Pride - Los Angeles is a great food town, with plenty of options for ethnic dining. I love variety and eat here and there, trying new things. I make sure to eat in LA's Korea Town a couple times a month, minimum. Contrary to my initial belief, there is a big variety of dishes and flavors. And of course, there is always some variety of the Korean national food, Kimchi. But hey, what's wrong with getting one of my daily veggie servings with a little kick and a lot of flavor?
The more I ate in Korea Town the more I came to appreciate the little call buttons that most Korean restaurants have at their tables. It go so that when I ate anywhere else, I'd long for them. Eventually it hit me - I'd found the ideal product to market/promote/sell! After all, I'd used it and absolutely loved it and its main use is in an industry in which I had worked 11+ years.
A quick description of the product, MyBell:
1. a call button is placed on or near each table
2. if/when a guest can't get the attention of staff, they press the call button that is located on or near their table
3. pressing the button sends a wireless signal with their table number to a digital receiver
4. the table number appears on the receiver and a sound chimes, alerting the staff which table needs assistance.
I soon discovered, and was repeatedly reminded, that my enthusiasm is not shared by American restaurant owners and managers.
No matter how I pointed out the benefits - increased check averages, fewer comped drinks, desserts, etc, more table turns on busy nights, staff savings on slower shifts - every restaurant manager turned up their noses.
On the other hand, when I tell friends and acquaintances about the product, MyBell, and they invariably tell me things like "I wish I had your system last night" or "So & So Restaurant could really use that! Service was so bad they bought our table dessert."
Finally I asked a restaurant person who had just rejected the product if they would point out how I should market MyBell. Her response was enlightening and I am very grateful.
What it boils down to is pride.
Most, if not all, American restaurants spend a good amount of time and money training their staff to be attentive, to be on the floor, to anticipate their guests' needs. And here I come with a product that they see as a slap in the face to what they stand for - providing the best quality of service. In their eyes, by using a call button they are sending a message that the service staff doesn’t really care.
The thing is, MyBell does the exact opposite. But I had not highlighted this aspect of the system, to show that by using MyBell, the restaurant has taken an extra step to provide the best service.
My dilemma: How do I show/explain that? We're talking about knocking down a wall that has been built over many years. Here is what I've come up with. Let me know of any additions or changes you can recommend.
Why MyBell?
MyBell is there for the moments your staff can't be™.
Unless you happen to run one of the handful of restaurants that has a team of 3 servers for every 2 tables, there is a good chance that the waiters on your staff will, sooner or later, need to leave the floor.
Most of the time, when a waiter leaves the floor, they come back in a timely fashion. But not always. Consider the following service bottlenecks that can and do pop up from time to time.
Service Bottlenecks
1. limited access to POS for putting in orders
2. as good as some POS systems are, people will sooner or later need to go to the kitchen to discuss an order
3.service bar delays
1.long line
2.complicated drinks
3.bartender need to run to the stock room to get something
4.guests with special food needs
5.large parties
6.legally required breaks
7.restroom breaks
8.minor injuries that need to be attended to, such as cuts from broken glass or wine openers
9.the credit card machine runs out of paper
10. POS breakdowns and paper jams
11.a manager is needed but can't be found
12.Wait staff are people
1.problems outside of work
2.problems with coworkers or management
3.the forgotten order
I'm sure you could add to the list from your own experiences.
You spend time and money training your wait staff to be attentive, to be on the floor at all times and to anticipate guests' needs. When the button is pushed and the chime sounds, you know that a waiter is either off the floor or otherwise detained. Your job, as management, is to assist the guest who pushed the button and then find out why their waiter/waitress was too busy to assist their customer.
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It's your your money. It's your right to know.
MyBell is meant to be used as a fallback assistant. But that "assistant" is always there. We advise our clients to point out the button when they seat guests and ask that they only use it if they can't get the staff's attention. Even if the button is never used, putting it out there lets customers know that you have taken the extra step for them.
