Don't be the "Slow Store"

"Honey, I have to run up to the Slow Store."

I utter these dreaded words about once a month when I am forced to go to my neighborhood "mail and fax" place. I had to do this last Friday to return a contract that had been mailed to me.

I call this establishment the Slow Store, because, well, everything about the place is painfully slow. Nothing there -- the people, the equipment or the transaction -- moves at my speed (which, at 37, is not really all that fast).

Have to send a FedEx? There's nothing quick about it. The clerk will write out a carbon copy sales receipt, but only after checking a laminated rate card and calculating the total cost on an adding machine. Forced to fax something? Get ready for business at the speed of syrup.

This would be charmingly antique -- like visiting one of those historical theme parks where people in period costume churn butter or make horseshoes -- were it not the case that I go here to get something done.

And it costs me money. Last Friday it was $17 for faxing 16 pages.

As I stood watching the clerk watch my contract inch through the fax machine, ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" pumped just a little bit too loudly through invisible speakers. It was the perfect bit of strangeness. I snapped the photo to the left during my wait.

I hate going to the Slow Store. But every so often I have to go there, despite the fact that:

The Slow Store's very existence is an anachronism sustained by the occasional tight spot.

It is the antithesis of customer-focused organization. The experience is driven by its needs, not mine.

It clings to old tools and price models.

It survives on the patronage of generations that know no better way.

I leave pissed every time. 

You see where I am going with this. What does the average human being experience when they walk into a real estate office (or hit a real estate brokerage website)? My guess is something not unlike my Slow Store episodes. They are sucked through a wormhole and emerge within a strange world of accordion files, fax machines and bad coffee.

They are slowed down, Steve Austin-style, by weird restrictions that make no sense. They are beset by fees that often seem as patently ridiculous as $17 for 16 pages.

And this survives, for now, barely, on the shaky ground of No Better Way. 

Don't be the Slow Store; be the Better Way

You can't make transactions happen right now. You can't market out of this thing we are in. But you can dazzle the customers you do get right now. Chances are you have the time. Craft an experience built around their needs, not yours. Eliminate artificial restrictions and pain points in the transaction. Go above and beyond.

These are just exhortations. I know that. Blanket prescriptions don't work here. What flies in one market or brokerage is inappropriate in another. But you know the boundaries. We make it our business to help you work within them.

The bottom line: If you are open to it, now is a great time to create true loyalty, to engender the cheapest, most effective advertising you could ever ask for: Word of mouth.

The people at my Slow Store seem nice. But their days are numbered. I wish for their sake they'd speed up.    

-- Brian Boero

Scent of a broker

When was the last time you flattened a glob of Silly Putty across a Beetle Bailey comic?

Or ran a wad of Play-Doh through the plastic spaghetti maker?

Or ripped open a brand new pack of Topps baseball cards?

You know what I'm talking about, right? You can almost smell it.

From Shangri-La Hotels & Resorts to Abercrombie & Fitch, more and more companies are spritzing our senses -- specifically, our sense of smell -- in an effort to build a deeper brand connection. Social scientists have long known that scents trigger memories, emotions and associations. But scent is gaining wider acceptance as a key dimension of branding recently.

Case in point: The aroma of A&F's Fierce cologne envelops every person strolling in front of one of the chain's stores. It lures their targeted customers toward the showcase window, where, hanging on the wall, just beyond the array of Daisy Dukes, is a larger-than-life poster of some JFK wannabee, topless and windblown.

Le Meridien hotels created a unique scent that captures the essence of its recent brand revival. It's piped through every floor of every one of their properties.

Other brands capitalize on scent to create ancillary products or to extend an experience. Consider the array of oils and candles made available to spa guests who want to recreate their 90-minute massage back at home. A bottle Johnson's Baby Oil could get the job done, but it's the $20.00 scented spa lotion that delivers the experience.

Does a real estate have a scent? Not yet. But it could. And considering the high level of emotion that courses through its transactional veins, I would argue that it should. There is no reason why a real estate brand cannot not take a cue from the companies I list above.

But what could some leading real estate brands smell like?

• RE/MAX. High above the clouds, our RE/MAX agent soars through the stress of the real estate transaction inside their hot air balloon. What does that altitude smell like? For me it might be the The Rio Grande Valley. Piñon. Crisp air. This scent could be piped through every RE/MAX office or handed out through a RE/MAX line of hot air balloon air fresheners for the home. Each time it spritzes, you think RE/MAX.
  

