.    

Yet for some parents, there’s more to it than that; many visit with teachers and administrators, illicit opinions from parents and students and gather information that will help them make an informed decision on where to send Junior to be incarcerated/educated.

In other words: they shop for a school. (Yeaaaaa! Shopping!!!)

Which brings us to the nutty retail world of The Unsecret Shopper, and his Secret Shopper review of Des Moines area high schools, Part I. (Part II is Friday.)

Before we continue, let us establish a few things:

1. Des Moines Public Schools are terrible.

2. I know this because it’s all I hear and read.

3. I believe everything I hear and read unless it’s a bad review of The Unsecret Shopper.

Des Moines High Schools (along with all high schools) do have some issues, particularly East, North and Lincoln, which The Iowa Department of Education has rated as “persistently low-achieving” because of low state test scores and eroding graduation rates.

This review isn’t about that. If you want to debate the merits of our education system and the inner machinations of The Des Moines School Board, listen to local talk radio. If you want to see why our entire education system is eroding, watch the incendiary documentary Waiting For Superman, which is scheduled to hit Des Moines theaters in the next few weeks.  If you want to guarantee that your kids get an education that meets your expectations, homeschool them.  

If you want to see how administrators, school employees and students engage a humble blogger posing as a prospective student’s parent, then read on.

Speaking of home schooled, that’s “Logan’s” scenario. He’s “my 15 year-old son.” Logan and I “are moving from Tyler, Texas to the Des Moines area.” I’ve “home-schooled him since he was 3.” I “taught him to play the clarinet and piano.” He’s “not terribly athletic but is brilliant.” (No one asked for a Texas definition of “brilliant.”) We’ll be “moving to the Des Moines area within 60 days” and I’ve traveled up here ”to check out schools and neighborhoods” to decide on the best fit for “my little Logie.” I am self-employed and travel a lot, ”so it doesn’t matter where we live in the Des Moines area.” I just want my son to learn “socialization skills,” and “how to avoid using excessive quotation marks.”

This presents a few challenges, particularly if I’m thinking about enrolling Logan in a Des Moines Public School, where homeschooling generally doesn’t count for credit towards graduation; he’d be starting at zero.

In Texas, I can homeschool him to a PhD. 

I dropped by 10 Des Moines area high schools over a period of three days: the five Metro public high schools, and five in the ‘burbs: East, Hoover, Lincoln, North, Roosevelt, Ankeny, Johnston, Urbandale, Valley and Dowling. I described my scenario to whoever I encountered in the main office, and they took it from there.

Let me write out loud that schools are busy places full of busy teachers and administrators; I certainly didn’t expect to be treated like I was shopping for khakis at The Gap.

Yet as efforts intensify to narrow the gap between student test scores and parental and educator expectations, how much effort can or should be made to also teach, by example or by design, at school and at home, the art of simple manners, good ambassadorship and the power of the fundamental precepts of simple human kindness and decency: smile, greet, engage and thank?  Where Math, Science, History and English rule the roost, does being nice lay an egg?

Mouse race, rat race or human race?

Here’s how we keep score for human beings:

    

  Horrific – a customer service nuclear bomb that’s every owner’s worst nightmare. The kind of service you call your friends to complain about.       

   Weak - a lot of work to be done, but there’s hope.       

   Forgettable – not great, not bad. This is where most businesses end up.       

   Strong - some very good things are going on. Just needs some tweaking.       

   Stellar - first-rate, exceptional, off the hizzle. The kind of exemplary service you call your friends to brag about.    

    

I’m a parent with a son, searching for a school. Will I get treated like I’m at the head of the class, or like the booger-eater in the back row?

    

(Schools are listed in alphabetical order)

Ankeny High School    

3/4    

Phone greeting: “Ankeny High School, this is Lorrie, can I help you?” (That’s why I (or anyone else) am calling, because we need your help, right? You answered with a very pleasant and smiley tone, Lorrie - now ask a pleasant, smiley open-ended question, like, ”What can I help you with?”)

Myrna was at the front entrance door and greeted with a big smile and equally large “Hi!” as she checked me in.

