I was strolling downtown on 9th Avenue in New York yesterday, catching up on all the change since I last made this great little island my home. I noticed how much things have changed; the stores are trendy and everyone on the street is staring at their phone! Despite all the gentrification in the Meat Packing District, I was delighted to see an old store sign from my youth. Wandering into the Italian deli where my best High School buddy and I would go to 'pack on some pasta' after a busy day at the stores, I was disappointed. This was not the 'deli with Formica tables' I remembered, but an upscale sandwich shop. There was no 'old world' vibe. I couldn't smell the garlic, or even a hint of that marinara my pal Meri had loved.
After being stared down by the counter staff (no one asked if they could help or said 'Hello'), I opted to forego any purchase. My trip down memory lane had been thwarted. Imagine my delight then, when I saw the deli I remembered right next door. I pulled the door ajar and was greeted by the lovely aroma of olive oil, garlic and parmesan; exactly as I remembered. Like the store of the same name next door, there was not a customer in sight, but, I reasoned, it was three in the afternoon; too early for dinner and too late for lunch. I approached the counter in anticipation; would they have fresh mozzarella for me to take home? Was the eggplant parmesan as wonderful as I remembered?
The lady behind the counter looked up, and I said “Oh, I hope you’re not closing this side. The other side is so fancy now!”
I am still stunned by the storm this unleashed! “Get out of here. How dare you insult me like that? I know exactly what you are up to, the whole lot of you! Get out of here. You think you are cute, eh?” As she made her way around the counter toward me, screaming and holding a large ...ladle? ...knife? I explained that I meant no insult; that I was just trying to buy some mozzarella; that she had mis-understood as I was complimenting her store. It was no use, though, she was livid and loud and a bit threatening so I just kept backing away until I reached the street.
After calls to a few friends, I learned that the two stores are competing, under the same name; the legacy of a falling-out between two brothers. They don’t talk, they do fight for business and, I am told, they do send people to taunt each other with some regularity. It’s likely I was mistaken for an emissary of the enemy!
I feel bad about what happened; my reminiscence was thwarted and there’s a good chance the lack of customers in either establishment reflected their surly vibe rather than the time of day! The remainder of my journey offered a chance to think about ‘anticipation’. Clearly, the lady in the store anticipated a jibe and therefore failed to listen; she not only misinterpreted my words but she ignored all the other signals (body language, big smile). She chased off a customer (to be honest, she was pretty threatening) because she was over-prepared. On reflection, she wasn’t the only ‘over-prepared’ salesperson I’d encountered:
• The car salesman entirely ignored my requirements description, asking me to tell him what model I currently drive. He then suggested a high-end car with sports traction even though I’d said I was looking for a basic commuter car that would be good for potholes and city parking.
• The bartender at the restaurant failed to offer me a food menu and instead handed me a cocktail list at noon, even though he’d seen the hostess seat me at the bar apologizing as they had no tables available for me to dine at solo.
We are told to anticipate customer needs; to forecast the customer’s requirements, plan for and produce against them. What happens, however, when ‘anticipation’ becomes formulaic and we forget to watch for clues? I called the car salesman and asked him about our meeting. I wanted to know why he’d asked me about the car I drive instead of responding to the requirements I listed. What he told me may not surprise, but it is a cautionary tale. He told me that he’d learned that most customers don’t actually want, and even less frequently buy, the car they describe. He said he’d seen statistics in his training, and had been shown that leading a prospect to a car that was very much like or very different from their current vehicle was the most effective way to sell a car. Does he listen to what his customers tell him? “Honestly, not when they first come in. I spend most of that time sizing them up based on their clothes and the way they talk. The only thing I really pay attention to is who they say will drive the car. Then I ask what they drive and whether they like it, and I go from there.”
Of course, the other thing I noted on my walk was the huge number of people about to trip as they focused on their phone screens. Today’s smart phones have almost eliminated the need to call anyone; you can text a meeting place, send a photo, even ‘group vote’ on which restaurant is most convenient for dinner. Listening is fast becoming an antiquated skill. The car salesman is fairly successful skipping over listening, though he does note there are several ‘unspoken clues’ he garners from his customers. The lady at the deli is clearly neither listening nor watching for clues; her anticipation is clearly driving customers away.
