Discipline makes Daring possible.

Start from where they are

Start from where they are

Decades ago, I rescued my mother from a tiny rock, in a shallow sea.   No big deal you might think, but she had poor eyesight, vertigo, and couldn’t swim.  She was used to staying on the sand.  She was panicking, hiding it because she’s our mum, and supposed to be in charge.

I might have been tempted to shout from my place halfway up the beach: “Just step in, it’s not deep, you’ll be fine!”

But I didn’t.   I paddled out to her, took her by the hand, and helped her to put one foot down and the water and see just how shallow it was.  I got her to put her next foot down, letting her lean on me until she felt steady on her feet.

Then I let her walk by herself the rest of the way.

When what you offer is new, it is also scary.   It doesn’t matter that you know the rock is tiny and the sea is shallow.   Your prospect doesn’t know that, not emotionally, where it matters.

Don’t just shout from a distance, move to where they are, accompany them on the first steps of their journey.   Then let them move forward with dignity.

They’ll remember that for the rest of their life.

Look behind

Look behind

Queues are annoying, and rarely the fault of the individual dealing with the front of them.

Tutting because the person is serving someone else at the other end of the store may make you feel better, but it’s unfair.

Look behind your immediate experience to see what’s really going on – a single person is being expected to look after what is effectively 2 stores – the shop counter and the post office counter (3 if you count the coffee kiosk).  Despite Schrödinger’s dicoveries, at the macro level of human bodies, they can’t be in two places at once.

Tutting again because they’re not happy about the situation is even more unfair.

If you don’t like the customer experience you’re getting, complain to the people who designed the system.  And if it doesn’t improve things, vote with your feet.

The people behind these systems rely on us taking things out on the person in front of us.  Because that way we keep everything running just fine – for them.

Consumption is a vital part of the system we all live under.  Like everything else we do, we can do it mindfully, intentionally, and with the aim of making things better.

 

 

Empathy comes before logic

Empathy comes before logic

When you’re on the receiving end of a complaint about your product or service, it’s tempting to rush into fixing the ‘problem’ through the use of logic.  “Nobody else has complained about that.”; “That can’t have happened.”; “Ok, let’s replace it.”, or “Here’s your money back.”

What you’re missing when you do this is an amazing chance to create a stronger connection with the customer or client in front of you.

If you start with empathy, acknowledging how they feel, aiming to understand how their real needs have been let down by the perceived failure, you’ll show them that you truly care about them as a person.

That enables you both to collaborate constructively on how best to meet those needs, and address that failure in a way that is often less damaging or expensive for you business, and more positive for the customer.

In other words, empathy is more efficient than logic.

Superficiality

Superficiality

I had my blood test yesterday.   Ahead of me in the queue was an angry (not rude) man.   He’d waited 2 weeks for his appointment and taken time off work to attend, only to be told “You’re not on our list”.

Testing was a pretty efficient set-up, with 3 people taking samples for 3 people every 5 minutes, so they were able to fit him in.

During my turn I asked what had gone wrong.

“It’s the call centre”, I was told.  ‘They send us about 30 people a day, who aren’t on our list of appointments.   Sometimes for appointment times that are already taken.  Sometimes for children who shouldn’t even be sent here – we can’t handle children here.  We do our best to fit people in, but we can’t always do that.  It wastes everybody’s time and makes our job miserable.   We’ve tried to tell the call centre, but we don’t have the authority.”

On the face of it, centralised booking for several different units at different hospitals should be more efficient.  A small team can handle more volume more efficiently, saving costs across all units.

But this only works if the central team are a) incentivised to produce a satisfactory outcome of the entire process;  b) have all the information they need, when they need it, to do that job properly, and c) use feedback from people further down the line to improve how it works.

Otherwise all you’ve added to the process is a silo that increases real costs for everyone involved.

There’s a more fundamental error that’s been made here.   The people delivering a service should be in control of the customer experience of that service.   Either by managing the end-to-end process themselves, or being a key player in its design and continuous improvement.

But I’m guessing that customer experience was probably the last thing on the mind of whoever came up with this, along with a genuine interest in efficiency.   Superficial gains were enough for them.

It shows.

Rescuing babies

Rescuing babies

Sometimes, all it takes to solve a new problem is to revisit an old technology, applying the best of the new technologies we’ve developed since we last used it, to make it work far better than last time.

