What we are talking about here is nothing less than an entirely new way of looking at business. It’s a way that reverses the traditional hierarchy of actions, issues, and goals and replaces them with a vastly superior order of strategies and tactics that ignite a positive chain reaction with the combustion, the torque, the horsepower, and naked appeal capable of wildly surpassing the norm.
The standard Business 101 textbook order of priorities for building or fortifying a business is to:
All of these are important, even indispensible steps. But the most vital initiative, the Monster Differentiator, is missing. And that oversight is a recipe for failure, third-rate status, or worse. To wit, you must begin the formation or turnaround of your business with a challenging but critical question: How are we going to thrill customers or clients by offering a truly unique experience?
If this question is omitted at the start, if the answer is knee-jerk or superficial, the company is doomed to mediocrity and suffers a high risk of underperformance—or worse.
Thinking about the thrill at the outset is imperative because of a simple but damaging facet of human behavior: we all say (in what has become a tired and shopworn cliché) that we want to think “outside the box,” but we make that pledge with both feet firmly planted inside it, the cover taped tightly over our heads. Once we enter the confines of a constricted (and therefore limited) space, we have to seek to break down the walls in search of fresh air. Once we recognize that the box is always filled with clichés, yesterday’s news, stale thinking that’s made the voyage from been there/done that and back, we are forewarned to develop ideas that are provocative, dangerous, refreshing, edgy, even impossible—and then work our way back to reality. Starting off with blah means we are usually doomed to stay there—but by launching our thinking, our route to thrilled, with wild-eyed impossibilities strewn across our path—well, that’s how we get to thrilled.
This first highly imaginative, no-holes-barred leapfrog toward thrilling customers ensures (and there are few other absolutes in business) that those customers will:
Remember Marilyn!
Let’s explore number six in greater detail. For starters, does your company have a Chief Customer Officer? If not, why not?
Imagine giving the customer a voice. Is that too revolutionary for you? At the vast majority of companies, that appears to be the case. Although virtually every major business has a CEO, CIO, COO, CFO, CTO, CMO, the CCO (the voice of the customer) is nowhere to be found.
For companies that live by the rule of the thrill, the Chief Customer Officer/CCO should be at the top of the corporate hierarchy, reporting to the CEO, but with dotted line responsibility to the Board as well. Why? Because just as the CFO must have a fiduciary responsibility to the shareholders, so, too, should the CCO be empowered to identify and protect the customers’ interests. And what a difference it makes when the business—ask Southwest Air—puts the customer truly on center stage.
Why do so many companies suck? Because very few companies really think about the customer at the outset or lose their enthusiasm for doing so somewhere along the line. As a result, they never get off the ground in a meaningful way or they endure a slump in the course of their lifecycle. If there was a CCO who really understood the customers’ needs:
Last year, I was walking through the lobby of the Hotel Bristol in Paris, bags in hand, scouting out a seat in the lounge bar. A thoughtful member of the staff approached me, suggesting that a Bristol guest should not be carrying bags. Although I thanked him and assured him that the luggage was light and all was fine, he insisted on checking the items so that I could focus on a chilled glass of champagne.
He would not take no for an answer. And with the seat on the suede sofa beckoning, I happily conceded. My bags were whisked away, I slipped into Parisian happy hour, and it was all as close to perfect as you can get. Think about it:
The staff member who went out of his way to take my bags deserved recognitfion from the boss, so I brought that suggestion to the front desk. That was when I learned the staff member was the boss—the Bristol’s general manager. He is what I call The Human Ignition Switch—the leader who, through action more than words, provides a standard for the team to emulate.
What he did is a sure sign of a true leader, one who inspires every employee to raise the bar. To go beyond. To create the kind of goodwill and loyalty you can’t win with gimmicks, offers, sales, or loyalty points. That’s reserved for the thrill.
The single word customers of any business hate most is no.
It’s positively deafening.
Think of the “we can’t make an exception for you” no because it crystallizes the issue. It freeze-frames it, makes us look in the mirror and understand why our companies are falling short of our aspirations for them.
The willingness to make exceptions is precisely what thrills the patrons and prospects of every great business and infuriates those who patronize companies that muddle through (though usually not for long, because they depart for the competition), hold to rules that please themselves, and often take pride in chanting no, no, no.
One of the great secrets of companies that thrill is that management eliminates, eradicates, decimates the roadblock, the turnoff word no from their business lexicon. Everyone in the company is taught to find a way, to be creative, to problem solve, in order to turn a potential no into a yes. And that yes often translates into making an exception for the most important people in the world.
Every year, I stay at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills. In my opinion, it is the best hotel in the United States. Yes, it is beautiful, the food is amazing, and the rooftop pool is a wondrous oasis. But what truly makes the Peninsula extraordinary is that they just don’t say no. Ever. Under any circumstances.
The hotel has a wonderful policy that if you go out to dine within the confines of Beverly Hills, a hotel car will whisk you off to dinner and fetch you when you are ready to return. Note the fine print of the offer: to enjoy the luxury of the hotel car, you need to dine within Beverly Hills proper. But every time I have asked if management would make an exception and provide the car service outside of the city limits, because the restaurant of my choice that evening was further out in Brentwood or Los Angeles proper, the answer has always been unequivocal: “Absolutely, Mr. Stevens. What time would you like the car, and what time will we be escorting you back?”
Once again, turning no into yes does not have to play out on a grand stage, with private cars and five-star hotels. Although it is counterintuitive, the smaller the gesture is, the greater the impact it can have.
Recently, a clothing store opened up in the general vicinity of my home. I live in a semi-rural, historic town, one (albeit an hour away from Manhattan) with meager choices for high-end apparel. So when I ventured over for my first visit, well, let’s just say I wasn’t expecting to be blown away. No Bergdorf Men’s anywhere near quaint old Bedford Village, where you can buy a nice English saddle but where there is nary a suit to be found.
But (surprise, surprise) I could tell from the store window, this shop had genuine promise. I was greeted warmly; the clothing was eclectic and universally interesting. The piece de resistance was about to reveal itself. As I was browsing through shelves of cashmere and silk sweaters, I was holding them up for a good look and then seeking to refold them, one at a time, to return them to their proper place.
A saleswoman, who I later discovered was the owner, would have none of that.
“No folding,” she declared. “Make a mess. We love messes. Have fun. Try on everything that catches your eye. Leave the rest to us.”
“No folding,” she declared. “Make a mess. We love messes. Have fun. Try on everything that catches your eye. Leave the rest to us.”
And then she sealed the deal (making me a customer and a raving advocate). “If you don’t have fun here,” she said, “I’m in the wrong business.”
We all know way too well what it feels like to have a salesperson tidy up behind us. I think of it as silent scolding: “No. No. No. Please don’t abuse our precious merchandise.”
This boutique said, “Yes, yes, yes,” and ever since I have returned over and over again.
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