Is there a future for listening to anticipate customer needs? Hope so. Maybe they’ll create ‘an app for that’.
After being stared down by the counter staff (no one asked if they could help or said 'Hello'), I opted to forego any purchase. My trip down memory lane had been thwarted. Imagine my delight then, when I saw the deli I remembered right next door. I pulled the door ajar and was greeted by the lovely aroma of olive oil, garlic and parmesan; exactly as I remembered. Like the store of the same name next door, there was not a customer in sight, but, I reasoned, it was three in the afternoon; too early for dinner and too late for lunch. I approached the counter in anticipation; would they have fresh mozzarella for me to take home? Was the eggplant parmesan as wonderful as I remembered?
The lady behind the counter looked up, and I said “Oh, I hope you’re not closing this side. The other side is so fancy now!”
I am still stunned by the storm this unleashed! “Get out of here. How dare you insult me like that? I know exactly what you are up to, the whole lot of you! Get out of here. You think you are cute, eh?” As she made her way around the counter toward me, screaming and holding a large ...ladle? ...knife? I explained that I meant no insult; that I was just trying to buy some mozzarella; that she had mis-understood as I was complimenting her store. It was no use, though, she was livid and loud and a bit threatening so I just kept backing away until I reached the street.
After calls to a few friends, I learned that the two stores are competing, under the same name; the legacy of a falling-out between two brothers. They don’t talk, they do fight for business and, I am told, they do send people to taunt each other with some regularity. It’s likely I was mistaken for an emissary of the enemy!
I feel bad about what happened; my reminiscence was thwarted and there’s a good chance the lack of customers in either establishment reflected their surly vibe rather than the time of day! The remainder of my journey offered a chance to think about ‘anticipation’. Clearly, the lady in the store anticipated a jibe and therefore failed to listen; she not only misinterpreted my words but she ignored all the other signals (body language, big smile). She chased off a customer (to be honest, she was pretty threatening) because she was over-prepared. On reflection, she wasn’t the only ‘over-prepared’ salesperson I’d encountered:
• The car salesman entirely ignored my requirements description, asking me to tell him what model I currently drive. He then suggested a high-end car with sports traction even though I’d said I was looking for a basic commuter car that would be good for potholes and city parking.
• The bartender at the restaurant failed to offer me a food menu and instead handed me a cocktail list at noon, even though he’d seen the hostess seat me at the bar apologizing as they had no tables available for me to dine at solo.
We are told to anticipate customer needs; to forecast the customer’s requirements, plan for and produce against them. What happens, however, when ‘anticipation’ becomes formulaic and we forget to watch for clues? I called the car salesman and asked him about our meeting. I wanted to know why he’d asked me about the car I drive instead of responding to the requirements I listed. What he told me may not surprise, but it is a cautionary tale. He told me that he’d learned that most customers don’t actually want, and even less frequently buy, the car they describe. He said he’d seen statistics in his training, and had been shown that leading a prospect to a car that was very much like or very different from their current vehicle was the most effective way to sell a car. Does he listen to what his customers tell him? “Honestly, not when they first come in. I spend most of that time sizing them up based on their clothes and the way they talk. The only thing I really pay attention to is who they say will drive the car. Then I ask what they drive and whether they like it, and I go from there.”
Of course, the other thing I noted on my walk was the huge number of people about to trip as they focused on their phone screens. Today’s smart phones have almost eliminated the need to call anyone; you can text a meeting place, send a photo, even ‘group vote’ on which restaurant is most convenient for dinner. Listening is fast becoming an antiquated skill. The car salesman is fairly successful skipping over listening, though he does note there are several ‘unspoken clues’ he garners from his customers. The lady at the deli is clearly neither listening nor watching for clues; her anticipation is clearly driving customers away.
Is there a future for listening to anticipate customer needs? Hope so. Maybe they’ll create ‘an app for that’.