She took me over to Tony Aylsworth, the Assistant Principal, who kept the glad-handling going by smiling, shaking my hand, introducing himself and asking for my name.

After I laid out my scenario, Tony jumped enthusiastically into everything AHS. He talked at length about the school’s academic, athletic and music achievements, explained that another high school was being built, directed me toward the AHS website which had more info, got me a student handbook which had more info and apologized for not having more printed material with more info. 

The one thing Tony didn’t do is ask me any questions – about how many kids I have, their ages, where they go to school, what they’re interested in, why we’re relocating, etc.

He came close. As Tony rattled off everything he knew about Ankeny High School, he said, “I don’t know how many kids you have but…” and then continued. Later he said, “I don’t know what your kids are interested in but…” and away he went. D’oh!

You are obviously very passionate about Ankeny High School, Tony, and rightfully so. I grew up just 10 miles north of it, and know Ankeny High School has much to be proud of.

But a conversation is only a conversation if you include the other person in it, especially someone you’re meeting for the first time. It’s like going on a date with someone (I call it retail dating) and having them ramble on about themselves without seeming like they give a hoot and a holler about you. That’s not someone we’re likely to go out with again.

 Your enthusiasm was fantastic, Tony! (I challenge the cheerleaders to hook you up with one of their outfits and a pair of pom-poms.) But without asking me a question, it’s pretty much like watching a great PowerPoint presentation, and I could have gotten that online and saved myself the $450 round-trip airfare.

I call this engagement, the Third Pillar of Great Customer Service, and there is no question in my mind that you’ll remember to engage and ask a question – probably a few – next time.

Also, I told you my name – don’t forget to use it (as part of that Third Pillar). While you were talking about the facility, you could have also offered me a tour of it. And while you did give me your business card with your contact info on it, you didn’t ask for mine. That’s a missed opportunity to really glad-handle a parent.

As Tony took me into the main office, I was less than glad to see a very familiar face.

My great fear was that I’d see someone at AHS that I knew there goes my cover; particularly Gary Telford, who’d once taught my own Ballard High School, and is now Ankeny’s Athletic Director. Gary was a wonderful teacher and is an all-around great guy, and we’ve bumped into each other a time or two over the past 25 years.

Make it 26. Gary entered the office just as Tony had left to get a handbook. We recognized each other immediately. (He has one of the smiliest faces on the planet.)

Gary smiled (naturally) and said, “How are you?” and not like he’d just bumped into an unknown Texan.

I smiled back but stayed silent, then decided to let the cat outta the bag as Tony returned.

Tony smiled – kinda; it’s no fun being snookered. But it’s for a great cause, Tony and you did very well. Besides, I also got to reconnect with Gary, who will be retiring after 35 years of positively impacting the lives of young people.

I’d keep a real close eye on Mr. Telford till spring, Tony; he’s going to be nothing but trouble. :)

    

    

Dowling High School    

3/4

Phone greeting: “Dowling Catholic High School, may I help you?” (Nice enough on the phone, but give it a more personal touch by thanking the caller for calling, identifying yourself by name, and asking an open-ended question that requires a more expansive answer than “yes” or ”no.”)

Joel greeted me at the greeter’s counter, listened to why I was there, then pointed and said, “First door. They’ll help you.”

Sure. But what would be more helpful is if you’d take me where I needed to go, Joel. You could have also asked for my name and introduced me to the proper person: that’s real polish from a polished greeter. You were pleasant and flashed a quick and beautiful smile, Joel. Now take it to another level, especially with a parent who’s traveled 740 miles to come see you.

Tatia, Dowling’s Admission’s Assistant, spent the next 60 minutes making me feel like my long journey was worth it.

Tatia greeted with a huge smile that rarely left her face. She used my name repeatedly throughout our incredible tour of Dowling’s incredible campus. She remembered details about my son Logan and repeated them to the teachers and students she introduced me to along the way. She wasn’t afraid to go right into a classroom where a class was meeting so I could see the teacher/students in action. She took me down every hallway and showed off and described every important room, from band and chorus practice and performance halls to the chapel, gym and cafeteria. And her happy bounce and smile never left her step or face, ever.

