Our editor always says to not announce what you are going to write about next time. She’s right. I know I promised in my “Smile, Darn Ya Smile” article to discuss verbal and non-verbal customer skills this week. But I had an experience, and I need to talk about it—because I think it’s so important to customer service. In the next month ahead I’ll come back to the original topics I promised.
I had the opportunity to spend a few hours with my daughter the other day at Epcot. While the process of parking and getting to the front gate is not without effort in any park, it can be especially painful at Epcot during certain times of the day when they choose to operate only one courtesy tram. As I pull in I noticed one of the trams boarding guests. Cast members direct us to our parking space, and as luck would have it, I am positioned toward the end of the row. But along with others I willingly comply. We then get out and proceed to walk back towards the first of the row to meet the courtesy tram, but it has already left. We then look up toward Spaceship Earth and could see no other trams. Along with a few others strewn along the road we proceed to walk towards the front. We are nearly there when the one tram starts to head back out into the parking lot.
It’s mid-day and it is sunny, hot, humid. Seeing a drinking fountain located underneath the monorail landing, my 9-year-old daughter runs past others exiting through unmarked security gates and heads over to quench her thirst. Following her I quickly surmise the situation. Now, I’m an annual pass holder and a former cast member. But while the security entrance is a fairly new design, and while there are no signs saying “exit” or “do not enter,” I know that we have just gone through the exit, rather than the formal queue that emerges off of the tram exit. But there were hardly any guests. In fact there is no queue for those waiting to go through security. Moreover, we have no bags to be checked. Still, I know that they have outlined a process, and were wanting everyone to follow it. Should I go back out and around, or given that there really isn’t anyone around and that there are no queues and I have no bags, is it reasonable to proceed?
Before I could go much further in my thinking, I am accosted by a security officer. The word “accosted” is appropriate here. The dictionary defines it as “approaching or stopping somebody in order to speak, especially in an aggressive, insistent, or suggestive way.”
“Did you enter through those gates sir?”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?
“I said did you come through those gates?”
“Yes I did.”
Becoming very directive he points emphatically towards the exit: “Sir, please exit that way, and go around like all of the other guests.”
It’s almost surreal. I again survey the situation. I am a few feet past the security counter. There are three or four guards positioned. And there are a handful of people in the entire area who are entering or in the process of checking their bag. But largely it’s empty—almost completely deserted. I’m at a lost as to why he wants me to walk 50 yards around to enter when there is no one waiting in line to go through security.
It’s almost like the moment from the movie Meet the Parents when Ben Stiller’s character is waiting to board. He seeks to get on the plane, but is told that they aren’t boarding his row. He looks around. There is no one else boarding. They announce rows 9-30, but he’s on row 8. He tries to reason that there’s only one row’s difference, but is kindly informed to stand aside. Finally, the row is called and he is allowed to board—alone.
Returning to Epcot, I’m dumbfounded by the tenor of the security guard’s remarks. Frustrated, I carefully reply: “And what purpose would that serve?”
“Sir, we expect you to go through the same entrance everyone else is expected to go through.”
Now I’m both incredulous and defensive. Why is he making such a huge matter around this, when we have no bags and there are no others trying to enter? In defensive disbelief I counter: “And that would make you happy?”
“That would make me happy.”
“I stand there dumbfounded. I then exit with my daughter and walk around to the exit of the tram. We re-emerge and enter via the “no bag” entrance. Still, no one is really around. The security cast member stationed at the “no bag” entrance apparently saw what was going on. He acknowledges my concern even before I have a chance to say anything and offers an apology. He can tell I’m frustrated and upset. I wanted to explain how ludicrous his approach was. I wanted to ask why he didn’t just gently invite me to the appropriate entrance next time and move me on. I wanted to share how frustrating it is that only one courtesy tram is operating. Instead I move on.
I then enter the ritual that then follows of putting my ticket repeatedly through the reader, bending the card slightly, and wiping it on my shirt for the umpteenth time. It’s surprising that I didn’t march directly to Guest Relations at this point. But this was about taking time for my daughter, and she wanted to go on Spaceship Earth. And by the time we get off of the attraction, she’s hungry. We proceed to The Electric Umbrella.
Now, I consider myself a fairly honest citizen of the community—to the extent that I never take advantage of a children’s meal unless it is for one of my child. But now standing in line, I am hot, tired, and frustrated. I don’t care for the menu at the Electric Umbrella, but my daughter would walk no farther in searching out better choices. I decide that if they were going to treat me the way they did arriving at the park, I certainly feel justified in getting a children’s meal for myself, which would offer options I would rather consume, portions more appropriate to my health, and all at a reasonable price.
