Managing with Aloha Coaching

What can a Humble Wave do for you?

MY MANA‘O ~ ~ ~ If you are new to MWAC, Sunday Mālama is when we mix it up here. I may offer an extreme tangent to our current value of the month (for April: Mellow Maintenance Mālama), or write about something completely different. My very first Sunday Mālama was this one: A Beginning and this click gives you the full index to page through. I call Sunday Mālama my mana‘o meaning that it shares a deeper view of my thoughts, beliefs, and convictions with you, my Ho‘ohana Community. Thus, Sunday Mālama is also an invitation to share your mana‘o if you wish to.

It is amazing how a simple, humble wave of our hand in acknowledgment of another human being can make such a huge difference.

red earth V - self portrait by BotheredByBees on Flickr

I have turned into a waver ever since I worked at Hualalai Resort and we decided that waving would be part of our value culture. It started back in 1996 from the moment I was employed there (the resort was still under construction then), and the habit now feels like it is set in stone with me.

I wave at people I know, and people I don’t.

I wave at people the moment I sense I may catch their eye; I no longer look down or away.

I wave to trigger some magic connection to my face so I will smile within the same fraction of that moment I wave.

I wave to feel open, connected to hope, and expectant of our humanity.

I wave to feel safe. When I take my exercise runs and arrive at intersections, I don’t take another step forward unless I have waved to an approaching or stopped driver and am sure they have seen me. (They wave back, or at the very least will nod— good thing to teach your kids.)

When I travel, the culturally correct way to wave as a friendly and welcoming gesture is one of the first things I am careful to ask about, for there is simply no stopping my hands anymore, there is only the careful training of them.

Once, in asking that question, I had an older gentleman explain to me how to reach my hands out to animals in the right way, so I that I’d never get bitten, and so I would know if they’d allow me to pet them or not.

Good information to know.

Then: Waving and the value of Ho‘okipa

Though easy to gain entrance onto the resort, and one which includes a Four Seasons hotel, Hualalai is essentially a gated residential community of multi-million dollar homes. While I could work there and eventually became a corner-office exec there, it is highly unlikely that I will ever be able to afford living there.

Sense of Place on the Internet: A Brand New Community Ecosystem

Are you in?

If you feel you belong to an internet community, or have been feeding off the Mea Ho‘okipa there, I think it is time to re-think your old thoughts about lurking and protecting your privacy:

Say thank you by granting some trust,
stepping into the community sandbox,
and acting like you belong there.
Let people know you are reading,
and may be ready to contribute in some way.

Collaboration and social synergy just doesn’t happen all that well with shadows in the dark. A true community ecosystem needs you to be “all in” and not just hanging around in the parking lot.

“There really aren’t many secrets to how things work in social media. There are skills to learn, and then there are human traits to re-learn. And yet, when people jump into this space and try to get results for their efforts, they’re sometimes surprised and frustrated. Sometimes, when we’re rushed, we forget the “nice” parts of things, and yet, in a community ecosystem, that’s what will drive your results.”
—Chris Brogan: The Community Ecosystem

I love what Chris has written.

“There are skills to learn, and then there are human traits to re-learn.”
Niceties that come with being a good guest, and welcomed visitor.

It got me thinking about Sense of Place, and how our cyber community spaces constantly challenge us:

• Can we get as ‘grounded’ and place-connected ONline as we do OFFline?
• Just how close can our emotional connections with people globally, get us to those physical sensory connections we have with the places we actually feel under our feet?

Now we could get all idealistic about this, however an overly-generous inclusivity and profession of love for our fellow man would be kind of a cop-out to the discussion. Lets dig in and really think about this.

Sunday Mālama: You can do it for each other, why not for me?

Preface:
If you are new to MWAC, Sunday Mālama is when we mix it up here. I may offer an extreme tangent to our current value of the month (for January: Pono and the Why of Right), or write about something completely different.

Today, a customer service story.

My very first Sunday Mālama was this one: A Beginning

Wednesday afternoon we noticed that we'd be ending Day 2 of the new year with a leaking water heater.

We didn't feel that distressed about it, for oddly, it felt more like a long-overdue retirement was deservedly in order for venerable Mr. Trusty (who'd become old Mr. Rusty), for our 52-gallon powerhouse was just as old as our house, and has reliably served us for 19 years with nary an audible complaint (or errant cold shower.) My understanding is that water heaters will usually last from 9 to 13 years, so Mr. Trusty had really gone the distance... I've learned a lot about them in the past 3 days, and would've probably bought the wrong one had I not called Sears and got a real sweetie on the phone, but that isn't the story I'm about to tell you.

After some quick online searches and polling a few friends, including a handyman buddy of ours, the advice we heard most often was "Call Lowes. They'll have what you need in stock, deliver whatever you buy and dispose of the old one for you."

I got the local number and called them (they are about forty miles away from us). That is, I tried to. First time, every time, voice mail prompts. Only three choices to listen to, not bad, except that whichever choice I tried, the phone just rang, and rang, and rang. 9 rings, 12 rings, 18 rings... okay, tired of this game. Caught them at a bad time, will try again. I tried again, off and on for the rest of the day and evening, then gave up.