Tatia was, in a word, stunning.

An example of that stunningness occurred early on in the tour, when she asked me, “Are you Catholic or Christian?”

Buddhist. Instead I opted for the less bemusing but more accurate, “I’m a Christian.”

She explained that Dowling is a private school; that 95% of Dowling students are Catholic, and Catholics and non-Catholics pay tuition, but that the first pays less than the second.

It would have been easy – and typical – for her to lead with this information. Yet she simply brought it up in the normal flow of conversation, and never made me feel like I was getting less of a tour, just because I wasn’t Catholic. That was impressive.

What was also impressive was how happy and polite the kids and teachers were. 

Mrs. Arnold was wonderfully engaging. Ally and Emily sung Dowling’s praises, as did Kayla, who shook my hand without me extending mine first and even asked me my name, then used it. Holy customer service stud, Batman.  Dr. Jerry Deegan, Dowling’s president, was also very friendly and engaging.

Yet it was Tatia who was the flat-out hands-down customer service Dowling High School rock star.

To prove it, I called her back a few days later, not certain that we’d talked about whether Dowling counts homeschooling towards grade-placement and graduation.

She wasn’t sure and told me she’d find out. That part really doesn’t matter.

What does is that Tatia remembered my name – “Jonnie! How are you?” – and she remembered Logan’s, too, plus she also remembered the fact that I’d told her that I had full custody of Logan – I’d mentioned it during my visit - as well as other small details from our conversation.

I was literally listening on the phone with my mouth gaping open; anybody who is that engaging and has that good of a memory, really should be working for the CIA, Tatia. Wow

My guess is that Tatia is just a genuinely happy person who is great with people and great at retail, someone who could give you a fun tour of a burning building and convince you to buy it.

There were two missteps, and one was a pretty good-sized one.

First, towards the end of the tour, I asked what anyone contemplating relocating to a city, might ask about it: “What’s the good side of Des Moines? What’s the bad side?”

Tatia replied, “The west side is definitely the best. The east side is where the poorer families live. I wouldn’t want to live on the east side…but that’s just me.”

You probably should have talked about why west is best and left the negatives to my imagination, Tatia. Yes, you were being honest. Yes, you meant well. Yes, you were simply giving me the answer I was looking for. But tossing a part of your town under the bus tends to toss the entire town under it and to some extent, you and Dowling along with it.

Next time, take the high ground; stay positive, and keep singing the praises of what’s good. The visitor will fill in the rest. I know you’re likely to beat yourself up about it, but there’s no need. Just learn from it – you’ve got so much of the most important stuff down!

The ball also got dropped a bit as Tatia handed me off to Katie, Dowling’s Head of Admissions.

While it may have been proper protocol (Katie was out when I first arrived but had returned as we were finishing up the tour), it also felt like a bit of a letdown, no offense to you, Katie. It’s just that Tatia had done a magnificent job up to that moment, and there was no good reason to pass me along. At that point (nobody’s fault) the bottom sort of fell out of the energy boat.

Katie, you did just fine. Just don’t forget to use my name during our conversation, especially at the end when you shake my hand, which you also didn’t do. Yikes! Also, neither you nor Tatia got my contact info. There, right there is a tremendous opportunity to make me feel like I (and my son) am a part of the Dowling family.

One more thing? Give Tatia a raise, otherwise some very smart company is going to hire her away from you.

    

East High School

    

Phone greeting: “East High School, this is Carol.” (You were very pleasant, but try saying “My name is Carol,” which is how we introduce ourselves in person, and is more personal. Plus, thank them for calling, and ask how you can help them.)

Entering the office, I walked up to Carol’s desk and told her why I was there. She said, unsmilingly, “I don’t know…what can I tell you…what are you trying to find out?”

I explained a few more times – four, actually. I think you were confused as to what I wanted, Carol, and I understand your frustration. But you never smiled, and became what I would call rude. There are better ways to treat parents of prospective students, Carol.

JoAnne, who was nearby, started to tell me a bit about EHS.

“It’s diverse…VERY diverse,” she said and then let out a sarcastic chortle.

Heh.