A quick description of MyBell:
1. a call button is placed on or near each table
2. if/when a guest can't get the attention of staff, they press the call button that is located on or near their table
3. pressing the button sends a wireless signal with their table number to a digital receiver
4. the table number appears on the receiver and a sound chimes, alerting the staff which table needs assistance.
Button by the Pool
Win-Win and Win
Monday, March 15, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Kitchen 24
After hitting the gym yesterday I took a walk up Cahuenga Blvd. I wanted to check out Kitchen 24 and see the possibility of them using MyBell. Talk about the opposite of in-bound marketing, the place had had their menus delivered with the mail earlier in the week. At least they didn't go the route of hiring someone to stick them on everyone's doors the way some restaurants do.
Kitchen 24 has a nice feel to it: I'd say an upscale, open diner feel. High ceilings and a soothing color palette. Even more importantly, they have a nice, long happy "hour". I think it's from like 3PM to 11PM or something crazy like that. I took advantage by having a $3 bottle of Anchor Steam (no draft beer, which is unfortunate).
I ordered an open-faced meatball sandwich. I have to admit being a little put off when the waitron brought it to me - there being two nice sized meatballs covered with tomato sauce and cheese but hey! Where's my bread? And then I remembered 1- it's an open faced sandwich and 2 - the lack of bread was a perfect fit for my new lifestyle choice (read: diet). There was a flat piece of bread on the bottom, so I did get my bread fix. And it was tasty. I would have liked a bit more sauce, perhaps serving a ramekin of it on the plate.
Overall, their menu looks mouth watering. A nearby patron ordered a Monte Cristo Sandwich and DAMN did that sandwich look good. On the rich side, perhaps, but if I was in my 20s, I would go back there just to try that out.
Service was pleasant. I hit the place towards late afternoon, kind of between shifts, so it was half full and two waitrons worked the floor with the help of a manager and a busser. Although the place has 20 tables, it is kind of spread out, with sight blockage in the middle.
Of note: if you like hotties behind the bar, then this place is for you.
Would Kitchen 24 benefit from MyBell? A definite yes. Their cost/day? Less than a cup of their coffee.
Kitchen 24 has a nice feel to it: I'd say an upscale, open diner feel. High ceilings and a soothing color palette. Even more importantly, they have a nice, long happy "hour". I think it's from like 3PM to 11PM or something crazy like that. I took advantage by having a $3 bottle of Anchor Steam (no draft beer, which is unfortunate).
I ordered an open-faced meatball sandwich. I have to admit being a little put off when the waitron brought it to me - there being two nice sized meatballs covered with tomato sauce and cheese but hey! Where's my bread? And then I remembered 1- it's an open faced sandwich and 2 - the lack of bread was a perfect fit for my new lifestyle choice (read: diet). There was a flat piece of bread on the bottom, so I did get my bread fix. And it was tasty. I would have liked a bit more sauce, perhaps serving a ramekin of it on the plate.
Overall, their menu looks mouth watering. A nearby patron ordered a Monte Cristo Sandwich and DAMN did that sandwich look good. On the rich side, perhaps, but if I was in my 20s, I would go back there just to try that out.
Service was pleasant. I hit the place towards late afternoon, kind of between shifts, so it was half full and two waitrons worked the floor with the help of a manager and a busser. Although the place has 20 tables, it is kind of spread out, with sight blockage in the middle.
Of note: if you like hotties behind the bar, then this place is for you.
Would Kitchen 24 benefit from MyBell? A definite yes. Their cost/day? Less than a cup of their coffee.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
A Wheelchair, 2 Steps and Pickles
This is a true story of how NOT to handle customer complaints.
New Orleans. Summertime, 1992ish. No conventions in town. If you work in a restaurant in the French Quarter in New Orleans, you know that means slow times. If you are a waiter working a lunch shift, think ghost town, no $$ and you’re only there because you have to be. Most likely you spend the shift planning on what drink specials you’re going to take advantage of on Bourbon Street after work.
