MARATHONING IS GOOD FOR YOU ...

We can’t wait to dig into the second season of “Orange is the New Black.”

And according to Netflix (a blame-worthy originator of the trend), 61 percent of its subscribers admit to similar yearnings for serial sessions.

Practicing binge-viewing is simple:  Download or stream TV seasons from your favorite purveyor, and watch for two to three hours.  And despite Newton Minow’s criticisms of the tube as a vast wasteland, a number of psychological professionals claim it’s no longer just a dreadful self-indulgence.

Think about their reasons:

• It’s a social experience (i.e., we usually watch with others)
• We watch one show, much like the way we’d read a top-flight novel … in sessions.
• The shows are actually good.  [Okay, okay:  We know folks who don’t like Breaking Bad.  But who could argue with House of Cards?  Or Mad Men?  Or … ?]
• It’s our selection, one not fueled by advertising or specific time slots.

In our heart of hearts, though, we wish one thing:  That we could transfer the experience of eyeballing the screen to eyeballing a book.  Our volunteering experiences with grade-schoolers have uncovered some incredulous-to-us issues with reading, even spelling out words.  It’s not just limited to kids either.  About half of US adults can’t peruse an eighth-grade level book.

Those stats impact everything we do.  The question then becomes, “how do we best entice employees and consumers and other constituencies to not only keep up with and understand our messages, but also actively enjoy the experiences?”  Ideas more than welcome at cbyd.co.

INTERACTIONAL TRANSACTIONS

By now, it’s apparent that we shop … or, at least, spend lots of time in visual retail contemplation.

[That’s online and off, if it matters.]

So we creatures of habit were slightly intrigued by Square CEO Jack Dorsey’s suggestion that we do more with purchase receipts than stuff them in shopping bags.  Others have followed up on that recommendation, with ideas ranging from talking receipts to those that extend the conversation via tone, brand, and voice.

Notice we said “slightly.”  Those little pieces of paper are, in our hands, annoying; we collect them in one place, then file for the annual IRS drudgery (and accountants’ delight).  If we belong to a frequent buyers’ club, we’ll note the points – and, perhaps, the rewards.  Then crumple them up.  Other than that, they’re a legally required nuisance mandated for all U.S. retailers.

What would it take for us to pay attention to our transaction?  Here are a few of our brainy-isms:

• Make it pretty.  Seriously, we’re like magpies, attracted to glitz and glitter.
• Make it useful.  That might include an embedded chip or flash drive, ready to input into our QuickBooks or waveaccounting or other records management.  [Then again, there’d probably be an upcharge for this … ]
• Make it memorable.  Gift cards, especially from the majors, are usually well packaged.  Tiffany’s lovely blue box, Starbucks’ pick-your-own plastics, Neiman’s always-smart ‘you’ve got a gift’:  Why not the receipt?

Or:  We’d easily be swayed to go the other way, giving our salespeople a memory stick and asking them to upload our receipts.  Period.

Too much brand conversation is, at times, simply too much brand talk.

A WORLD WITHOUT ...

A tucked-away article at the bottom of a Wall Street Journal mid-section raised our hair (or is it hackles?).

Quite simply, reporters investigated companies who’d either done away with or never had a human resources function.  Obviously, the article came in with mixed reviews, either citing CEOs who wanted to force personnel (argh!) issues to the middle or those who were mandated, legally and otherwise, to establish a bona fide HR department, with a credentialed executive.

Why the freak-out?  Because if it happens to this type of staff position, it could occur to any non-line function.  At any time.  For any reason. 

Specifically, our objections to the “out with HR” policy:

• Leadership is asking middle managers to do way too much.  Imagine juggling 401(K) education with a fire drill for retaining a client.
• Between listening to customers and listening to employees, there’s a whole universe of technical information to master.  Software can’t always handle it.  Nor can the general manager.
• Mediating among conflicting viewpoints takes some real training – and practice.  Name us the managers in your cadre who can do it well.  [Not just do it.]
• Ever get 100 percent compliance in the performance management cycle?  We thought not …

We heard you (and point taken):  It’s difficult to merchandise a ‘soft’ skill, a ‘soft’ capability like people management and communications and graphic design.  Everybody fancies him/herself a people manager, an editor or advertiser or communicator. 

On the other hand, it’s imperative that we as the sitting professionals master the art of showing tangible results and how we add value to the enterprise – no matter where we sit and what we do.  Without that, we’re toast.

LIP. SERVICE.

Of late, our preferred readings are filled with words like ‘customer experience’ and ‘customer delight’ and ‘customer excellence.’

To be honest, those phrases proliferated in the early aughts, in the ‘90s, and just about in any non-recessionary years that recognized the importance of the customer.

Usually accompanying those phrases are the accepted paragons, from entertainment wizard Disney and Seattle retailer Nordstrom to the ladies and gentlemen who work for the Ritz Carlton.  Everyone uses them as exemplars.  Many benchmark their practices, while others actually model new initiatives based on what they’ve uncovered as top-quality customer principles.  Changes in that organization’s customer experience are then rolled out across the businesses, with samples and stories galore.

What’s often missing?  The bottom layer.  The culture.  Genuine care.  A sense that  employees have fully bought into the idea, are schooled in the how-tos, and are completely attuned to customers they talk to, meet, and serve.  And furthermore, they consider it integral to their job success.

We know that, in Japanese primary education, they train all students in the art of omoiyari or hospitality, in the broadest sense.  It’s service that expects nothing and is given with grace and respect to anyone and everyone.  It’s more than just checking a list or delivering from obligations.  It’s simply heartfelt and authentic service.

Being professional, in the best of all ways, means an acute sensitivity to others’ needs and wants.  Though, perhaps, we can’t expect that kind of emotional commitment from a wait or counter person, from a store clerk or a pharmacy associate, we do think it’s time to re-institute the art of work.