Is It Safe to Come Out Yet?
06/18/03
My observations about one thin slice of Raley's customer service ignited a powder keg of interest. I had that sneaking suspicion when my wife read the column, lowered the paper, looked at me and exclaimed, "Oh . . . my . . . God!"
My email in-box started humming about an hour after the paper hit the streets, and my phone began to ring. And ring. I was accosted (in a friendly way) at the baseball diamond, at a recent Rivercats' game, and elsewhere. I was prepared for that, and assumed my blunt comments would generate some level of response.
What I was unsure about was whether I would be taken to the woodshed or treated to an overpriced cup of Starbucks coffee. (Put your phones down; I am not going to gripe about their java and how they talked all of us into paying $3.50 for what used to cost four bits.) As it turned out, I was both spanked and feted, though not in anything approaching equal proportion.
As far as I can determine, two people confused me with Joan of Arc and wanted to burn me at the stake as a heretic. (That's nothing new: my third grade teacher used to threaten me with similar punishment.) The "Le Maid of Orleans" claimed she heard the voice of God and set about killing Englishmen during the Hundred Years' War. I, on the other hand, merely listened to the voice of reason in my head and did what was in my power to correct the deportment of an errant grocery clerk. Neither of my critics wrote to me directly to open a dialogue as so many of you did (my address is always at the bottom of the column). Neither did they question the accuracy of my experience. Their essential gripe was that I had the temerity to write about it. In public. So much for the woodshed.
What dumbfounded me was that so many others had experienced precisely the same thing, from the same person. Over and over. Nothing, they told me--including complaints--changed the situation. Several thanked me for having the courage to bring up the subject for discussion, because they LOVE their Raley's store and want it to maintain its customer-friendly spirit. A few praised my editor and the EDH Telegraph for agreeing to run it.
The morning after the article appeared, my editor rang to tell me that the district manager of Raley's "wants you to call him." We arranged a meeting that afternoon in Rancho.
On the off chance this was a set up, I would go missing, and someone would eventually find me in a barrel in the American River, I posted a note with the meeting date on the refrigerator and emailed my editor as a back up. (I had just finished watching "The Goodfellas" the night before; I have a very vivid imagination.)
A few hours later I met with Kevin Wright at a Starbucks off Zinfandel. It was a good conversation, heartfelt and honest on both sides. I stood by the article and he made no excuses. And I loved that. Rather than justify or rationalize or explain away what was unacceptable behavior from someone dealing with the paying public, he apologized and vowed to make it right.
"I take every customer complaint seriously," he told me, "and we always work hard to do what it takes to keep our customers happy." Kevin promised the issue would not be swept under the rug, and I accepted him at his word. Both of us agreed that the competition for dollars in today's marketplace is fierce, and that it takes hard work to keep customers over the long haul--something every business strives to achieve, but few actually accomplish.
The next day I shopped for a few things at Raley's and went through the line of a cashier who was extremely friendly and helpful. When she finished ringing up my groceries, she handed me my receipt, leaned closer and whispered, "I loved your column. Thanks for writing it." I admit it; those eight words made my day.
Two concluding observations: Raley's is in good hands. And the free market, backed up by a vigilant pen, is a wonderful thing.