On one such day we had a grand total of two reservations. I was front-of-the-house manager and it was my honor to wear the fine Calvin Klein double-breasted suit as maitre’d. To ease the pain, I had cut the staff to 2 waiters and on busboy. One of the reservations was for a party of 16, which had requested two round-tops that sat near the window overlooking the street, all the way at the far end of the long, 3 room dining area. We obviously had no problem honoring that request.
The problem came about when the party of 16 grew into a party of 20. The round-tops could comfortably fit 8 each. 9 each would be a squeeze. But 10 each? Very tight. I offered to push together a few tables to form a more comfortable 20-top but the hostess of the party insisted they would be fine.
Our second reservation that day was a 2-top, which was entering just as I came back from one of my dealings with the large party. One of the waiters was holding the door open while a woman helped a man in a wheelchair up the two small steps into our bar/lobby/greeting area. I've got a cousin who has always been wheelchair bound so I'm pretty competent in assisting but they didn't really need any help. The couple turned out to be a mother with her 20-something son and from what I gathered, he was only recently wheelchair bound and not afraid to show his displeasure about it. Who wouldn't be upset?
I show them to a table right off the bar. It was a carpeted, paneled room, which gave it the air of a club or library. One of the waiters then comes in from the bar area, leading two people in. They were joining the now 20-top.
Oh boy.
I switched out with the waiter and led the couple back to their party. One thing I forgot to mention is that the chairs in the restaurant were not small. They were older, leather covered comfortable spring affairs. I once again offered to change the tables out but was once again rebuffed by the now boisterous group. They somehow or other squeezed, and I mean squeezed, everyone in.
And that was it. Not one other person walked through the doors that afternoon.
The trouble came when they wanted to leave.
The mother in the party of two came up to me and asked if there was another way out, as her son did not want to navigate the steps. Not a problem. We had two street level entrances. One was directly behind one of the tables occupied by the big party, so that was out. The other was off a little hallway where we occasionally stored extra chairs and table tops. Perfect.
The mom and her son followed me to the hallway door and when I opened it my "lightning fast" reflexes allowed me to catch a chair as it fell on me. Our intrepid staff from the night before hadn't felt like running the excess chairs up to the second floor. It would take me a good half hour to clear the hallway. I looked across the room at the big top that was blocking my only other option.
Great.
I walked over to the table, my two guests in tow, and asked if they wouldn't mind getting up so we could move the table so this young man and his mom could leave. They were having a good time and were great about it. But it required a lot of navigation. If you know the video game Tetris, think of that but with a table packed with slightly inebriated people. One would slide this way and another was able to get out. Another would slide that way and another would get out. I don't know how they sat could enjoy that seating arrangement, as I would have been pulling my hair out.
And then we had to slide the table out, being careful with the water glasses and wine glasses, plates and bowls. Oh my!
Eventually, the mom and her son were able to leave. And surprisingly, the son appeared to be in a good mood. Maybe our food had put that smile on his face.
We got the table re-sat and they went on having a loud, fun time, the whole restaurant to themselves for the next two hours.
But don't forget. This story is about how NOT to handle customer complaints.
A few days later tho bookkeeper handed me two letters that came in the mail. Remember, this is the early 1990s. No Yelp, no online reviews, no email. Just the good old US Postal Service.
"You better take a look," she said, in a tone that meant trouble.
The first letter was from one of the people in the party of 16/22. She ripped into me for cramming them into the two tables. And then she let me have it for "embarrassing that poor man in the wheelchair".
The second letter was from the mother of the man in the wheelchair. She was effusive in her praise of our restaurant and how happy her son was that day.
I showed the letter to one of the owners. I told him I was going to make a copy of the letter from the mom and send it to the complaining customer along with the explanation for not moving them to another table.
The owner read the letters, looked at me and said "Don't bother. I know her and she's an ass."
"But she's going to tell all her friends -"
"Don't waste your time." And he kept the letters.
That owner never would tell me how he got the nickname of Pickles. But I can guess...
