April 30th was my birthday and I took the day off. It was supposed to be a relaxing day. It began by making pancakes with my wife, then playing video games for a while. Soon after I went to get a massage followed by some lunch. Lunch threw my day off. We went to a new-to-the-neighborhood, upscale, sit-down sandwich place called Jerry’s. Their menu is gigantic. I figured that deciding what to eat would be the biggest problem I’d have there. I was wrong.

After we ordered, we noticed three new tables of people seated at various times. We also noticed that about 20 minutes had passed without food. Again, we’re talking sandwiches, not exactly the type of food you’d expect to wait a long time for. A little more time passes and our waiter comes out to tell us that he’s sorry, but our order was “stuck behind a giant take-out order”. This changed my mood from anxious to frustrated …

… and now a tangent on how my mind works:

If someone walks into a sandwich shop to place a giant take-out order, they can safely assume they’ll be waiting a for awhile. If my wife and I sit down in a sandwich shop and order two sandwiches, we assume it won’t take very long. If the kitchen would have understood these common assumptions, they would have realized that the length of time added for the person waiting for the take-out order by having two additional sandwiches made (ours), would have been minimal compared to their overall wait time for their “giant order”. In reality, the take-out customer would likely not even notice the extra time. Instead, the restaurant left two different sets of customers waiting for the same amount of time for two drastically different-sized orders.

My point? Scientific thinking in the kitchen doesn’t always have to yield foam and/or crunchy, flavored air — it can lead to a better experience for the customer.

Back to the story. To make matters worse, after waiting for almost 45 minutes, the three other tables that were seated after us got their food before we did! Once our food finally did arrive, something interesting happened: my sandwich was so good that the frustration I felt for having to wait 45 minutes for it was calmed significantly. Significantly, but not completely … hence this article. If the food wouldn’t have been worth the wait, then this would be an entirely different story. At the very least, their food was great, and that’s a start. However, like in many businesses, the product is only part of the experience.

Before I continue, I’d like to point out that I’m well aware that this restaurant may not have any ongoing problems with their customer service. Our bad experience could easily be, and most likely should be chalked up to “sometimes, shit happens”. I’m an eternal benefit-of-the-doubt giver, but the experience did get me thinking about how this relates to the type of business I’m in.

Remember our server who apologized for the tremendous wait? He didn’t make sure the customers waiting the longest got their food first. The lesson here is to back up your apologies with actions; don’t just apologize to your customers because you think you should, or worse … to make yourself feel better.

In his book “The Last Lecture”, Randy Pausch points out that “a good apology has three parts: ‘1. I’m sorry’; 2. ‘It was my fault’ and 3. ‘How do I make it right’. The last part tells about your sincerity.” Consolation is a vastly overlooked area of customer service, which is essentially Randy’s third part of a good apology.

At Threadless, if something goes wrong that’s our fault, you’ll get a coupon code for money off your next purchase. It’s a great way to say to your customer, “We’re human and we’re sorry but sometimes these things happen. So, here’s something we hope will help soften the blow”.

Consolation could be your only chance at a do over with a customer. Take that chance.

What else could anyone who handles a product-driven, customer-service-related company learn from my experience? First, know that simply having good products won’t retain your customers (but it does certainly help). At Threadless, we’re well aware that the impression between product and customer is fleeting, while the impression between company and customer is long-lasting.

Next, recognizing an issue or problem on the approach is almost always better than reacting to it at the intersection. At the point of intersection, the damage has already been done and the only thing left to do is play damage control. In most businesses, it’s usually two different teams of people who handle the “approach” (strategy/planning) and the “intersection” (customer service). A huge part of being on the “approach” team is understanding, and more importantly — caring, that every approach you miss, the “intersection” team has to clean up for you.

So, as a customer, does this mean that I’ll go back to Jerry’s? Sure I will. Their “product” is great. Only next time, I’ll probably just get it to go.