There’s a universal law in business: no matter how much you spend on branding, it only takes one person associated with your company to tarnish your reputation. Oftentimes, it’s the first person your customers come into contact with. An employee. A vendor. A delivery person.
It doesn’t matter what the person’s title is—to your customers, that person is the face of your company. This is why it is so important that every single person your customers may come into contact with knows and embraces your mission statement.
Even “the happiest place on earth” can’t escape this truth. If I were to ask you who the face of Disneyland is, my bet is you’d either say Mickey Mouse or Walt Disney. After all, there’s a statue of the two holding hands when you enter the park. Up until two weeks ago, this would’ve been my answer as well.
That is, until I met the real face of Disneyland, the villain of this tale—the Toy Story Parking Lot attendant.
When I pulled into the lot, a man directing traffic pointed his baton at a tandem parking spot in-between two SUVs. I’d just spent thousands of dollars having my bumper replaced and dents removed after someone swiped my parked car in a mall parking lot and was feeling a bit protective of my car/wallet. Right next to him was an end-spot with a little more room. There weren’t any cars behind me, so I rolled down my window and asked if I could take the next spot over. As if attempting his best Gaston impression, he let out a condescending laugh and said, “If you’re worried about your car, you came to the wrong place.”
You know that emoji that just has two eyes and no mouth? I’m pretty sure I had the same blank expression after he said that to me in front of the magic kingdom.
Had my boss not gifted me the ticket and day off for my third-year anniversary, I would have turned around and gone home. Instead, I spent the next two hours asking myself: How can I increase my energy level on the ELI (Energy Leadership Index)? How can I change the negative thought I’ve attached to this emotion? What can I learn from this?
And, yet, even in trying to connect with my higher self, I could not break out of this funk. I tried to revel in the wonder I saw on children’s faces. I tried to appreciate the “cast members” who did embrace Disney’s philosophies. I even tried to let out a good, cathartic scream on the Matterhorn ride. But I just sat in the back of my bobsled, speeding through dark, howl-filled tunnels 80-feet in the air without making a peep. My rose-colored glasses had been shattered, and I could only see things through Eeyore’s eyes.
It was uncharacteristically cold and crowded that day, so as I stood in the hour-long lines shivering, I couldn’t help but wonder why Disneyland has never invested in heat lamps for times like this or misters like they have at the zoo when it’s hot. Suddenly, everything I’d read in The Disney Institute’s book on customer service—Be Our Guest—felt like nothing but a fairytale. (How’s that for a pun?)
Later, I saw a teenage girl get sick in line and was made to duck under the metal railing to avoid the mess. One of the “skippers” for the Storybook Land ride yelled at a little boy and girl, who looked to be only about four years old, when they were swinging the short chain link between the railing back and forth—and continued to do so even after they’d stopped.
I was freezing. Nauseated. And disillusioned. But I stayed because I wanted to see the one reason I’ve always defended Disney’s prices for their subpar food—their spectacular fireworks show. If you’ve ever seen it, you know a box of Kleenex® is required.
And, yet, for whatever reason, they chose to forgo the fireworks show.
Thus, I chose to forgo purchasing the list of souvenirs I’d planned on getting—a Walt Disney Studios sweatshirt (#filmmajor), a silver Disney Castle necklace to remind me to believe in my dreams, and a Disneyland mug. That would have been a couple hundred dollars of merchandise in addition to the cost of food, admission, and parking.
Now picture your business. Your customers. What would happen if you lost your most loyal patrons because the first person they came into contact with—whether a receptionist, delivery person, or parking attendant—didn’t represent your company’s values?
Does the face of your company know and embrace your mission statement? If not, why?
In a world where a dissatisfied patron can spread a poor experience like wildfire using social media, it seems every company—even Disney—would and should be ensuring every single person knows how imperative it is that customers/clients feel like they came to the right place.
Unless they’re in the personal development industry, it’s highly unlikely any poorly treated customers would attempt to do what I did, i.e., channel my inner Oprah to revive my excitement.
For years, Disneyland was a place of nostalgia for me…full of memories. An escape a la Eat. Pray. Love. And now, because of a gruff parking attendant, the first thing that pops into my mind when I think of Disneyland is—“You came to the wrong place.”
I keep wondering what Walt Disney would’ve done had he witnessed this interaction. I’m guessing he’d remind all of his cast members and Imagineers that every time they come into contact with a customer, they should aim to win their loyalty, regardless of how often that customer has visited.
How can you make your business feel like “the happiest place on earth”?
Act now, as I hear that tagline is up for grabs.
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