New Orleans. Summertime, 1992ish. No conventions in town. If you work in a restaurant in the French Quarter in New Orleans, you know that means slow times. If you are a waiter working a lunch shift, think ghost town, no $$ and you’re only there because you have to be. Most likely you spend the shift planning on what drink specials you’re going to take advantage of on Bourbon Street after work.
On one such day we had a grand total of two reservations. I was front-of-the-house manager and it was my honor to wear the fine Calvin Klein double-breasted suit as maitre’d. To ease the pain, I had cut the staff to 2 waiters and on busboy. One of the reservations was for a party of 16, which had requested two round-tops that sat near the window overlooking the street, all the way at the far end of the long, 3 room dining area. We obviously had no problem honoring that request.
The problem came about when the party of 16 grew into a party of 20. The round-tops could comfortably fit 8 each. 9 each would be a squeeze. But 10 each? Very tight. I offered to push together a few tables to form a more comfortable 20-top but the hostess of the party insisted they would be fine.
Our second reservation that day was a 2-top, which was entering just as I came back from one of my dealings with the large party. One of the waiters was holding the door open while a woman helped a man in a wheelchair up the two small steps into our bar/lobby/greeting area. I've got a cousin who has always been wheelchair bound so I'm pretty competent in assisting but they didn't really need any help. The couple turned out to be a mother with her 20-something son and from what I gathered, he was only recently wheelchair bound and not afraid to show his displeasure about it. Who wouldn't be upset?
I show them to a table right off the bar. It was a carpeted, paneled room, which gave it the air of a club or library. One of the waiters then comes in from the bar area, leading two people in. They were joining the now 20-top.
Oh boy.
I switched out with the waiter and led the couple back to their party. One thing I forgot to mention is that the chairs in the restaurant were not small. They were older, leather covered comfortable spring affairs. I once again offered to change the tables out but was once again rebuffed by the now boisterous group. They somehow or other squeezed, and I mean squeezed, everyone in.
And that was it. Not one other person walked through the doors that afternoon.
The trouble came when they wanted to leave.
The mother in the party of two came up to me and asked if there was another way out, as her son did not want to navigate the steps. Not a problem. We had two street level entrances. One was directly behind one of the tables occupied by the big party, so that was out. The other was off a little hallway where we occasionally stored extra chairs and table tops. Perfect.
The mom and her son followed me to the hallway door and when I opened it my "lightning fast" reflexes allowed me to catch a chair as it fell on me. Our intrepid staff from the night before hadn't felt like running the excess chairs up to the second floor. It would take me a good half hour to clear the hallway. I looked across the room at the big top that was blocking my only other option.
Great.
I walked over to the table, my two guests in tow, and asked if they wouldn't mind getting up so we could move the table so this young man and his mom could leave. They were having a good time and were great about it. But it required a lot of navigation. If you know the video game Tetris, think of that but with a table packed with slightly inebriated people. One would slide this way and another was able to get out. Another would slide that way and another would get out. I don't know how they sat could enjoy that seating arrangement, as I would have been pulling my hair out.
And then we had to slide the table out, being careful with the water glasses and wine glasses, plates and bowls. Oh my!
Eventually, the mom and her son were able to leave. And surprisingly, the son appeared to be in a good mood. Maybe our food had put that smile on his face.
We got the table re-sat and they went on having a loud, fun time, the whole restaurant to themselves for the next two hours.
But don't forget. This story is about how NOT to handle customer complaints.
A few days later tho bookkeeper handed me two letters that came in the mail. Remember, this is the early 1990s. No Yelp, no online reviews, no email. Just the good old US Postal Service.
"You better take a look," she said, in a tone that meant trouble.
The first letter was from one of the people in the party of 16/22. She ripped into me for cramming them into the two tables. And then she let me have it for "embarrassing that poor man in the wheelchair".
The second letter was from the mother of the man in the wheelchair. She was effusive in her praise of our restaurant and how happy her son was that day.
I showed the letter to one of the owners. I told him I was going to make a copy of the letter from the mom and send it to the complaining customer along with the explanation for not moving them to another table.
The owner read the letters, looked at me and said "Don't bother. I know her and she's an ass."
