I had dinner Saturday night at the restaurant in my neighborhood where I eat most. From the first time I visited, I decided I wanted to "be a regular," and early on we went frequently, schmoozed extensively, and tipped well to get the staff to remember us.

Saturday was a good example of the success of our efforts. The restaurant was full, but the owner put us on his waiting list without asking my name--although I gave it to him anyway--then took us as quickly as he could. He sat us in the front section, with his best waiter, who gave us a hearty greeting and cracked jokes the entire time. Each of them came by several times to check on us and chit-chat.

At the end of the meal, I asked our waiter his name, which prompted him to ask us our names. When we left, he thanked us by name. The owner saw us leaving, came over to me, shook my hand, and apologized to me by name for the wait.

The food, as always, was delicious. But our experience there makes us more and more likely to return (although the vermicelli ala vongole doesn't hurt).

At some restaurants, only the hard-core regulars get this kind of treatment. At our spot, though, this is generally how we've always been treated. Our fun waiter is fun with everyone; should you order the cheese platter, the owner sits down at your table and personally explains the selection.

This restaurant has figured it out: customer service is king. The minimal decor and packed-in seating become afterthoughts when good food is served by a welcoming staff. It's such a simple answer to a basic business question--how to get customers to come back.

Why, then, is it so hard to execute? Last weekend we ate at a highly regarded new restaurant in our neighborhood where the waiter did not speak to us from the moment we ordered until I hunted him down to ask for the check. A few weeks before that, another restaurant's owner berated me on the phone when I said I was running 10 minutes late for my reservation. At that restaurant, our waitress actually disproved of our wine selection and told us it "wasn't very good." (Compare this to Spiga, around the corner from my regular spot, which let me order dinner twice just because I was an idiot.)

Which led to Saturday, when, in considering our dinner options, we barely thought twice before going back to our spot, which had a wait for a table all night. It's easy to understand why.

Labels: customer service, user experience

I have never been a coupon clipper but I am an above average fan of oatmeal. When a new internet coupon for Jamba Juice oatmeal came my way, I decided to give it a shot.

This morning I went to Jamba Juice and saw that the person in front of me had ordered using the coupon. Good, I thought, it's a valid coupon. After I made my order but before paying, the supervisor told the cashier (and indirectly me) that they were not serving any more oatmeal.

It was only 30 seconds in all, but it's why I won't be coming back. My experience highlights two business ideas that can never be underestimated: when launching a major product, be ready for the demand; and embrace the need to communicate with customers.

With a new product line it's best to market-test to see that there is enough of a market for the expansion. Surprises about demand should be worked out in a reasonably run market test. No one wants to turn away an eager customer, but if you under estimate demand, there is no other option.

That's the case if the reason I was declined is a lack of supply, but that's the thing--I don't know. I was just turned away after ordering.

Maybe Jamba Juice's team would have given me an answer if I would have asked, but at that point I lost interest in buying anything. At the very least, tell me directly that you are not serving. Even better, give me another option. Something.

Every company needs to communicate with its customers. It's not that important why a customer can't have the special offer, but it's very important that representatives are willing to share that information, and not just leave people like me disappointed.

Labels: communicating, customer service, oatmeal

As a user-centric strategist, I'm always on the lookout for business practices that improve on a standard experience. So I took note the last time I went to Uncle Moe's, a Mexican restaurant near the Ai office.

Uncle Moe's has a typical sandwich-shop production line, like Subway for Tex-Mex food. I ordered my sandwich and answered the requisite questions down the line: guacamole, please; no sour cream, etc. My sandwich passed from the welcome guy to the component guy to the cashier, who announced, "Seven thirty-two."

All normal--except none of the employees said anything to each other. No calling down the burrito's name, no questioning from the cashier to the team. My meal was wrapped in foil without any notes attached to it.

Confused, I asked the cashier how the heck he knew what I had ordered. He smiled and showed me this card.