Sail Cargo is one such solution, using ancient technologies in a 21st century way.

Another is Homespun/Homegrown – where the old textile town of Blackburn will grow and make it’s own jeans using the even more ancient technologies of flax and woad, alongside some thoroughly modern manufacturing, marketing and distribution methods.

Babies don’t have to be thrown out with bathwater.

You can fish them out first, and help them grow up gracefully.

Appropriate Technologies

Appropriate Technologies

The internet is a wonderful technology.   For instance, I’ve just bought an antique dining table with a few clicks and couple of phone calls.   Not so long ago, it would have been impossible to find it, never mind buy it so easily.

The telephone is still great technology.   In combination with the internet, it can be wonderful.  Yesterday I booked an X-ray with just one phone call.  A human being answered and booked me in.   I updated my online diary as we spoke.  Job done for both of us.

Yesterday, I also tried to book a blood test.   Same NHS trust, different department.   This time I got an automated answer offering the option of a long wait in a queue or to be sent an online form.   I chose the online form.  A link was sent to my phone.   I followed it and completed the form.   So far so good, if a little clunky.

But as soon as I’d submitted it, the form was gone.  No email, no text, not even an acknowledgement of receipt.  It’s gone into a black hole.   I don’t know when it might be reasonable to try again.  I have no record that I filled it in at all.

In other words, as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t work.

Adding the internet doesn’t automatically make for wonderful.   What’s really needed is appropriate technology.  Whatever makes the job easier for everyone.

Choosing it takes empathy.

 

Recorded messages

Recorded messages

On the whole, I prefer to interact with a human than a bot, or a recorded message.

There are times though, when the recorded message is the right response.  Yesterday afternoon, my internet went down.  I did all the usual things – turned the router off and on again, tested the connection to the wall, waited to see if it woud resolve itself.  Nope.  Still down.

I rang my provider.  There was no wait for the call to be answered – because it was a recorded message:

“We can tell your account from the number you’re calling on.  We already know there is a problem with your line.  We’re working to fix it as soon as possible.”

For once, I was glad to hear a recorded message.  Something constructive, that told me exactly what I needed to know and allowed me to get on with something else.

By doing that for me, and probably countless other customers, this message also enabled the provider to concentrate resources on fixing the problem instead of holding angry and frustrated users at bay with the “All of our operators are currently busy…”, or “We are currently experiencing high call volumes…” or “Your call is important to us…”. 

Recorded messages that signal “We don’t care about you.  We can’t be bothered to see things from your perspective.  We probably don’t have to because you have no choice.”

Until someone gives us that choice.  And we tell the others.

Family firms

Family firms

Someone from a small, long-established family firm near me was meant to come out and install a new waste pipe to my washing machine yesterday.    It didn’t happen.

Someone rang me this morning to say sorry, and re-book the appointment.

“I’m soooo sorry.   One of our engineers was taken ill, and a family emergency meant we had to shut the shop suddenly too.”

“Well, these things happen, I guessed something must have gone wrong.”

We’ve re-booked.  Hopefully this time the process will run smoothly.

The thing about family firms is that they are families, not machines.   And that’s why I chose them.

I’d rather wait an extra day or two than turn someone into an overworked cog.

 

PS Only a man who’d never done a load of washing can have designed that machine!

Customer delight?

Customer delight?

What’s more annoying than your bus arriving late?

Your bus arriving early.

There seems to be a trend at the moment for deliveries to arrive sooner than expected.    I think this comes from an assumption that over-delivering on a promise is always good (something Royal Mail cleary don’t subscribe to).   But what if I need to prepare for delivery beforehand?  Arriving early messes up my schedule, makes my life more difficult.

Early delivery might be good – if you ask me first, and give me the option of sticking to the original plan.

Otherwise, it’s probably not my delight you’re seeking, but your convenience.

Here’s your welcome treat

Here’s your welcome treat

“Here’s your welcome treat” says the email.  Inside, a code for a 10% discount on my first purchase, as a reward for signing up to the mailing list.  Lovely.

Except that I’ve already made my first (hefty) purchase, which is how I signed up to the mailing list in the first place.

Now I’ve been given a discount code I’m unlikely to use.  I don’t feel special, or welcomed, I feel cheated.

If you have more than one way for people to end up on your mailing list, make sure the reward for doing so works properly in every case.

It’s not rocket science.  Just meaning it.