"But she's going to tell all her friends -"
"Don't waste your time." And he kept the letters.
That owner never would tell me how he got the nickname of Pickles. But I can guess...
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Freshest Sushi Ever
A friend and I were in Japan, taking the Shinkansen (Bullet Train)around the country. It was summer, it was hot, we wanted to check out the swimwear, so we got off the train in the town of Atami, a beautiful beach community.
We arrived right around lunch time and all the restaurants were packed. We lucked out and got the last table in the 3rd or 4th place we tried. The place was pretty cool - fish swam in a pool of water that separated the sushi bar from the dining area and you had to walk over a short bridge to get to the dining room.
We sat down - all the way down, as it was one of those places where you sit on cushions on the floor, which is not my fave, being 6'4", long legs and all. Anyway, we get the menus and they were in Japanese. Of course. We were in Japan. But no helpful pictures!
We looked around and as luck would have it, a Japanese man who had worked with the US military was a couple of table over. He must have seen the "Doh!" looks on our faces and gave us an assist in perfect English and we ordered what he recommended....
To make a long story longer, we ordered a couple of big Asahi beers - nice and cold on that hot day. A short while later they brought out our food. A beautiful plate, if a little scary - there was a long, narrow bodied fish, its fileted body pierced head and tail so the body curved into a "C" and it was sitting on that which had once been attached to it - beautiful, succulent, VERY fresh fish.
I took a long look at it and picked up a piece of fish when BANG!!! The damn thing's mouth opened as it tried to breathe.
It was a challenge to eat that poor thing as it watched but I figured since it had given its life for me, I had to honor it somehow.
It took a while for me to get over that experience. And yes, I do eat sushi and sashimi. With some initial hesitation.
We arrived right around lunch time and all the restaurants were packed. We lucked out and got the last table in the 3rd or 4th place we tried. The place was pretty cool - fish swam in a pool of water that separated the sushi bar from the dining area and you had to walk over a short bridge to get to the dining room.
We sat down - all the way down, as it was one of those places where you sit on cushions on the floor, which is not my fave, being 6'4", long legs and all. Anyway, we get the menus and they were in Japanese. Of course. We were in Japan. But no helpful pictures!
We looked around and as luck would have it, a Japanese man who had worked with the US military was a couple of table over. He must have seen the "Doh!" looks on our faces and gave us an assist in perfect English and we ordered what he recommended....
To make a long story longer, we ordered a couple of big Asahi beers - nice and cold on that hot day. A short while later they brought out our food. A beautiful plate, if a little scary - there was a long, narrow bodied fish, its fileted body pierced head and tail so the body curved into a "C" and it was sitting on that which had once been attached to it - beautiful, succulent, VERY fresh fish.
I took a long look at it and picked up a piece of fish when BANG!!! The damn thing's mouth opened as it tried to breathe.
It was a challenge to eat that poor thing as it watched but I figured since it had given its life for me, I had to honor it somehow.
It took a while for me to get over that experience. And yes, I do eat sushi and sashimi. With some initial hesitation.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Up Periscope
My wife and I used to frequent a particular branch of a smallish (10 locations) SoCal chain. Good food and a nice higher-end casual atmosphere at not-to-high prices. We'd usually go on off-nights, say Monday or Tuesday, which gave us a wide choice of seating. We like the booths that run along one wall as they are, well, booths. The benches are comfy and the backs of the seats are very high, which affords a bit of privacy.
Which is where the problem comes in. The high backs also cordon customers off from the staff.
Staff members walk by but with the high backed booths, you can't see them in time to get their attention. So, unless they stop at the table, it is almost impossible to get anyone's attention. Peering out the end of the booth puts one in danger of head removal by a fast moving, tray-laden waiter or a customer in a hurried search of the restroom. So we never could order that second pint of beer or get the dessert menu before the urge for either had passed. Maybe good for us. But not good for the restaurant.