At that point I got the feeling that no one was terribly enthusiastic about EHS, or me being inside it.

Roxanne, a counselor, showed up just in time, with a beautiful smile and engaging manner.

“Let’s go where it’s quiet,” she said. I expected to be led into her office. Instead, she took me out into the hallway, where we sat down on a stone seat.  

No problem.

Roxanne started almost immediately by telling me that East is “a persistently low achieving school” with “the lowest test scores.” 

That’s kind of like a waiter telling you that the restaurant has been shut down several times by the Department of Health, then handing you a menu.

Roxanne recovered nicely by saying that East “has a new administration, new management, new everything.” Next time, start with that, Roxanne. Good news first blunts the force of the not so good news later. (“Honey, I love you. Now, about the car…”) But once you’ve started with bad, it’s really hard to recover.

Roxanne did a nice job of describing college credit classes at East. “You get DMACC credit without DMACC prices,” she said. Awesome! “Courses are subject to change, due to budget cuts.” Not so awesome!  

Roxanne also did a great job of selling East, passionately describing its great softball teams, band, chorus and drama programs.

Roxanne also asked me some nice questions about Logan. However, as soon as I told her he was home-schooled, she said, “His credits won’t count. He’ll be starting at zero.”

That didn’t sound good. I remember getting a lot of zeros in high school, and they were generally not well-received.

That’s a real bummer for you real homeschoolers, although I’m sure you figure out a way through it. Roxanne wanted to introduce me to another advisor who she said could perhaps do just that, but the person never materialized.

At that point, Roxanne asked me if I wanted to take a tour. That was a nice offer. A better one would be, “Let’s take a tour.” It has a more engaging feel to it, Roxanne. And don’t worry; the person will tell you if they can, without you giving them the option of that they can’t.

Roxanne didn’t use my name and didn’t thank me at the end but did shake my hand and flashed her adorable smile. She also didn’t get my contact info, or even an email address, which she could have used to send me a nice thank-you note for stopping in – just a thought.

You were kind and engaging, Roxanne. You took time out of your busy schedule to sit down and chat with me (in the privacy of the echoing hallway ) Just remember to lead with the positives, because East is a beautiful school, and deserves it.     

    

Hoover High School

    

Phone greeting: “Thank you for calling Hoover (indecipherable) this is (Elaine?). Can I help you?” (A nice, happy delivery but slow down a bit so an old man can understand you, and lose that old-school closed-ended question, Elaine – if that’s your name! )

Candy greeted me in the hall with an unsmiling “hi” but did let one come to her face as she led me towards Doug Wheeler, Hoover’s principal, who was also in the hall and apologized for not being able to engage me just then because he was on lunch hallway duty. Doug smiled and kindly invited me to come back later that afternoon when he could give me a tour. I said yes but was lying and didn’t know it, as I had another dealio scheduled.

I came back the next day, undealioed, and went into the main office, where Mary Lou smiled and said “hi,” then started to speak about Hoover.

“We have great diversity. What can I tell you?”

She led me into the office of the man who would have much more to share.

“This man is relocating and wants to know more about Hoover. Oh, I didn’t ask you your name,” she said, thoughtfully.

“Jonnie,” I reasonably replied.

“Jon? Jon – uh, Jonnie, this is Melvin Green, our Vice Principal.”

Nice recovery, Mary Lou.

Melvin shook my hand, politely thanked me for stopping by, welcomed me to Hoover then launched into a very passionate and positive description of the school.

“We were built in the late 60′s, the newest school in the district,” he told me, “and we’re not stuck in the old paradigm.” He rightfully bragged that Hoover “has the lowest dropout rate and highest rate of re-engaging students,” and said that “there are opportunities for kids to get involved,” that “we emphasize diversity,” and that “all of our kids get along.”

Okay, so the last serving was a bologna sandwich. But everything leading up to it was pretty much delicious pizza, tater tots and chocolate milk.

Melvin is a wonderfully endearing man who is very passionate about Hoover and its students – and it shows.

Unfortunately, he was so wrapped up in his description of Hoover that he forgot to ask me a single question - at the beginning, in the middle or at the end. He doesn’t know how many kids I have, their ages, what they’re interested in, when we’re moving, why we’re moving, what I do – anything. 

