Authenticity Matters

In my book Break From the Pack, I argued that authenticity is essential for customer care. That is, if you want to use customer service as a point of brand differentiation and a path to competitive advantage, I wrote that “…you must genuinely believe in what you’re doing—and show it. You must commit to it with your entire heart, or you shouldn’t try it at all.” I wrote further that as a leader, you must insure that authenticity is not limited to idiosyncratic occasions or demonstrated by just a few fanatics, but rather is institutionalized so it becomes a core part of the way the firm (and all its employees) do business. Sounds reasonable, right? Unfortunately, many customers see true vendor authenticity as a relatively rare phenomenon. Recently, my family and I stayed on a Disney property in Orlando. Our first morning, I called downstairs to try to arrange a schedule for the day. Like most customers who don’t fit into a vendor’s carefully developed standardized “plan”, our wishes (for which we were fully prepared to pay) had some unique twists. Repeatedly, the “cast member” (Disney-speak) at the other end told me, without a drop of empathy and without a single “how about this?” alternative suggestion, that no--she couldn’t do that; no, she couldn’t answer that; no, that wasn’t her office’s responsibility; no, she couldn’t tell me who to talk with; no, no, no, no…. After 15 minutes, I was so frustrated that I finally blurted out: “I’m paying an arm and a leg for a deluxe room on your premium floor, and you’re telling me you can’t do anything for me, can you?” Her response, without a shred of embarrassment, was “That’s right.” My rejoinder was a snappy “I’m really disappointed. Good bye.” And then do you know what she said—mechanically, emotionless-- right before I hung up? I kid you not: “Have a magical day.” I had to laugh. They all say that at Disney. Of course, in this case, it was just words. They were as meaningless as some of those snazzy marketing promotions and noble mission statements and sweet-sounding communications memos to employees that turn out to be just words and no more. For me and my family in Orlando, that experience was more than inauthentic. It was demeaning. We managed to have a good time on our holiday, but we remembered……. In contrast, because it’s relatively rare, customers know when they experience genuine and deep authenticity, and it affects them profoundly. Last month I was called to jury duty. I intellectually understood, and accepted, my responsibilities as a citizen. Nevertheless, I confess that I arrived at the courthouse with a mixed sense of resistance, dread and resignation. As it turns out, I didn’t have to serve. The case was apparently plea bargained, and after several hours of waiting all 70 of us were sent home. Yet I am still blown away when I reflect upon the authenticity in the experience. First, upon arrival at the jury waiting room, I was greeted with a sincere smile by the staffers. I was thanked immediately for coming. Everyone who came was repeatedly and profusely thanked for coming. Based on the results of opinion surveys, the waiting room was Wi Fi’ed for laptops and equipped with four computer terminals for those without laptops. Coffee and tea and cookies were available. The chairs were comfortable, the room light and airy. A judge on another case came in and with warmth and humor explained how our roles fit into the process of justice and why our presence was important even if we didn’t actually serve on a jury—and he thanked us again. Whenever any of us had questions, someone on staff was available for a quick response. Every 20 minutes one of the staffers would go in front of the group and brief us on what was happening downstairs among the lawyers and how it might impact us. After answering any questions, the staffer would (each time) tell us a corny joke, then apologize for keeping us waiting, and once again thank us for being there. Sure, we were all happy to go home after nearly four hours, but I gotta tell you—I feel a lot better about jury duty than I ever have. The experience I had wasn’t full of fancy expensive bells and whistles (like at Disney World, for example). It just had a lot of personalized and institutionalized authenticity. The place reeked of it. And that made all the difference in the world. You know why? Here’s the secret, and whisper it to all your sales and marketing folks, to all your service people, to anyone whose work will somehow touch and impact the customer’s experience: As customers, we are absolute suckers for authenticity.