The booths do afford a nice view of the dining room and an outdoor seating area. The view is nice for some people but feeds into my OCD for stranded customers. On more than one occasion I noticed people needing a staff member for an extended period of time. One in particular was in need of their check to be processed - their baby was acting up and the couple was clearly flustered. They looked around, got up, sat back down, steam started spouting from their ears... It got so bad that my wife had to make me stay in my seat. When we were lucky enough to have our waiter stop by, I told them of the other table's need and then requested our check.
I did place a call to the owner of the restaurant. We talked and exchanged a few emails but he wouldn't go for a free month's trial of our system. Even after I gave him my first-hand review. I can sort of understand it in that he might have felt that I was buttering up my story in order to get a sale. But I think all of us have stories of a similar ilk regarding restaurants and service. He might even have a few.
What's yours?
Which is where the problem comes in. The high backs also cordon customers off from the staff.
Staff members walk by but with the high backed booths, you can't see them in time to get their attention. So, unless they stop at the table, it is almost impossible to get anyone's attention. Peering out the end of the booth puts one in danger of head removal by a fast moving, tray-laden waiter or a customer in a hurried search of the restroom. So we never could order that second pint of beer or get the dessert menu before the urge for either had passed. Maybe good for us. But not good for the restaurant.
The booths do afford a nice view of the dining room and an outdoor seating area. The view is nice for some people but feeds into my OCD for stranded customers. On more than one occasion I noticed people needing a staff member for an extended period of time. One in particular was in need of their check to be processed - their baby was acting up and the couple was clearly flustered. They looked around, got up, sat back down, steam started spouting from their ears... It got so bad that my wife had to make me stay in my seat. When we were lucky enough to have our waiter stop by, I told them of the other table's need and then requested our check.
I did place a call to the owner of the restaurant. We talked and exchanged a few emails but he wouldn't go for a free month's trial of our system. Even after I gave him my first-hand review. I can sort of understand it in that he might have felt that I was buttering up my story in order to get a sale. But I think all of us have stories of a similar ilk regarding restaurants and service. He might even have a few.
What's yours?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Turning Away the NBA - AKA A Haunting Restaurant Story
It was mid-week in either 1988 or 1989, well before wifi and DingDongINC.com. I was the manager/maitre'd at Memphis - a trendy Cajun restaurant on NYC's Upper West Side. The long mahogany bar had a nice crowd. The restaurant was full except for a 2-top but we had a reservation set to come in at 8:00, 15 minutes away. The place had a nice, pleasant hum about it. We were in the right groove on the perfect LP, even if we were actually playing CDs by then.
In walks a nicely dressed couple. He in a suit and tie, she in a fashionable dress. The kind of couple any restaurant would be more than pleased to call customers.
"Do you have a table for two?" he asked. Me, knowing the score, answers "We should have a table in half an hour or so." He points to my empty 2-top. "What about that one?" I follow his look, knowing which table he is indicating. "We've got to save that for a reservation." He nods and they head for the door.
One of the busboys comes up and asks, just as the couple slowly and elegantly walks the length of the long bar and exits "You're not going to seat David Stern?"
"Who?"
"That guy is David Stern, the commissioner of the NBA. Table 44 is open."
"We've got a reservation coming in in a few minutes." He shrugged his shoulders and went back to work.
I looked at the table and then back at the door. Indecision. What a killer. But I'd decided. Or had I?
I walk to the door and peep out. The couple is standing at the corner, hand and hand, waiting for the light to change. A picture of elegance. I have time to go and get them.
I don't.
The reservation? They never showed up.
The table sat empty the whole night, haunting me, even to this day.
That busboy? His name is Cheng Ling. He became a partner with the owner of Memphis and they went on to open several still happening, profitable restaurants in NYC.
Do you have a restaurant story that haunts you?
In walks a nicely dressed couple. He in a suit and tie, she in a fashionable dress. The kind of couple any restaurant would be more than pleased to call customers.
"Do you have a table for two?" he asked. Me, knowing the score, answers "We should have a table in half an hour or so." He points to my empty 2-top. "What about that one?" I follow his look, knowing which table he is indicating. "We've got to save that for a reservation." He nods and they head for the door.
