SERVES YOU RIGHT

I heard a story recently about some people eating in a restaurant in Helsinki. The food when it arrived was not what they’d ordered. They pointed this out to the waitress who said :-  “I know”. Thinking perhaps that she hadn’t understood them they said again :- “this…is…not…what…we…ordered”. “I know” she said “I made a mistake. Eat it please”.

It sounds like Saga in the Bridge. An unforgettable putting-you-in-your-place tactic.

Last Sunday we had our own “I’m so cross I couldn’t eat it now if it was free and served by Beyoncé” experience. We went to this idyllic country gastropub for lunch. The sun had brought out unusual crowds but there was no reason to believe they couldn’t cope (oh yes there was – the addition of the six letters GASTRO doesn’t change the fact it’s a traditional British Pub…old Britain…they don’t do service). Anyway (what do mean anyway…you didn’t stay did you?) – yes – well anyway we’d booked for 2.30 and we ordered and actually I ordered smoked salmon and they did say it might take up to 40 minutes which seemed a bit long (they were lying weren’t they?) Yes. We were still waiting after 1 ½ hours. And we walked out with them begging us to stay as we were next. (So you won’t be going back will you?)  No we won’t.

Spot what’s missing here

Customer service is always top of my list.

In London, in particular, standards have improved dramatically. Today we expect smiling, attentive, the customer-is-our-first-concern-and they -are-always-right attitude. We do not want or expect fawning servility. We want New Britain. The Ivy not the Café Royal. BAA not British Rail. New not old. And if you love your customers, really love them, it’s not that hard.

It was what I most enjoyed about advertising – cooking up great creative work – serving it to needy clients and watching it do their business good. They even paid us for having this much fun.

Which brings me to two RIPs for old Britain.

To the always infuriating and yet curiously entertaining Bob Crow. Like an old Music Hall comedian he strutted the ticket halls of London Underground defending the indefensible.

And to the Co-op. I love my local Co-op. Great staff. Good product but underlying it all a perverse Royal Mail-ness. Horror after horror has unfolded as it’s become clear the organisational terrorists within who leak and brief against management – Al and Frieda rather than Al-Quaeda – want to revert to the old Co-op.

Sadly I fear this is a vote for suicide. Whilst Mr Sutherland was well paid for sure (too well? – well, there’s an important cultural debate here) no one would dispute he’s been trying to pull off a massive rescue and turnaround, probably in so doing shortening his own life. In effectively ousting him his uncooperative colleagues will, as I said at the outset, sadly be served right.

New Co-op HQ – old Co-op attitudes

www.colourfulthinkers.com

LET'S GO FOR LUNCH

I love restaurants. Yes, I’m greedy and yes, I love food. But there’s more to a restaurant than that. There’s the buzz and excitement of a whole cocktail of emotions.

The Wolesley at lunch

Recently we went to the Wolseley (the blonde and I). It was Sunday lunch on a sunny day after walking from Marylebone. The streets were quiet. The luxury palaces on Bond Street looked forlornly on the empty-walleted passers-by…”send me some Arabs, send me rich Chinese, send me some high net wealth” they seemed to murmur.

The Wolseley is heaving at 1pm. It’s full of laughter, the buzz of stories being told, ladies lunching vigorously, couples flirting lavishly and a human conveyor belt of smiling Wolseley staff. This is brilliant.

The Wolseley smoked haddock fishcakes with poached eggs

To learn just how brilliant read this by Jonathan Self (Will’s brother). It describes a day in the life of the Wolseley from behind the scenes.

It’s a metaphor for the best of modern business. Great customer service, easy-going, happy staff, good product, reasonable prices and a sensational ambience….a total, satisfying experience or as my consultant friends (question “friends”) might put it: “with all the right touch-points in the customer journey”.

Few restaurants really have it. The Ivy;  Langans and of course Odins in Devonshire Street.
I went there recently as the guest of a friend. I used to go there a lot – and I mean a lot. Over a ten year period I spent a huge sum there but I loved it. The place is carpeted, the tables are far apart, the staff are quietly attentive. You can hear yourself think and there are bits of interesting art there.

Old Odin’s menu cover

I was greeted by someone I recognised as a junior in the past and who was now maître d’: “Mr Hall how lovely to see you again.” After 10 years this was impressive. As I sat down he asked “would you like a Kir – just like you did in the old days?” That’s what I call memory.

And memory is what distinguishes great service from good service. Technology alone won’t take you to the higher plane. Whilst the thought of robot waiters fill me with dread.

Robot waiters in China

Good to hear the front of house and people on the phone at the Wolseley don’t learn scripts but learn how to extemporise and ad lib charm.

But I love being remembered….it makes the food taste even better.

www.colourfulthinkers.com