Ouch.

He never asked me if I wanted to take a tour of the school.

Ouch II.

Melvin was extremely gracious at the end and said “Thank you, sir.” That’s respectful but not personable. Melvin, my name is Jonnie; if you don’t remember it, then ask me, no problem.

You’re a very passionate man, Melvin, and thank you for being so. But a 10 minute conversation with you can’t just be you talking, otherwise it’s a monologue and not a conversation, and I dated her. As passionate as you are about your school, I’m probably just as passionate about my son. So ask me about him, step into our world, plug into our imagination, dial into our dreams, our hopes, our everything, because our everything is pretty cool, and certainly worth knowing.

Do that, Melvin, and we’ll enthusiastically call Hoover, home. Why wouldn’t we?  

    

Johnston High School

3/4

Phone greeting: “Good afternoon, Johnston High School, this is C(K)athy.” (Nicely delivered, just change the “this is” to “my name is” for a more personal touch, and don’t forget to thank them for calling at the beginning and ask them how you can help them at the end.)

In the main office, Lois, unsmiling, glanced between me and her computer monitor as she said, “Hi, how can I help you?” Awesome open-ended question, Lois. Just make sure you’re looking at me when you ask it, since that dumb monitor can’t answer, anyway. You also flashed a nice smile at the end, which would look even better at the beginning, don’t you think??

Audrey Bell, a Johnston High School guidance counselor, was having a conversation with Mrs. Marckmann at the front desk. In the meantime I engaged Isaac, a JHS football player and band member who should immediately be hired as a school spokesperson. He was extremely articulate, passionate about Johnston High School and not only said “You should enroll Logan here” (which no one else, teacher or administrator, said, in 10 school visits – that’s called asking for the sale, kid) but also said he looked forward to meeting him, and even welcomed me back as I left!

Based upon Isaac, I was ready to sign the admission papers.

Audrey finished her convo, introduced herself, smiled, shook my hand, got my name and invited me into her office, where she talked excitedly about everything JHS has to offer.

As soon as I mentioned that Logan was homeschooled, she gave me the bad news about none of that being applicable to his graduation, but did say that perhaps he could take online classes and test out. That made me feel like not all was lost. Nice job!

Audrey also did a nice job of giving me a tour of the school. She pointed out and sang the praises of Brian Lutter, the Phys Ed teacher, who was working out with students in a massive weight and workout room that I wanted to join. She remembered Logan’s affinity for music, showing off an immense band room that would induce envy from Carnegie Hall players, as well as a cafeteria with one of the most breathtaking views I’ve ever seen. That would make “Monday’s mystery loaf” a bit more digestible, I suspect.

What didn’t sit quite as well was her answer to the question “Is there a good side of town and a bad side of town?”

“Unofficially, yes,” she said. Uh-oh. Here it comes…

“The best place for your family is west.”

Yee-haw! Awesome answer! Rescind the uh-ho!

Then: “If I lived downtown, I wouldn’t put my kid in the Des Moines Public Schools. They’ve had a lot of issues.”

Rescind the rescindsion. Cue the uh-oh. Feels like mystery loaf.  

You just can’t go there, Audrey. I know you meant well. But you can’t go there, not in your position. You really had the right answer by holding up your own side of town. Stay with it, and what is left unsaid will be heard, loud and clear.

You also stopped and talked to two JHS students but didn’t introduce me – you coulda. You also didn’t use my name or Logan’s during our conversation - you shoulda. You also didn’t ask for my contact info - you woulda, had you known the Six Pillars of Great Customer Service.

What I also know is that you have an extraordinary passion for Johnston High School, and you allowed it to show through; that is a talent that you were born with, and a skill you can teach others.

Now go do it.

TOMORROW: Part II, including Secret Shopper reviews of Lincoln, North, Roosevelt, Urbandale and Valley.

      

Jonnie Wright is a customer service evaluator and trainer, professional secret shopper, marketing strategist and host of The Unsecret Shopper Radio Show, Saturday mornings 8-9am, on 1350, KRNT.       

    

    

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