One of the busboys comes up and asks, just as the couple slowly and elegantly walks the length of the long bar and exits "You're not going to seat David Stern?"
"Who?"
"That guy is David Stern, the commissioner of the NBA. Table 44 is open."
"We've got a reservation coming in in a few minutes." He shrugged his shoulders and went back to work.
I looked at the table and then back at the door. Indecision. What a killer. But I'd decided. Or had I?
I walk to the door and peep out. The couple is standing at the corner, hand and hand, waiting for the light to change. A picture of elegance. I have time to go and get them.
I don't.
The reservation? They never showed up.
The table sat empty the whole night, haunting me, even to this day.
That busboy? His name is Cheng Ling. He became a partner with the owner of Memphis and they went on to open several still happening, profitable restaurants in NYC.
Do you have a restaurant story that haunts you?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Service Hunter
I have to admit something; I like to shop. Check that - I like the anticipation of buying something, going to the store that I think has that certain something, finding it, paying for it and going home to enjoy my purchase - whether it be a new wireless router for my home network, a car dock for my Motorola Android, or a shower caddy that won't rust.
My latest venture was for an electric can opener. The last time I had visited my 82 year old neighbor, I saw a can of cranberry sauce that she had tried to open with one of the old fashioned drinking can openers. You know the type. A triangle pointed end that pierces the top of the can - from the years before cans came out with flip-tops.
Anyway, I went to the store, found the electric can opener aisle and saw a row of units, with stock on the shelf above the display. As luck would have it, the one I wanted didn't have any units on the stock shelf. I had my heart set on this particular unit, as it had accessories that anyone, especially an 82 year old with arthritic hands, would like. It had jar opener, an opener that fits over the cap of a water or ketchup bottle and provides more leverage. It even had a special cutter for the nearly impossible-to-open hard plastic encased objects.
I set off looking for a staff member to see if there was any more stock. My hunt lasted 5 minutes. Not a lifetime, by any means, but 5 frustrating minutes out of my life. I finally saw a group of staff members several aisles over unloading a pallet and enjoying some camaraderie, which I interrupted.
I may be ringing my own bell but I think most people would agree that it would have been more of a win for the store if there had been some way to alert the staff that a customer needed assistance. Say if there was a button to push in the aisle that alerted the staff that a customer in aisle XYZ needed assistance.
Did I get the can opener? Not that model. It was out of stock.
Did my neighbor like it? She LOVED it but... She said she only needed to open a can maybe once-a-month and that she would come knock on my door the next time she needed one opened.
My latest venture was for an electric can opener. The last time I had visited my 82 year old neighbor, I saw a can of cranberry sauce that she had tried to open with one of the old fashioned drinking can openers. You know the type. A triangle pointed end that pierces the top of the can - from the years before cans came out with flip-tops.
Anyway, I went to the store, found the electric can opener aisle and saw a row of units, with stock on the shelf above the display. As luck would have it, the one I wanted didn't have any units on the stock shelf. I had my heart set on this particular unit, as it had accessories that anyone, especially an 82 year old with arthritic hands, would like. It had jar opener, an opener that fits over the cap of a water or ketchup bottle and provides more leverage. It even had a special cutter for the nearly impossible-to-open hard plastic encased objects.
I set off looking for a staff member to see if there was any more stock. My hunt lasted 5 minutes. Not a lifetime, by any means, but 5 frustrating minutes out of my life. I finally saw a group of staff members several aisles over unloading a pallet and enjoying some camaraderie, which I interrupted.
I may be ringing my own bell but I think most people would agree that it would have been more of a win for the store if there had been some way to alert the staff that a customer needed assistance. Say if there was a button to push in the aisle that alerted the staff that a customer in aisle XYZ needed assistance.
Did I get the can opener? Not that model. It was out of stock.
Did my neighbor like it? She LOVED it but... She said she only needed to open a can maybe once-a-month and that she would come knock on my door the next time she needed one opened.
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