• Coldwell Banker. With its roots in Old San Francisco, this brand conjures up the scent of a well appointed sitting room in a Nob Hill mansion. The scent is a mix of mahogany, fine leather and oak embers -- a blend that elicits a sense of tradition, stability and discretion. CB could even fire up the scent in an exclusive line of specialty cigars.
  

• Sotheby's. A picturesque English countryside filled with Agrimony, Wild Marjoram and Heather serves as the perfect compliment for enjoying a simmering cup of Earl Grey. These scents conjure the finer things in life. Every Sotheby's office should smell like this, provoke those connections. They could be taken home through a Sotheby's gift line of wildflower seeds and teas.      

• GMAC. Why hide this brand's muscular flex towards real Americana? Power. Brushed steel. Detroit. I don't know a single person who doesn't love the smell of new car. In fact, that scent is known as the New Car Smell. How can that translate to the smell of buying a new home?
  

• Windermere. This brand speaks of pine trees, rain and the aura of its ozone aftermath. Much could be done with a light application of these scents through every office and on every piece of collateral -- an evocation of place no website or sign rider can deliver.
  

• First Team. This SoCal independent smells of sunshine. Boat drinks. The sea breeze. Their offices -- and a private-labled line of sunscreens -- should as well.
  

Perhaps you think this is far-fetched. It is most definitely not if you are committed to making certain that every one of your brand's touch points  -- whether seen, heard, touched or smelled -- communicates its essence.

Brokers who embrace this basic tenet of brand care will come out of the down market smelling like a rose.

- Davison

Wake them up from their dead dream

Back in 2002, when I was a partner at a technology company, a client surprised us with an unannounced visit. He drove five hours from his corporate office. Arrived wearing jeans, Tony Lama's and his signature Tommy Bahama shirt.

He hung out with our staff. Handed out gifts -- plaques denoting his appreciation to everyone involved in working on his project.

Later that day, he joined us at The Cliffs in Shell Beach. He bought dinner, handed out cigars. We stood near the gazebo and toasted as the sun deposited itself into its piggy bank horizon.

Then he handed each of us an envelope. I stumbled in my efforts to vocalize sentiment. The best I could come up with was something along the lines of "man this is so over the top and completely unnecessary." 

"Never forget who brung ya." he said, grinning.

Back then, his account was the life-giving deal that birthed our young company from the canal of anonymity. He would say that his gesture was a little gratitude for the big work we did to help launch his new idea. I would disagree. His gesture, one of many, taught me much about creating lifelong clients.   

Who was your first customer? You know, the one who took a risk on you before you were a proven anything? They brung ya.

Who was your last client? The one who bought into your reputation. Believed in the word of mouth about your company. Your service. Or maybe they were someone who took a gamble on faith. They brung ya too. 

Do they feel forgotten? What have you done to keep them believing, loving, heralding you?

Do they know how deeply woven into the fabric of your success story they are? If not, why?

Better yet, forget why. Instead get busy dusting off the memory. Wake your customers up from their dead dream. Shock them. Amaze them.

Vendors, brokers, agents: Find that gazebo where you can stun your customers and partners into speechlessness.

- Davison

Sunset from The Cliffs

 

There's something about Chip

I found Chip standing outside my front door this past Saturday morning.
The time was precisely 12:00.
I remember because it was at that very moment that I was blown away.

My wife collects people. Plumbers, electricians, handymen. She needs to. If asked, she'll say "put a tool in Marc's hand, reserve a gurney at the emergency room." It never fails -- a byproduct of inner city apartment living.

We go through service people like matchsticks. Few ever left an impression. Lori thinks they juggle too many clients at once. It sounds right. But it's nonetheless unacceptable.

Chip was the new hire. A handyman. Referred by a friend. He communicated with us a week ago. Said he'd arrive at 12:00 on Saturday. I've heard that before so I made other plans just in case.

Chip entered with a tool box and air of confidence. Dispensing with small talk he attacked the project immediately assessing the parts and created a supply list for Home Depot. There was something about Chip. I decide to postpone my backup plan and join him. 

For the first ten minutes he quietly drove his truck as I excused myself to take a call. When I hung up he asked what I do for a living and how I got into it. I explained.

I then asked him what his story is.
I've been dwelling on it since.

