You know that type of customer service that you experience every once in a blue moon and never forget?
Well here's a couple of customer service pros, that I hesitate to call 'pros', for the sole reason that they're just doing what clearly comes naturally to them.
But these two are SO far beyond even the "gold standard" it's hard to know where to start in genuinely complimenting them.
Isaac At the Rosebowl Cafe
In Feilding the other day for a veterinary visit with my little dog, I'd bought him some food and realised I hadn't brought his travelling bowl. I'd just availed myself of some tasty sandwiches in my favourite stop in the town - the Rosebowl Bakery & Cafe - and, a bit gingerly, went back in to see if they'd help me out with a takeaway container to decant my little guy's food into.
What an extraordinary customer experience that otherwise simple exercise turned out to be:
Isaac, one of the younger assistants there, didn't treat the request in the largely throw-away manner you'd probably expect such a request would be treated: Like, "Sure, here you go." Or, "OK, but we charge 50 cents for our containers." That's been the standard response on the odd occasion I've been in a situation where I've made a similar request elsewhere.
No, no. Not Isaac. I was a
customer. And clearly, in his mind, a customer has very specific needs, and regardless of the size or nature of the request, a customer's needs should be properly identified and satisfied with diligence. Which is exactly what he went about doing . . . as I co-operated in a somewhat startled state, with his incredibly insightful questions.
How big is your dog? What volume of food are you going to be decanting into the container for him? If I give you this one, or this one (pointing out two options), which one will he be able to reach into better? OK, wait there, he says.
He returns with the two options. But now . . . there's more detail and diligence to come: How big is the can? If you don't decant the whole can for him for this meal, would it be better to have this takeaway container here? Because you can put the whole can itself into this one, and it also has a better lid, and that means the car won't get reeked out on your long drive home. What do you think, he asks?
Well, I hadn't thought that deeply into it, but as I drove home with half a can of uneaten dog food in a perfectly sized container with a well-fitting lid and thus a non-stinky car, you can be sure I
did
think about it at that point.
Even remarkably, I had assumed Isaac must have been a dog owner himself. No, he said, he wasn't. He was just thinking
through the situation.
And then I pulled out my wallet to pay. No, no, he said,
"we have plenty of containers out there; no need, just happy to help. Have a safe drive back."
What can I say? What an extraordinary asset to a customer-facing business of any type . . . and most especially one like a high-traffic cafe a la the very impressive Rosebowl.
And now to Claire at The Warehouse.
Claire has a smile that wouldn't just light up a room . . . it lights up her entire surrounding environment at Masterton's The Warehouse.
Whenever I've encountered her, I've thought, "Oh, there's that smiling lady again."
There's a human warmth to this equally extraordinary service staff member. And a very high degree of conversational intelligence.
Claire is the staffer for whom no request for help is a big deal or too much bother. To the contrary, Claire is the team member who won't just tell you that what you're looking for is "in Aisle No. 10". She wouldn't dream of it. She'll put down what she's doing and walk you straight there . . . and she won't leave you until she's helped you more specifically with what you want.
I went to get a pair of slippers last night. The dickety little hangy thingy they were all on had me completely constumpled trying to get my incorrect size rejects back on them and back on the hook they came off. So I did my best, failed, gave up, and left them neatly against the shelving.
Approaching a nearby staffer from behind as she stacked a shelf, I intended to draw her attention to said unhung slippers.
Swinging around with her trademark twinkling mile-wide-smile (before even seeing who she was about to stand facing, or knowing what they wanted i.e. I could have been any grump or gronk), I saw it was "the smiling lady".
Said smiling lady (who I now know as "Claire") then proceeded to thank
me profusely for "my kindness".
My kindness? Yes, she said, thank you so much!
Well I never.
And then (something to the effect of):
"Do you need any help with anything else?"
And then a brief, friendly and very intelligent chat sparked by something to do with said item, before encountering her in another part of the store, and having her offer again to help me with another item, on which she provided an insightful commentary that I much appreciated.
Think About It From An Employer's Perspective
I'm always a bit reticent to go on like I sometimes do about what some readers might consider a mundane, everyday experience.
But think of this from the perspective of an employer, many of whom I am acutely aware really have their work cut out for them, getting and ensuring genuinely good staff.
You'd imagine they'd really appreciate this commentary . . . and you'd imagine any employer suffering the either short-term or long-term pain of less-than-optimum customer-facing staff, would also read this commentary with great envy - and a sincere wish that they had customer service pros like Isaac and Claire on
their payrolls.