Uncle Moe's has a code and a visual for each of its sandwiches. The greeter uses a China Pencil to mark each order that comes in, and the card moves down the production line with the sandwich. The cashier can ring up an order at a glance. The card is then erased and used again.

This system is subtle and ingenious. Uncle Moe's is small, and the card reduces unnecessary noise. With a rapid-fire production system, the card ensures orders are filled and charged properly. And the dry-erase card eliminates the need for paper, reducing waste.

UX folks in Manhattan would enjoy checking out Uncle Moe's. I recommend the Watsonville, hold the sour cream.

Labels: innovation, process, ux

I keep staring and staring at the quote below, which is deep inside an article on New York City's new calorie law. Chain restaurants now have to post caloric information on their menus, giving consumers new--and abrupt--information on what they're eating.

A Starbucks barista revealed his customers' habits thusly:

Some people actually tell us we should take off the labels, because it discourages them from ordering what they want. But I think honesty is the best policy.

Can I say that again? Some people actually tell us we should take off the labels, because it discourages them from ordering what they want.

Think of the logic that goes into such a request. People are more comfortable ordering unhealthy foods when they can deceive themselves into forgetting the drawbacks. I really want that piece of pie. I know it's probably not good for me, but heck, I deserve it, so--d'oh!--what do they mean it's got 900 calories? I can't order it now! If only I didn't know how bad it was for me, I'd have been fine!...

Does the average consumer think that pie is healthier when he doesn't know the calorie count? Probably not. But at least he can pretend that it's something less than it is. Posting calories not only bares the ugly truth, it removes the sheen from the guilty pleasure, turning it into pure guilt.

One more time: Some people actually tell us we should take off the labels, because it discourages them from ordering what they want.

One could argue that New York City has overstepped its bounds in forcing these posts, much as it insisted on banning trans fats in city kitchens last year. Yet this is a terrific example of the benefits of representative government: sometimes, what the typical person says is desired is not necessarily the right answer.

This theory holds true in many areas. Seat belts, for example. Raising taxes to pay for schools. Homeless shelters. The electoral college (not that it saved us the last few times around, but I digress). It especially holds true here: the city has found a way to subtly improve public awareness and, over the longer term, general health. And it has done so with a law that runs against personal preference.

This philosophy applies to user experience design as well. Here, too, the effect can be subtle. But consider the difference between giving the user what he wants and giving the experience that best suits his needs. The effect can be extraordinary.

Labels: food, nyc, usability

Some user experience examples I've seen lately, all while eating and drinking:

Good: JambaJuice's queueing system. Unlike Starbucks, where one has to remember what the heck one ordered, then scan the baristas as they call out your drink (me: "tall caramel frappuccino light no whip"), if Jamba Juice has a wait, the cashier asks the buyer for a name. That name gets put into the order system, so the Jamba Juice drink preparers look at the screen, and say, "David?" Only after they've identified me do they check that they've made the right drink.

Bad: These pizza boxes with ads on them. Good for the advertiser, and fairly innocuous on the consumer end, but a terrible thing for the pizza parlor.

I got lunch from a place that handed me one of these boxes today. I then brought it to a conference call, where my coworker so loved the look and smell of my lunch that she got a slice for herself. But did she go to my pizza joint? No, because when closed, my pizza was from Blockbuster By Mail Get Discounts On In-Store DVD Rentals. A good marketing opportunity wasted.

Good: The widespread adoption of CRM systems at local restaurants. Thanks, no doubt, to the success of sites like OpenTable and SeamlessWeb, the majority of restaurants in Manhattan keep computer systems that maintain lists of phone numbers with addresses attached to them. Now, when I order a meal from a usual spot, I don't have to reiterate cross streets or apartment numbers; my phone number is all they need to identify me.

Bad: Styrofoam plates and cups are still routine with many of my deliveries. We need more green delivery.

Good: The just-right chewiness of Ricola Breath Mints.

Bad: Those breath mints' side effects.

Labels: food, user experience, ux

Labels: business