As it goes:

Chip was homeless between 1987 and 2003. Courtesy of alcohol and drugs. That was then. Today he owns a “service business” as he puts it. And a home. A truck. A trailer. A motorcycle. And a list of happy clients that refer him tons of business.

There is something about Chip. The way he navigated himself through Home Depot in search of an idea. The way he interacted with the sales staff in search of assistance. The way he passionately approached the simple task of installing some lighting in my house.

What I remember most about Chip was what he shared with me on the ride way home:

You know, there are a lot of handymen in San Luis. And I can honestly say that I am not any more skilled at what I do than my competition. But I don’t need to be. All I have to do is deliver on three simple things. I need to be on time. When I say I will be somewhere, you can take it to the bank. I need to complete the task when I say I will. Not two hours later. Not 2 weeks later. That means understanding the job as it is, not as the client describes. And 3, I charge $10.00 an hour less than everyone else. What I have figured out is that these three things are more valuable to homeowners than being the most skilled.   

The hour I spent with Chip is something I wish could share with everyone I know. Five years ago he was living under the three towers in Morro Bay. Today, when he is not delivering on his promise to his customers, he’s back out in Morro Bay delivering on a different promise.

There is something about Chip. 

I left him back at the house to finish the job. I had to take care of other things - things that did not require tools with sharp pointy ends.

Chip finished the job at 2:30. Precisely when he said he would. Not a drop of sheet rock dust anywhere. Lori re-hired him to install some air turbines in our attic next weekend. He had time to install during the week but I asked Lori request he come next Saturday. I wanted to be around when he comes back.

This morning I gave his name to a friend. He asked me how good the guy was. “He's as good as anyone" I said, but he's on time, gets the job done exactly when he says he will and he's ten dollars cheaper than his competition"

The last thing Chip said to me was “If you love what you do for a living, you will never work again.” Some figure that out early in life. Some later on. At the bottom of life's ravine.

You want to build a strong career? Start with the simple things.
The ones you can control.
The ones your competitors take for granted. The little things that will blow people away. Like returning a call immediately. Delivering your product or service ahead of time. Giving them a good deal even if they don't ask for it

And make that your everything.

- Davison

The Three Towers in Morro Bay, Ca

What if you received this in your inbox?

Dear Jean and Tom,

Hi, this is Marc Davison, General Manager of Davison Real Estate. In conjunction with Margaret Hill, your agent, I want to personally welcome you to your new home, and our community. This is a great place to live. I know that between unpacking and decorating, you probably have your hands quite full so we thought you might enjoy taking a break and joining us for our monthly company barbecue at Islay Park on Sat, May 16th. We want to get to know you better and introduce you to other new families that have also just moved into the neighborhood. There will be fun and games for the kids and some great housewarming gifts.

It starts at 1:00. You need not bring a thing.

Lastly, please take a moment to fill out this simple customer service feedback survey (a link would be provided) it will help us learn more about how we perform and hopefully improve our performance standards.

Sincerely,

Marc Davison
General Manager
Davison Real Estate

The 5 questions would be as follows and answers would be in the form of a Unsatisfactory, Satisfactory and Excellent rating:

1. How would you rate our level of service?
2. How would your rate our knowledge and expertise?
3. How would you rate our website?
4. How would you rate our professionalism?
5. How would you rate our experience against your expectations?

What if you were Jean and Tom and received this from the owner of the company your agent worked for?
What if you were the company owner that sent it?
What if you were the agent?

Would this not be a service that differentiates a broker and the agent?
Could this be a step towards creating a connection with customers that would move their opinion about real estate folk in a positive direction?
What do you think?

-- Davison

You are not everyone

This particular Godin post is worth reading.

If cementing a relationship is all about the lasting impression - what have you done lately to create a long lasting bond with your customers?

Given today's market conditions and economic trends, does the average American homeowner posses the analytical skills to convert what they hear and think they know about market conditions into cold hard facts about their home value?

I would say, most do not.

Maybe here is an opportunity to make a difference. It certainly wouldn't hurt if any one of the many agents I've bought homes from in the last 5 years would call me and avail themselves in sharing their market knowledge and assessment both short term and long term to my wife and I.

Not only would it ease some of our concerns, it would probably go a long way in cementing a relationship that is right now, very much up in the air and up for grabs.

Sure you can send a monthly newsletter with graphs and charts.
But everyone does that.
You are not everyone.

- Davison