What we can learn from pledge drives
June 24, 2010
Here’s a thought: An old sales adage goes, “Always be closing.” I think it’s wrong and here’s why.
I’ve been listening to NPR for the last 20 years. (At the same time, I subscribe to the Wall Street Journal.) And in those two sentences, I’ve probably convinced both conservatives and liberals that I’m an idiot in record time.
But I digress.
Any NPR listener (or public television watcher) knows the regular ritual called a pledge drive. Listeners loathe it and it always sounds to me like the poor staff members they corral into pleading for funds would rather be anywhere else than on air, repeating that phone number in increasingly desperate and cringe-inducing ways. (I’m looking at you, WBEZ Chicago.)
Like many people, I’ve mastered the art of turning off the station and clock-watching until I know regular service has resumed. (Before any NPR narcs report me, we’ve been consistent donors for all of the 20 years I’ve listened.) I just can’t bear to listen to it.
But then, one of their reporters did something different the other day. Instead of begging for money during his pledge drive shift, he explained his job. He told how, because we support the station, he can go to city hall to report on Chicago government (always something happening there!). He talked about how he attends trials so that he can bring us the story without all 3 million of us trying to cram into the court room. He was witty, matter of fact, and – interesting!
And curiously, I did something new. I listened. I was intrigued. I wanted to pledge more than I ever have in the past – not out of guilt or pressure, but because it made sense to me and his story engaged me.
How often do we pitch instead of engage? And how often do people around us – clients, colleagues, employees, suppliers, bosses – turn the channel and wait for us to shut up? Sure, we can’t see them physically hit the switch, but that light goes from their eyes as they wait for us to… shut up.
What would happen if, instead of pitching and closing, we informed and shared and engaged?
What if you just reduced irritants?
June 7, 2010
I had coffee with a seasoned and bright marketing executive last week. He said something that stuck out to me:
Most of the time, you can differentiate your company/product/service/brand by just figuring out what irritates customers about companies in your industry and eliminating those irritants…
Little did I know that I would have an object lesson the next day…
Some of you may be fans of big box electronics stores. If what I say from here on offends you, I apologize up front. Against my better judgement, I went with my wife to a VERY well-known big box store to shop for a camera yesterday. True, based on past experience with this particular retailer, I was primed for dissatisfaction. They lived down to my expectations.
In 15 short minutes, all of these things happened (and I’m not making any of them up):
- The person at the front door greeted us cheerily, but offered no guidance on how to find what we were looking for. When we told him that we had a camera on hold and asked where it might be, he pointed blankly and said, “Customer Service.” (Only later did I realize why he appeared chained to his post at the door.)
- Once we found the camera section, a different salesperson approached us every 60 seconds or so (again, I’m not exaggerating) offering help. My wife had a printed copy of research in her hand, but we would only just begin to refer to it before we were interrupted by another salesperson. The irony – they probably thought they were being helpful. In reality, they were getting in the way of us buying something!
- At one point, we did have a question about their return policy. We waited another 19 seconds for the next salesperson to show up (as if on cue) and asked our question. “It used to be 14 days, but now it’s 30 days,” Stoffer said. We confirmed that we could return it within 30 days for a full refund. ”Yes,” Stoffer said, “full refund. If you’re not happy, just bring it back.”
- With the camera chosen, we moved on to memory cards and batteries. Another (yes, different) salesperson approached us (one aisle away from the cameras) and offered to help. My wife asked a few simple battery questions. He looked at her blankly for a few seconds and she wondered if he had not understood the question, couldn’t read English, or had had a slight stroke right then and there. Instead, he finally pulled the staff radio earpiece out of his ear that had been distracting him from listening to the customer right in front of him and then successfully answered the question.
- Finally, we went to check out. At the register, yet a different sales associate rang up the order and confirmed the return policy: 14 days with a 15% restocking fee! Stoffer had clearly been making stuff up!
- We mentioned that our buddy Stoffer had said 30 days and 100% refund. The service manager looked appalled and immediately paged Stoffer’s boss over the earpiece radio system. (I could just imagine some customer in the Battery Departments getting a blank stare from their sales associate as the mayday call went out.) Regardless, the service desk confirmed that we were going to get the less generous policy.
- Before telling us to come back, the greeter at the door asked to see the purchases, our receipt, a picture ID, and a note from my mother. (OK, I made that last part up.)
In 15 short minutes, this big box store (that spends millions getting consumers like me to come into their store) got $400 from us and we had their true brand confirmed for us: lots of product selection, poorly trained salespeople, and a lousy shopping experience. I’ll go back to avoiding them – until I can’t.
PS Here’s the irony. The service manager could have (almost) turned this around by simply saying, “You know what, Stoffer was mistaken but we stand behind our word. I’ll personally write your terms on the back of your sales slip and if you have any trouble with a return, I want you to contact me by name.” It’s highly unlikely we will return the product anyway. But it would have made a real impression on us.
Rant over. Now, the troubling question: in what ways does my company irritate our customers? And in what way does yours? The answer leads to job 1 for next week.
A Dirty Word Trifecta – Learning from a blown call
June 4, 2010
Something interesting and unusual happened this week and I don’t want to miss the opportunity for all of us to learn from it. While I’m not a big baseball fan anymore, like many of you I saw the video highlight of Armando Galarraga’s almost-perfect game on Wednesday night. On the last out of the game, umpire Jim Joyce mistakenly called the batter safe at first when he was clearly out, costing the Tigers pitcher a place in history.
But maybe both men deserve a place in a different kind of history for demonstrating three Dirty Words (as I call uncommonly good words that we’re embarrassed to use in the marketplace) in one 36-hour period…
Most people in Galarraga’s position would have been outraged at this mistake and gone on a rampage, during, after and LONG after the game was over. Most umpires would stone-wall or make excuses about the mistake. And most relationships would be irreparably damaged as a result. Joyce and Galarraga aren’t most people. Here are the three Dirty Words in action:
- Ownership – Jim Joyce, upon seeing the replay, immediately went to Galarraga (and the Tigers team) in private to own his mistake and apologize. He went further yet. He went in public and said, “I blew it. I cost that kid a perfect game.” No shirking. No excuses. No “that’s the way it is.” Just pure ownership.
- Forgiveness – Not to be outdone, Galarraga responded by forgiving Joyce. He went as far as to shake his hand the next day, not just some sort of cold forgiveness that mouths the words but holds back the real deal.
- Grace – Even in the moment, Galarraga didn’t blow a gasket. He was surprised, even visibly disappointed. But he went right back to the mound and got the last out of the night. Later he said, “I understand, nobody’s perfect.” He gave Joyce dignity and respect even though the unwritten rules of the baseball diamond would not have demanded it. Finally, we have a positive role model to talk about from sports…
Here are the application questions for us: In which relationships do we need to take Jim Joyce’s example and own a mistake? And where can we follow Armando Galarraga’s example by practicing forgiveness and giving grace? Not only will we probably feel better, but the “game” wherever we play – our firm, school, non-profit, office – will be more productive as a result.