The other day, I had to refuel my rental car and also stock up on mints. And pronto, I was at ‘Kwik Shop’. As soon as I entered the store, I was pounced upon by 2 card carrying red tee shirt / black trousers wearing employees, who barked at me thus: ‘hello, welcome to kwik shop’. If there ever was a time I didn’t feel remote warmth in someone’s greeting, this was it!
Flashback (color changing to black and white):
Kwik Shop’s VP of Customer Service says in his staff meeting: “Sales at our gas stations are plateauing out. We need to draw in more customers, make them feel welcomed and a part of the Kwik Shop family." (What the heck is he talking about! Kwik Shop family? Huh? I just want gas and gum!)
A cross functional team is put together to brainstorm ideas for improving customer service. The ass-kisser, the outside the box thinker and a plethora of non-descript, bored also-rans provide equally outrageous ideas in an attempt to ‘contribute’ to the discussion.
Mr. VP disses the feasible ideas from outside the box thinker as too revolutionary, the ass-kisser’s brain waves as BS and finally zones in on one of the also-ran’s post-it notes. “Yes, that’s an easy fix. Let’s stipulate that all our employees in a gas station *will* greet every customer who walks through the glass door with a cheerful ‘Hello! Welcome to Kwik Shop’. Great idea, Brian! Guys, these are the kind of ideas that are going to turn the Kwik Shop family around and keep us on the growth curve.(Here we go again….dude, we just want our paychecks. We sell gas and gum for cryin’ out loud!) There’s back slapping, rah rahs and plastic camaraderie. “Yes, sales will go up 3% this quarter.” And VP makes a mental note to confer with Brian on important discussions in future.
Disgruntled outside the box thinker fumes and punches away on his keyboard, the story makes it to Scott Adams’ inbox and Dilbert continues to hit home!
Meanwhile, directives are verbally issued, memos are drafted and sent out to Kwik Shop store managers in remote Idaho. The minimum wage workers at the local Kwik Shop who have reached the zenith of ennui, get the message from George, their young, bright (pun intended), black neophyte manager (Makes a mental note: “Yes, this is my chance to upstage my competition at this store.” Ummm, somehow he didn’t get the memo about the rest of his colleagues being ennui-ed out for life). On hearing the message, the plebs nod their heads, Miguel picks up where he left off on the floor mopping exercise, (Plis to visualize this in slow motion now, with black and white transitioning to Eastman color) and out of the corner of his eye, notices a handsome young man grasping the handle of the glass door, slowly making his way in. Then, it happens….. George pounces (figuratively, not literally, please!) on me and rattles my ear drums with “Hello! Welcome to Kwik Shop”.
PS: Hmm, and what do I do for work again?! :P
PPS: Did you know that most gas stations barely break even on the gasoline they sell? The real money they make is in the margins off of the chips/drinks/beer/candy/chocolate/gum/mints, etc. One of the guys at my client used to own a gas station and went under.
