Keep it Simple Stupid

On Saturday, I visited a Vodaphone shop to try to my a mobile phone and a contract. This was because of the sad demise of my previous mobile phone, a wonderful Siemens device I had bought for 15 Euros.

The mobile phone died in a very Dutch way. Last Wednesday evening, I had a concert and a party to go to, on either side of a small forest in The Hague. I had often walked in this area, so I decided to get from one engagement to the other on foot, even though it was dark.

Then I took a wrong turning. I could go back to get on the right route, but, hey, I knew this forest, so I ploughed on. Up ahead was a path I knew well. My mum phoned so I was a bit distracted, as I jumped down onto the path.

Only the path wasn’t a path at all, it was a canal. The call to mum was the phone’s swansong. Mum says she heard some strange noises, probably me screaming. I wish someone had been nearby, it would have made a great video, grown man in concert clothes walking straight into a canal.

Walking into a canal is not something I recommend. There is a lot of gunk in Dutch canals. They are quite deep, very cold, muddy and slimy. It was very easy to walk in, but quite hard to climb out. Lesson learned – walking in forests after dark is a silly thing to do.

So that is how I ended up in the Vodaphone shop. And what a beautiful shop it was too, with sexy lighting, fancy equipment and tasteful marketing everywhere. I got the feeling that the store in The Hague was replicated in cities around Europe, or even the world. That company has a powerful brand department and plenty of money to invest.

But the senior managers and brand managers have plainly never been in any of these shops. For the customer, it was horrible. They could afford lots of equipment, but not enough staff. Of the staff that were there, half of them were wearing blue shirts, which seemingly disqualified them from actually dealing with customers. A blue shirt met us, listened to our needs, and told us that we would have to wait for a red shirt to be free, although he could offer us coffee while we waited. So half the staff were actually waiters, while the other half were overloaded.

When we finally reached the front of the red queue, we came to realise why we had to wait so long. It seemed to be impossible to conclude a transaction in less than twenty minutes. By the time we had explained our needs, listened to the array of contracts on offer, and linked these to physical phones, we were more confused than enlightened. Even when we were able to make a decision, there was still the long process of contracts and validations, and the simple expedient of keeping the same phone number added further complication.

The red team guy was excellent – perhaps surprisingly so, since he is probably paid a meagre wage and had to deal with many interruptions. Even the blue team guys seemed very willing and motivated, even if their only roles were greeter and waiter. Yet, as a customer, I came very close to just walking out and abandoning the whole process more than once. I felt frustrated, intimidated, and un-served. Are these the emotions that the Vodaphone brand managers aim for in their customers? Probably not.

The nearest equivalent retail experience I could link this to was the old fashioned way we all used to book holidays. The tour operator shop still exists, though most of us rarely set foot in them these days. It used to be the same, with long, long, transaction times and waiting times, staff of mixed motivation, and more often than not frustrating outcomes.

I find it ironic that the travel industry has reinvented itself through the internet. Most of us now do everything online and have better service and outcome as a result. The industry itself has not always reaped the benefits, as poor old Thomas Cook demonstrate. Yet the customer has won, and well-managed providers are still in business. But here we have a modern industry, mobile communications, invented around the same time as the internet, which has the most old-fashioned customer interface.

Surely someone should do an Easyjet or an Ikea on mobile telecommunications? There must be a way to reinvent things around the customer. Please let me know when it happens. I hope at least that occurs before the next time I walk into a canal.

Other modern industries have similar problems. Computer interfaces are still created by geeks. Surely those older people who only want to use google and e-mail could be served by now by a simple device with one large button advertising each, together with a keyboard of large letters, big buttons and no symbols? It would sell so well, even my dear mum could be a customer.

And what about other electronic devices? Philips, a fine Dutch company, is onto a winner with its slogan emphasising simplicity. Spot on. Yet my alarm clock cum CD still resembles the potted face of a teenager. No-one else can use mine, and I can’t use anyone else’s. That is not simplicity, my friends from Eindhoven, that is the result of too many application-loving geeks. No doubt some customers love the applications, but many customers would value something simpler.

Then there are banks. Ah yes, banks. But I want to be happy today, so I won’t dwell on banks.

I think part of the problem is often the distance between departments in large companies. The designers and the marketers live in different worlds from the shopkeepers. This is especially true for business models relying on in-store experience, like mobile phones. McDonalds and Starbucks and others have shown it can be solved. None of the petrol companies have. Nor has Vodaphone. Or banks. Sorry, I wasn’t going to dwell on banks.

When it goes wrong, the marketers emphasise standardisation, often internationally. That usually leads to stores where the staff have little discretion, and customer experiences with little regard to local needs. The most important management choice is often where in the chain to place the power and discretion. McDonalds has it right, each store feels like a motivated and tailored business. Same for Ikea. But many brands have forgotten the importance of the local interface.

Perhaps this is also the answer to the conundrum I asked myself last time, about democracy. WE should think first about the best level to make each decision. Currently, individuals have too much say about climate policy and fiscal policy, but not enough about their local schools. Democracy is mainly conducted at national level, with a few morsels left to a local level. This suits national politicians, but leads to weak outcomes.

So now we have a partial answer to the question: how is the euro crisis like Vodaphone? I’ll explore this further, so long as I can also answer the question about how to stay out of canals.