Stewart Wolpin

Genius Loves Company
January 23, 2008

As a New Yorker, cynicism is my natural state. As a journalist, it's my occupation. So when someone acts solicitously, my bullshit antenna rises Pavlovian-like. Why would someone do something nice for me? What's their angle?

For retailers, the answer of course is simple: they want my return business. But fewer and fewer retailers seem to want my cynical patronage. With a rosy glaze of nostalgia, I recall a smile, basic common courtesy and the idea that the customer, regardless of misanthropic quotient, was always right was the norm. Now it seems retail sales people are either as cynical as I am and act transparently polite because they have to, or behave disinterested as if they're doing me a favor by helping me make a purchase at their store.

Earlier this week, I was reminded that there is still a place where retail courtesy is not only still highly valued but is the primary commodity. After my experience, this cynical New Yorker was not only appreciative, but felt a heightened sense of loyalty and obligation to return as a customer.

Oh, please, retailers who believe that training employees to provide old-fashioned honest service with a smile is a waste of money, heed my tale.

I'm writing this in San Francisco while covering Macworld, ostensibly for this site. You may have noticed TWICE's initial Macworld coverage was written by my editor, Doug Olenick. That's because in a Murphy's Law bit of irony, in the middle of reporting Steve Jobs' keynote on Tuesday morning, the hard drive in my eight-month-old MacBook crashed.

Go ahead and laugh, but this exemplifies the difference between humor and tragedy: If someone slips on a banana peel, that's funny. If you slip on a banana peel, that's tragedy.

I wasn't laughing.

Luckily (or in one of those cases where luck could be the residue of design), there's an Apple store located three blocks from the Moscone Center. In case you've never been, all Apple stores include a "Genius Bar" where one can book an appointment and get free — F-R-E-E — tech support. Repairs, of course, will cost you, but only if you need physical parts. Advice, guidance and labor — bupkus.

Unfortunately, because of all the Mac heads in San Francisco for Macworld, the earliest available Genius Bar appointment was Wednesday evening, 36 hours later. I had not only my TWICE story to file, but blogs for other consumer outlets. The sincerely regretful Apple concierge on duty, Dylan, suggested I come back later in the day in case someone canceled or missed their appointment.

I did so. Dylan was not around, but Dillon (no kidding) was. After explaining my plight and putting on the best sad puppy dog look I could muster, Dillon took pity upon me and offered to help. Long story short, he discovered the problem and passed me along to Zach, who told me to leave my laptop and return in an hour. When I did so, he had replaced my crashed 120 GB hard drive with a 160 GB version, reloaded Microsoft Office 2008 software (which I purchased on the spot) and iLife 2008, metaphorically held my hand through the re-boot and basically got me up and running — all without an appointment, all with the highest level of sincere courtesy.

And don't think I got the Trump treatment because I'm a journalist (but thank you, Amy and Teresa from Apple's PR department). While sitting at the Genius Bar, I overheard another Apple Genius tell a customer not to buy a piece of software in the store but to buy it online where they could get it cheaper. I almost fell off my stool.

In my head, in conversation and sometimes in print, I've cynically compared Apple's preternatural employee ebullience to Hare Krishna cultism. I've often visited Manhattan's Fifth Avenue store in the wee small hours (like me, it's open 24/7/365) and, despite the hour, I was still greeted with Munchkin-like glee, except I hadn't landed a house on any wicked witches first. I just needed help. And they were happy to provide same.

So, I apologize to Apple. I'm converted. I've drunk the Kool-aid. While I reserve the right to maintain my New York skepticism, I'm officially ashamed of my journalistic cynicism.

And it seems I'm not the only one. Last month, The New York Times reported on the infectious nature of the Apple retail experience.

The bottom line is something all retailers know but many have forgotten: Good old-fashioned service results in return customers. But too often today it seems rudeness is a far cheaper commodity. Take it from a cynic — that's not even penny-wise.

Posted by Stewart Wolpin on January 23, 2008 | Comments (1)