Lucky for us, our water heater sits at the back of our carport atop a wooden box on a concrete slab, and all the leaking seemed to mean was some wet concrete from a slow trickling toward our cars whenever we used the hot water. So we cut back on our usage, and find that Mr Rusty will still help wash the dishes, and give us a nice hot bath.

The next morning, soon as I knew they were open, I tried calling Lowes again. This time, I finally got a real voice a couple of hours later, with call number 7. Yes, there are other people who sell water heaters on the Big Island, but by this time I was determined to see how this would play out... companies give me real stories that are better examples in my coaching than any I can possibly dream up.

Mitch (not his real name) tried to connect me to Appliances three times, but he was unsuccessful. Amazingly, he never lost me though, and he did come back on the line each time. 9 rings. "Hello? No one answer yet? Lemme try again for you." 7 rings. "Wow, still no answer huh? Let's try again." 7 more rings. "Jeez. I know we're not that busy over there right now, I wonder where they are?"

"Tell you what Mitch, how 'bout if I give you my name and number, and you have them call me back?"

"That's a good idea, I was just about to suggest it. And don't worry, I'll find them for you."

You guessed it... Thursday evening comes, and no one from Lowes has called back.

Friday morning I tried again. My luck exhausted, I got seemingly endless ringing again. So next I clicked online, searched for Lowes.com, and dialed the 1-800 number for their "Customer Care" representative. Somewhere on the mainland (North Wilkesboro, North Carolina if their website is correct), more than the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean and a few time zones away from me, I'm able to navigate through those voice mail prompts (of course) and and get a pleasant young man on the phone. His name is Kevin.

"Kevin, I live on the Big Island in Hawaii, and I have been trying to get someone from Appliances in your Kona Store on the phone since Wednesday afternoon. Can you work some magic there and get them to call me? I'd like to buy one of your $314 50-gallon water heaters that your web site shows me is in stock, but I know we'll have to talk about the delivery options."

Now I'm expecting Kevin (not his real name either) to take my name and number and have someone call me back. However to my great surprise, he says, "Ma'am, I am so sorry this has frustrated you, and if I can put you on hold for just a few moments, I'll get someone on the phone right away."

I am so taken aback by his calm confidence, that all I can say is, "uh, sure."

Unbelievably, he is back on the line in less than two minutes, saying, "Ma'am, I have Tommy from Appliances in Kona on the line: I'll connect you now, but before I do, is there anything else I can do for you?"

I say no, thank Kevin, say hello to Tommy (also a made-up name) and get all the information I need (by the way... I get it thanks to Sears training me on a different call, and telling me what I must be sure I ask for because no one makes a new model edition of Mr. Rusty anymore). Tommy assures me he'll hold a water heater for me, and that he'll call me back as soon as he can arrange for the delivery (which he does, about 4 hours later).

Throughout all of this, we are really pushing the limit with Mr. Rusty and magically, he is still delivering.

I should be thrilled, right?

Wrong. Why will Lowes employees jump through hoops in less than two minutes for each other, and not for me, the customer with a "leaking water heater emergency" (as Tommy eventually referred to it), and with $314+ tax and delivery dollars in her hand?

And actually, there were no hoops at all. Kevin sailed right through perfectly calm seas the very first time.

Sunday Mālama moral of the story:

No customer understands any insiders' advantage your staff has that they don't, and when they find out about it, they get really, really annoyed.

To the customer, can do for people who work for you, should be can do for them too.

Your customers might even be very understanding with your staff, and nice as can be ---we know that we better be nice to them to have a hope or a prayer of getting whatever we need.

You get blamed as the business: I've changed the names of all the people involved, but there is no alias for Lowes in my article, and I added  seven links for them to track, because I want them to read this and start getting it right.

If I were them, I'd want to know.

Now wait a sec, one more thing, for this IS Managing with Aloha Coaching---

If you are breathing easier right now, thinking to yourself, "Gosh, glad I'm not Lowes," think again.

What can your staff get done between themselves that one of your customers might need to do too, and can't as quickly and as easily, or at all?

Go on a mission to find out, and fix it before your customer discovers it for you.

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Photo credit: [Line Out] on Flickr by E.²[Against Censorship]²

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Update: Here is an article I ripped out, highlighting it and making an idea list for my own company from.

I like this quote:

"Self-service sounds like it's about convenience, but it's making the client do all the work. That is an anti-customer-service message."

--- Dawson Rutter, Founder of Commonwealth Worldwide Chauffeured Transportation explains why after buying a $50,000 phone system for his company, they immediately disabled the feature that forced callers to navigate through endless menu prompts. Phone Commonwealth and you are greeted instantly with the recorded assurance that your call will be answered within three rings. "And it is."--- Leigh Buchanan, article author at Inc., of What's Wrong With This Picture? Nothing!