I feel proud of myself as I sat down to consume that meal, even though I know it had raised half an eyebrow with the cashier, and that I was being somewhat watched by a custodial cast member as I picked grapes from my little Mickey Mouse shaped tray. I knew they wouldn’t do anything about it, and besides, I just spent less than $10 on a meal for two, something I hadn’t done since Communicore left the building. Take that, parking and security!
But then the Jiminy Cricket within me started to assess what had just played out. I had played out perhaps the most common service challenge that exists. Where other organizations talk about smiling in front of your customers, and others talk about being there for customers when they lose their luggage, some of the biggest challenges customer service providers experience center around asking customers to comply with some policy or procedure.
Think about your typical day at Disney. It’s full of experiences where you may be the customer, but Disney wants you to comply with certain expectations. At any time, they are wanting you as a guest to:
- Not litter
- Clean up after yourself
- Utilize your Fastpass during the time allotted
- Stand behind the yellow line until the doors open
- Park your stroller in designated areas.
- Restack your tray
- Not take unfair advantage of allowances made to guests needing mobile assistance
- Not cut in line or in front of others
- Respect the experience of others
- Return your 3D glasses to the provided bins
- Not bring glass or alcohol into the park
- Lift the seat on the toilet
- Trade only Disney pins with cast members
- Not go backstage
- Be on time for a reservation or priority seating
Mind you—we’re not talking about breaking the law. This is not an article about shoplifting Mickey T’s, utilizing a counterfeit park hopper, or even pulling on Tigger’s tail. We’re talking about general rules, policies, or procedures. Yes, the violation of those policies are protected by the legal wording of civility clauses on the back of the ticket and elsewhere. Anyone violating matters like this could conceivably be thrown out of the park. But it could get to a point that you create a police state monitoring these kinds of practices. And when you do that, you stop being the “happiest place on earth”.
I have had countless service providers ask me about this. They’re told that “the customer is always right.” But then they see customers do things that aren’t necessarily illegal, but are at least impolite, if not rude and disrespectful. How do you deal with satisfying these customers and still maintaining the experience for everyone else?
Walt understood this. Initially, one critic stated for the record that Disneyland could never be kept clean—that within only a few weeks it would become trashed. Walt rejected that notion. He knew that “cleanliness breeds cleanliness” and that if the right conditions were in place, people would feel obligated to seek after a trash receptacle to put their trash away.
The fact of the matter is: Customers are many time compliers also. And there are two ways of handling matters of compliance. The first is enforcement—making them do something—or else! The other method is one of getting people on board to being compliant. Which is best?
Here’s the truth: There is a body of work out there that demonstrates that getting people on board to doing the right thing is far less expensive and is more effective than forcing them to do something. Yes! Winning compliance is better than enforcing compliance!
And we saw that play out in a small way in the example showed earlier. Rather than doing those things that win me over to being compliant, I was treated via an enforcement mentality that left me embarrassed and upset. I did comply with passing through security in the way he mandated. But in doing so he won the battle, and somewhat lost the war. I later turned around, and as a fairly responsible individual, sought to “get even” by taking it out on buying a children’s meal.
Now I know what some of you are thinking—wow Kober, you really socked it to Disney taking out that child’s meal! But consider, I’m one of Disney’s biggest advocates! I’m a fan! I’m the “loyal customer.” Imagine how others who feel much less than I do respond. They take it out on Disney in ways much, much worse. And believe me, I’ve heard my share of cast member stories that begin with statements like:
- “You won’t believe how rude guests can be when you ask them to do something…”
- “ Let me tell you how they trash that attraction while they’re waiting in line…”
- “You have no idea what kids on grad night will try…”
Yes…there are always those few who will do harm no matter how you treat them. But there are solutions for getting the greater majority of good and honest customers on board to doing the things you ask of them. And in my next article, I’m going to outline those strategies. I promise you that these are some of the most important customer strategies you can learn.
By the way, I had a great time with my daughter. She went on Mission Space (green side) for the first time. And I did go to Guest Relations (something I rarely do) on our way out of the park. I found a terrific cast member who really listened. I explained how there was only one tram working—something that seemed inadequate given the premium you pay to park. He expressed surprise, and said he would look into it. I also mentioned my experience going through the exit gate when I entered the park. He laughed and acknowledged that he did the same thing and was yelled at, even though he was dressed for work, carrying a name tag, and had no bag. He really treated my remarks with respect and dignity. I look forward to seeing if a change comes soon to the experience of boarding a tram or going through security.
In the mean time, what about your organization? Where is this playing out on a day-to-day basis? Where are you required to provide great customer service while trying to get customers to do what you want them to do? We’ll cover some techniques for making it happen next time. In the mean while, here’s to making the magic in your business.
