Discipline makes Daring possible.

Paying is part of the experience

Paying is part of the experience

I vividly remember the butterflies in my stomach as I handed over the cash. It was a lot of money to pay for a book – £40, when a paperback cost less than £1.

Would it be worth it? Would I regret it? What were the other people in the shop thinking of me as the assistant handed it to me, here in this ‘insider’ shop, catering to the trade?

They were oblivious of course, but for me, buying this book was my initiation into the world of fashion designers and insiders, the people who go deeper than the weekly magazines or even Vogue. Handing over what my friends and colleagues saw as an obscene amount of money for a book was an essential part of that experience.

If, like many small businesses, you see payment as an add-on, a bit of admin you’d rather put off, you’re depriving your client of the chance to relive the reasons they agreed to buy from you, diminishing their experience and in the process, subtly de-valuing what you’ve given them.

If paying is part of the experience, then taking payment is part of the service and that means it should be an integral part of your process.

The Promise

The Promise

Every great business is founded on a promise.

Not to shareholders.

Not to staff.

To prospects and customers.

The promise of a change that’s yearned for, that’s worth more than the money in my pocket.

A promise you do your utmost to keep.

All businesses have such a promise, it shows, but it isn’t always articulated explicitly.

Making it explicit, and sharing it with your team is the first step in building a framework that enables them to deliver it on your behalf.

The first (and last) rule of your enabling framework:

If in doubt, remember the promise, then do what it takes to deliver that.

Traps for the unwary

Traps for the unwary

Today I had to pay £14.95 to get out of a car park (on top my parking).

Because the user interface had been (deliberately?) designed to let me forget to take my token back.

The payment console had very visibly prompted me to insert my parking token with an eye-catching animated graphic, but there was no eye-catching graphic to prompt me to take it back again. I didn’t realise my mistake until I reached the exit barrier.

Up to that point I’d had a good morning, spending my money in a local museum coffee shop, a couple of clothes stores and a bookshop.

“There is a sign on the machine.”, aaid the man on the other end of the intercom.

“But I was looking at the screen.”, I replied. “And I’ve never parked here before.”

“That’s just how it is I’m afraid. I’ll send a transaction to the machine for you to pay the fine. It will issue you with a replacement token”

Yes, it was that easy for them to let me have another token to exit the car park.

Oh well. I won’t do it again.

Because I’m never shopping in Maidstone again.

What traps are you laying for unwary customers?

Intentional or not, they’ll lose you business.

image: Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Make my day…

Make my day…

This morning, I did a bit of shopping on my way home from my early morning networking. 

At the till, I waited behind another lady, while the woman serving us chatted to an old lady at the end of the checkout.   I didn’t mind, I wasn’t in a hurry, and the chat wasn’t stopping the assistant serving us.

After the old lady left, the assistant explained that this was a regular occurrence.    Every day, the 94 year-old looks in to see if her friend is on the checkout, and if she is, comes in to have a few minutes chat. 

“I like dealing with people.  I don’t have grandparents or parents any more, so I don’t mind, and I think it helps her feel a bit less lonely. “

Both I and the lady before me joined in.   That means that at least 4 people have been ‘seen’ – acknowledged as human beings – in this exchange, that didn’t take any longer than the usual checkout.

“Actually, I think it makes her day.”

It did mine.

Thank you.

 

Frans Hals [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons