Deranged Penguin

I’ve been thinking a lot about lunch today. Not because I’m hungry, but because there’s a place by my work that’s a bit like Avis – they try harder.

You don’t need me to tell you that the economy is sucking right now, and restaurants in particular are hurting. Even “value options,” which are seeing something of a renaissance, face tough economic times on top of the same old competition that they had before. This place in particular is pretty standard kind-of-thai pocket restaurant that one expects in a city – you walk past at least one of these per block in some places, in others they’re all huddled together. (Don’t get me started about food carts in Portland – they have their own brand of voodoo magic that’s worth a different post.)

And this restaurant is one of them. It’s nothing special to look at, has a completely disposable name, and serves pad thai and mu shu pork and other things that put starch and protein together with a sauce. It has no ethic identity to really hang its hat on. It’s not gourmet. It’s fodder for the worker bees who inhabit the offices all around it.

But what it does have is a social director. A guy named Chen.

Chen wouldn’t let me take his picture, I think because he didn’t get why I would want to talk about him. He also asked that I not mention the name of his place. I don’t know if he’s protective of his brand or simply a little weirded out by this somewhat regular customer asking to take his photo. When I talked about using his name, he said “just call me Chen, all right? Everyone knows Chen.” So Chen it is.

Chen stands sort of near the door of the place, and he works the line. If it’s super busy he takes orders. If it’s slow he shoots the breeze. A lot of the time he’ll duck back around the counter to bag up an order or disentangle some lineblocker at the front. He’s interested in efficiency, but only to the extent that it’s of value to the line. And he’s interested in your comfort and experience while you’re in the line, and your enjoyment of the food once you’re served. I’ve heard him steer people away from dishes, even when it’s clear that the person ordering only ever orders that. “Not today, today tempeh.” He brags when he has fresh veggies and the specials always rotate around what’s in the market. He upsells, oh so gently, all kinds of things. Sticky rice and mango. A thai iced coffee. A bun, a salad roll, a treat of some kind.

Even when he’s just joking with the line, he’s running the place. He barks orders to everyone else, intervenes when escalation is called for, and generally exudes that aura of responsibility that comes with small business ownership. So what’s he doing out in front?

When you own the business, you’re always out in front.

Sure, the name of the place is not “Chen’s awesome place that is Chen’s,” but it would only take one trip to realize that he’s the owner. And more than that, he’s the brand. there are a lot of places where you stand in line to place your order and get your food, but not many of them have a guy whose sole job appears to be to make you happy while you’re there. That’s strong relationship building, all on its own. But Chen goes further than that – he advises. He ensures that you’re getting what you wanted (unless there’s something better that you hadn’t thought of). He operates in that gray space between “service” and “authority” that makes people so uncomfortable in banks, and he makes it okay.

The value proposition is murky, but I know that if I’m in the mood for any of a handful of East Asian cuisines, I will likely end up at Chen’s place. Because it is Chen’s, and it is awesome, and he has earned my loyalty through ceaseless, personalized-but-also-distributed, attention to detail. That’s powerful stuff.

What’s on the line for you?

The inauthenticity in internet marketing that I apparently never tire of complaining about is poisonous not only because it’s too loud too often, but also because the “personalization” rings hollow. There’s no Chen in the endless parade of squeeze pages and FREE AWESOME TOOLS. There’s no understanding of what it means to be a servant and a solution and a social coordinator all at the same time. And that’s what we need to be, from a coaching perspective, from a content perspective, and from the perspective or attracting readers/clicks/whatnot.

What are you doing to make the kinds of relationships that the best service people have? Who are those people in your life and what can you draw from their practice? Please comment – I know that there are other stories like this. Heck, there are entire books about it (partner link). But I’d like to hear the lessons you’ve learned.