"No service?" ask two irate customers in a New Yorker-style cartoon as they pitch articles of clothing across the bar. "No shirt! No shoes!"
They may have even lit up a cigarette in a no-cigarette zone.
It's no secret the U.S. retail sector is hurting as the holidays approach, having just reported its worst quarter since 1992.
Still is the contracting job base an excuse for the No Food, No Drinks, No Strollers, No Change, No Restroom, No Backpacks, and No Pets signs you see outside so many stores?
And the No Refunds or Exchanges, No Bills Over $20, No Credit Cards, No Items Sold Without Tag, No More Than 2 Items in Fitting Rooms, and No Special Orders Without Deposit signs you see inside them?
Welcome to you, too!
Twenty years ago, it was an ethnic joke that God created WASPs because someone has to pay retail. Today, the joke might be someone has to buy offline—since it's so much easier and quicker to buy on the Internet.
But instead of rewarding shoppers who choose bricks over clicks and brave the other "No" signs—No Parking, No Standing, No Loading, No Idling—shoppers are greeted with semi-committed clerks wearing Bluetooths on their head and Vicks NyQuil $12.99 badges at their collar bone.
Of course no one can blame underpaid teenagers, forced to answer the store phone while working the counter, for annoyance at people who try to pay with cash—CASH—instead of debit cards. And checks? Let's not even go there.
But do store managers really think the same clerks who ignore people can charm them into signing up for the store's loyalty or rewards program? As, gulp, valued customers?
Of course we didn't reach the point of stores trying to lock in your loyalty as a customer after ignoring you for 14 minutes—Personalization With No Service—overnight.
It is the logical outgrowth of two retail trends:
Service cutting, which debuted when restaurants discovered people would bus their own tables for no reason and tip when they didn't even get table service. (Hello?)
And personalization, which debuted when restaurants discovered people would order more when greeted with a "Hello My Name is Dwayne and I will be your server. Tonight's special is a glazed, skewered, marinated, caramelized..." speech.
(Was this the beginning of videos replacing reading?)
Personalization With No Service is what brings "special" offers of jewelry and leather goods in your credit card bill at the same time the company slips in a $60 "service charge" they hope you won't notice.
It's reductions in rental car, hotel, and snorkel guide costs in the Golden Traveler Program that are exactly equal to the cost of joining the program.
And of course the flip side of Personalization With No Service—also known as We-Love-You-When-It-Costs-No-Money—is Service-With-A-Snare.
Service-With-A-Snare is best known for employees who are instructed when they provide you a legitimate service like phone or cable to try to sell you something extra as a condition of your service. The classic example is: "Before we restore your dial tone can we interest you in our Friendly Weekend Families program..."
There was a day when U.S. customer service was the talk of the world. Especially compared to European stores which were known for sparse shelves, sparser hours, and clerks who say they will show you an item you're interested in, "perhaps tomorrow."
A woman in the former Soviet Union was said to be so disconcerted by a local store that had converted to U.S. style service—Hello! We're Glad You're Here; How May We Help You?—she ran out of the store screaming.
But then employees started costing Real Money unlike Internet shopping carts.
Internet shopping carts sent you a post purchase e-mail every day after you placed your order—Your package has Left the Warehouse! It is On the Truck! It's in Your Time Zone! It's in Your Zip Code—whereas employees wanted wages, health care, and retirement plans.
So managers began to try to make customers feel valued without valuing them. And the answer was employees, who they also didn't value, pushing loyalty programs while wearing NyQuil badges.
Martha Rosenberg is a Chicago-based columnist and cartoonist who frequently writes about contemporary life.
She can be reached at martharosenberg@sbcglobal.net.
