It was a perfect Saturday afternoon. The local merchants association used a festive antique auto show as the magnet to pull customers into the small town square. The spirit was ramped up even higher by the local radio show broadcasting from the square. The treat was made complete by a host of charity groups selling or raffling everything from popcorn to dinner for two at the best restaurant in town. Still, the center stage was the line of antique cars.
The variety of vehicles was a special delight. There was a 1940’s ice truck, a 1925 roadster, a 1930 Model A Ford that looked just like the one John Dillinger used to rob banks. The biggest crowd pleaser was a 1936 Mercedes-Benz convertible. All the cars were perfectly restored with their shiny exteriors reflecting the tender loving care of their owners.
People watch the cars; we watched the people. If you approached a particular vehicle for a closer inspection, the proud owner was right by your side ready with an encyclopedia of facts and figures about the vehicle. And, if you tarried a bit longer, you heard tall tales about the auto and where it had been.
What if service providers were as consumed with great service as these owners were with their antique car? What if front-line service providers possessed half the knowledge about their offering as the antique auto owners about theirs? What would have to happen for you to display “antique-car-owner” pride for the service you deliver to your customers?
What can we learn from a service fall? Randy Myers writes a provocative article in Entrepreneur.