LEARN FROM
THE LOW-LIFE
You have undoubtedly
noticed that the cunningly clever chiefs of New Zealand’s petrol
retailers have decided the future of their industry is best secured by
ignoring the customer
and focusing on reducing costs. After spending hours pouring over their
financial data, they have discovered that labour is a big contributor
to their overall
costs of running a business. “Could it be,” one executive
asked the learned corporate leaders huddled around their magnificent
mahogany board
table, “that if we reduced the number of employees, we could reduce
the costs of running this business thereby increasing profits?” There
was a moment of silence while those assembled mulled over his question.
“By Jove!” they chorused in unison. “We think you’ve
got it! We’ll just hire people to collect the money. The customers can
fill their own cars.”
And so another brilliant business strategy was born. There was no need to
consider if there was a downside to leaving customers to pump petrol themselves.
After all, it’s not as if petrol is a dirty, dangerous, harmful, toxic
substance, is it? I mean, if you spilled some on your clothes - not that it
could ever happen, of course - it wouldn’t stain them, would it? And
it’s not as if the customer would have to stand outside in the elements,
teeth clenched, back braced against the bitterly cold southerly that occasionally
blows through the country in winter. “Besides,” said the director
of marketing, “I’m sure one of my chaps can put a positive spin
on this.” And so no service became self-service, which our bevy of brilliant
business bosses were convinced would be hugely popular in a DIY nation like
New Zealand.
The real stroke of brilliance though, was to make sure there was no system
by which staff would be able to pass on to head office any feedback they got
from customers. That way our harried executives wouldn’t be troubled
by any information that might create doubts in their otherwise calm and serene
minds.
Like most non-systems, theirs functioned very well. “This is the only
$60 I’ll spend this week without getting any service whatsoever,” I
told the young lad behind the counter when I filled my car yesterday. He adopted
the stunned mullet look all employees are taught to use in such situations. “Can
you pass that feedback on to head office, please?” I asked. He just shook
his head.
But I’m sorry to report there’s traitorous activity afoot in the
land of petrol pumps. The other day I pulled in to a petrol station in Taupo. “I’ll
do that for you, Sir,” said a voice from behind me, as I was just about
to remove the nozzle from the pump. Gee, I’ve got to take more breaks
when driving, I told myself. These hallucinations are getting bad.
A hand reached out and took the nozzle from the machine. “Wow!” I
said to the smiling face inserting the nozzle into my car. “You must
be the only petrol station in New Zealand that still serves customers.”
The young lad laughed. “I know I’m just a low-life in the eyes
of the people who run this company,” he said, “but this is how
I see it. We don’t make any money out here. We make it in there,” he
explained pointing to the shop. “I figure that if I come out and serve
the petrol, the customer will have nothing to do so they’ll go into the
shop and look around. Maybe they’ll buy a drink or a chocolate bar or
a sandwich. If they do, we’ll make more profit on that purchase than
we will out here. Besides, our customers will have a better experience and
they’ll come back. They might even tell others about us.”
I smiled and nodded as he spoke, but inside I felt a deep sadness. Poor chap,
I thought. You clearly haven’t got what it takes to be a senior executive.
The moral of the story, of course, is that head office is a dangerous place
from which to view the world. It’s far removed from the reality of the
marketplace and if you stay there too long you’ll develop delusions of
adequacy.
Besides, I wonder what the ‘low-life’ who work for you could teach
you about running your business?
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