Here’s my latest story of someone ruining The Experience™:
We decided to go to the suburbs this week to browse some book stores. Shopping in the city during the pandemic has been a nightmare, mainly because the stores aren’t designed for people to space themselves out comfortably.
So, we were pleasantly surprised that the shopping experience in the ‘burbs was much more enjoyable. The stores were more spacious, everyone was keeping to themselves, and we were actually able to find what we were looking for.
Everything was going so smoothly that we started store-hopping. We went from a used book store to a craft store to a hardware store and finally to a well-known book store. (I don’t want name them here so we’ll call them Barnes & Noble.)
99% of The Experience™ at Barnes & Noble was good. There was plenty of space to browse, we weren’t constantly getting bumped into by other customers, and their inventory was on point. I was even able to find several books I’d been looking for. But then, I headed to the register to check out and everything went off the rails.
“Hello! How are you today?” I said, as I stepped to the counter smiling beneath my mask.
The clerk responded politely, scanned my books, then turned to look at me.
“Do you have a Barnes & Noble account?” he asked.
I explained that I did not but thanked him for asking. But he pressed further…
“Well, if you signed up today you would actually make money. It’s only $25 but you’d save $27, so even if you never used it again it will have been worth it.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I said calmly, hoping that was the end of it.
“All I need is your phone number and name and that’s it!” he said. He stood there frozen, as if he couldn’t proceed until I gave him my personal information.
“I think I’m okay,” I repeated.
“I wish I could turn down free money! That must be nice,” he said rudely.
I’d had enough. “Nothing’s free!” I said. “Last time I had an account it was impossible to cancel and you guys wouldn’t stop e-mailing me.”
He muttered to himself, dropped the receipt in the bag, and slid it to me without saying a word.
“Thanks so much,” I said, resorting to my well-practiced midwestern faux-kindness. “Have a great rest of your day.”
I left Barnes & Noble in a foul mood. Everything up to that point had been wonderful. In fact, our entire trip to the suburbs was fantastic. But then, in a few short minutes, The Experience™ had been clouded by my conversation at check out. What a bummer.
But, what can learn from this? At least two things…
First off, the cashier had tried to say that giving my phone number was no big deal. But that’s not true. Giving away your phone number is yet another invasion of privacy and a way for corporations to know more about you. I have a lot of friends who always say, “Who cares? They already have all the information about you!” To which I say, “That doesn’t make it right. And that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand over my information willingly.” I’m willing to pay two dollars more to make it as hard on them as possible.
And second, my experience — The Experience™ — should matter more to a company than my personal information or meeting a quota for member sign-ups. If you give me the best experience possible — from the moment I arrive at your establishment to the moment I leave — I’ll be your customer for life. No fucking phone number required.
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Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.
