Your Kids Are Watching

| March 18, 2021 | Reply

My youngest daughter Cassidy, who was three or four years old when we published Appreciation Marketing®, is now fifteen and is working at her first job as a hostess at an upscale restaurant. She takes reservations over the phone and also answers and processes takeout orders. (That’s not her in the illustration).

Last night a gentleman called and place a large dinner order which included three “taco trucks,” a new menu item. When he arrived for pickup he was completely shellshocked when Cassidy told him that his bill was over one hundred dollars. Apparently this guy didn’t understand that a taco truck consisted of five different gourmet tacos and they cost $25 apiece.

“I didn’t know,” he pleaded. Cassidy calmed the man down, told him not to worry, and took two of the taco trucks off his order (they ended up going to the employees as a treat). The man was relieved, and tipped my daughter twenty percent for his order.

This was a first-time experience for my little girl, finding herself in an uncomfortable situation in which she must react quickly and professionally. There were three possible ways in which she could have handled this customer:

  1. “Im sorry, but that was what you ordered, and it’s very clear on our online menu.”
  2. “Umm, hold on, let me go get my manager.
  3. “Don’t worry. It was an honest mistake. Let me take it off your bill.”

It’s difficult to speculate on how this customer may have reacted to scenarios one or two. But here’s the remainder (not the end) of the story:

A few hours later the same man showed back up at the restaurant. He approached Cassidy and handed her a thank you note with a $50 bill. He apologized for putting her in that position, and thanked her for the kind way in which she handled it. He acknowledged that it had been his mistake and he knows how restaurants are struggling during the pandemic. He then uttered the words that every restaurant (or business) owner longs to hear; “You’re amazing. You’ve gained a customer for life. Thank you so much.”

When Cassidy handed the fifty to her manager and told the story, the manager simply took the bill and said thanks. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate the profoundness of the moment. I have to imagine that the fifteen-year-old me, would have answered the guy with scenario’s one or two. Oh, and I would have put the $50 in my pocket.

It’s a good thing my children grew up around the “new-and-improved” version of me! And I’m glad they’re paying attention.

Happiness Culture?

| June 6, 2017 | 1 Reply

OK, I did it. Not sure why. Maybe a mid-life crisis move. I bought a Jeep Wrangler.

On my way off the lot, my friend (and salesman) Ray said, “You’re going to have a lot of people waving at you.” I told him that I already do. Then he explained the “Jeep Wave.”

“That’s stupid,” I thought to myself as I drove away. “I’m not going to participate.”

In the three years I owned an Acura RLX I only ever saw ONE other one on the road. I’m not a car enthusiast. I’m not one of those people who can identify every car on the road and recognize the make, model, and year. It’s just never been important to me.

But oh boy I’m noticing the Jeeps. In fact, every time I drive I see no fewer than five or six. They’re everywhere! And they wave!

I’m a waver by nature. Generally I’m smiling and waving to police officers, joggers, dog walkers, bikers you name it. So, finally I gave in and started waving at the other Jeeps. Suddenly, I feel a responsibility to watch for them so I can get a wave in. When I’m preoccupied and I get a wave I’m not ready for, I feel guilty having not returned the gesture. I almost want to turn around, chase them down, and apologize for messing up.

Geeze, they even have an official creed:

The Jeep Wave: An honor bestowed upon those drivers with the superior intelligence, taste, class, and discomfort tolerance to own the ultimate vehicle – the Jeep.

It’s a huge responsibility to drive a Jeep. Suddenly, even a simple joy ride has become a mission to spread good will, appreciation, and gratitude. Looking for things to be grateful for . . .

What a concept.

The Social Experiment

| May 22, 2017 | 3 Replies

I drive my eleven-year-old daughter to school every morning, and she always wants to stop at Dunkin Donuts. Being a father who spoils his kids (I know, bad idea, but I’m weak) I cracked one day. Then I came up with an idea to create a learning experience and conduct what I call, “The Social Experiment.”

With my coaching, Cassidy goes into Dunkin Donuts with a big smile. She says “good morning” to the people behind the counter and, with excellent manners (eye contact, please, and thank you), orders one donut with strawberry frosting and sprinkles and hash browns (I know, bad idea, but I’m weak). It always comes to $1.86, she always hands over two dollars and puts the 14 cents into the tip jar, smiles, and says “thank you” and “have a great day!”

I went in with her every day for the first week. Then I started having her go in alone as I waited in the car.

The rules are always the same; smile, be friendly, and be polite. My daughter is still a little shy and didn’t like my advice when I told her to ask the people their names. “Just say, what’s your name?” I told her. She was mortified at the thought and could not get past that comfort zone.

Fast forward, three weeks:

This morning I went into the Dunkin Donuts with my daughter. It was wonderful seeing the room brighten up as she entered. The staff immediately put on smiles, and went to work bagging her order (without her having to even place it) before she was halfway in. “Good morning Cassidy!” came from a woman behind the counter. “Good morning, Chris!” answered my girl. Suddenly, a few more faces popped up smiling, “Good morning Cassidy!” In turn, she answered, “Good morning Muhammad, good morning Jake.” Turns out, Chris owns the place.

“Your daughter is so cute,” Chris says to me. “We all look forward to seeing her every day.”

“Thank you, I think she’s pretty terrific too,” I replied.

My hope (and expectation) is that Cassidy will translate this lesson – this aura – into everything that she encounters, every business that she enters, every teacher she interacts with, every friendship that she builds. I like my odds.

Imagine what your personal and professional life would look like if people looked forward to seeing you every day. There’s a distinct and overwhelming advantage in life when you can light up a room every time you enter. And yes, its a talent that can be learned.

It ALWAYS starts with you.

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