Micro Organizational Behaviour

Learning by doing is widely embraced as a driver of skill development. When I taught English in Japan, my objective was often to give people the tools, words, expressions, etc., that they needed to complete the “production” exercise (e.g having learned and practiced adverbs of frequency, create a weekly routine for, say, Paris Hilton when she is in jail. “Well she always checks the cutlery before she eats, she often asks for another blanket” and so on). Entertainment is never a small part of education.

Research suggests that when you are forced to “teach” something, your retention of that material increases dramatically over simply having to “do” something. (I would argue that my depth of comprehension of English jumped dramatically during my days of teaching it.) This is where the “reflective journal” fits into many skill development regimes and curriculums. My MBA students have to keep a journal to share thoughts with me, or more specifically, show me where they are able to apply the learnings. The good ones could be used to teach others.

For example, in the course, we discuss acceptable alternatives (BATNAs, positions, et al) and the importance of thinking things through. My interactions earlier this month at Home Depot provide a good example of how this fits in the real world:

I bought a chandelier that had to be specially ordered. (”Special order” meaning, I think, items that had less than hotcake-like velocity in moving and therefor were store elsewhere. Makes sense for the big box business model.) When I got the chandelier home, one of the glass fixtures was broken. Calling suggested that the only alternative was to take it back to the store to figure out what to do. I realized that my overriding objective was to make this trip to Home Depot my last for this particular transaction. (Note: This would be trip number 3, and still no chandelier.)

As a win-win guy, I ran through some possible scenarios. Maybe I return it; maybe they give me the glass bowl from the floor model (of which there was one); maybe they have some ideas that had not occured to me. I was open to the discussion, but I also decided that I was not prepared to go back to the store again. Had I been passionately attached to the chandelier, my tune might have been quite different.

Not surprisingly, Plan A from HD Customer Service was “we’ll just order you another one; call in a week or 10 days and it should be here for you to pick up.” Sorry, three trips is my limit. A return should have involved a “restocking fee” (such are the rules for special order items), but I was impressed that this point was not pressed prior to processing my return. There was mention that they would not levy the fee, with a sigh that I suspect was intended to elicit guilt.

From a customer service perspective, I could not have been happier. I got what I wanted, which was to walk out of the store not needing to go back. The only thing that bugged me was the lost opportunity for customer services staff to not to lose the sale. Would it be possible to take an unbroken fixture off the floor model and send me on my way? I did not need to suggest it, so I didn’t. That may have been closer to a win-win, but in this situation, I am OK with win-lose as long as I am the former.

That may be lofty for the expectations of customer service staff at a big box store, but value has to come from anywhere you can get it, even if you are Home Depot. In this case, clarity of objectives on both sides, coupled with a solution-minded approach may have enabled value creation for everyone involved. That might not be too much to ask for/expect/instill in customer-facing staff in any business.

Post script: I ended up going to a local lighting store, who were able to arrange installation through an informal channel. This was the one issue I hadn’t thought through. I can only imagine my experience in “learning by doing” a chandelier installation.

Interactions between people produce perceptions of customer service, and a significant part of those interactions are questions and answers. There are classic information gap (I need A, do you have it?), but the issues can be clouded by a myriad of factors from a sense of entitlement (I am the customer here!) to mismanaged expectations (What do you mean you don’t have it in stock!) to negative experiences (for an ongoing saga, please see Rob Kozinet’s Q&A session with Costco.ca).

The extent to which you get the “benefit of the doubt” from another person can be a fluid process: less benefit of the doubt means more scrutiny and “reading into” your wording. When you have no benefit of the doubt, you have to bulletproof your wording. Recently, I was the recipient of one such question from one of the barristas at a local Starbucks.

Full disclosure: I was recently recruited to be on the Starbucks Passion Panel. I have no idea to what extent this is a distinguishing an honour.

“Do you need room for milk or cream?” was the question following my ordering coffee in my own (Starbucks) mug. The reason that this stood out for me so much is the headaches that I have been through in my quest to get a full mug of coffee (I drink it black, so I don’t need room.) I have tried to tell people that I take it black so, “Fill it up,” but they are often already away from the counter so don’t hear me. I have even, on occasion, asked for a “top-up,” explaining, of course, that it is only because I like the coffee so much, and not that I a cheap value-for-money coffee drinker… when really I am.

Long and short, that simple question equated to real customer satisfaction from me. I have no idea if it was deliberate or lucky, nor can I comment on whether such a question delivers universal customer experience value.

In contrast to the bulletproof question, here is another example. I was asked if I was “OK with stairs?” by someone who was a potential client of mine as we were about to move to a second floor meeting room. I noted and genuinely appreciated the query. To me it showed interest and empathy toward me. Upon further discussion, I learned that the individual had recently had back problems that allowed him to walk normally, but not climb stairs.

Had I been in a different frame of mind (offering less benefit of the doubt), I could have easily read into that question. Do I look that tired? Do I somehow seem ill-prepared to climb stairs? What exactly do you think is wrong with me? Verbalized or not, these are the potentially sensitive issues that we can rub up against when people find a reason to question our motives.

I recall witnessing a quickly deteriorating exchange between a friend of mine and a woman when I was a student. The question sought to identify her hereditary cultural definition. It was the wording “where are you from?” that caused the spiralling problems. That particular question is a tough one to bulletproof, so, when dealing with people where my “benefit of the doubt” is uncertain, I find myself asking about languages spoken in order to get around to this topic. Sometimes the ounce of prevention is well worth it!