Service with a shrug
Is retail service as bad as consumers think? PROFIT's undercover shopping mission confirms the worst — but shows that good service is within every retailer's reach

By Laura Pratt


When a green-smocked employee nods hello to Dennis Madison and I as we enter an office-supplies store, smiles break across our faces. We head for the daunting expanse of mailing labels hanging from a wall in this Grand & Toy outlet in suburban Toronto, confident the clerk will rush to our aid and help us find the product we want. But no help is on offer. As we remove package after package from their wall pegs, examine their contents and screw up our faces in befuddlement, the store's four staffers work and chat near a stockroom door at the rear. We sigh and exchange frustrated glances, but we're completely ignored. After a few minutes, Madison steps out of the aisle and flags a clerk down.

Madison isn't a bit surprised by the shoddy treatment delivered by people who are paid to make shopping a pleasure. He sees it all the time as manager of merchandising operations with Toronto-based A&A Merchandising Ltd., a provider of "mystery shopping" services to retailers in Canada, the U.S. and Australia. Posing as everyday consumers, his 300 undercover agents interact with retail clerks to test their product knowledge and service skills, and to ensure staff are employing the sales and merchandising strategies expected by head office. This being Canadian retail, they find lots to report. "We're always looking for faults," says Madison of his army of shopping spies, "and 99% of the time, retailers drop the ball."

That's bad news in a business known for tight margins and even tighter competition. While no one expects perfection, every mistake your people make offers fickle consumers another reason to shop elsewhere. So PROFIT asked Madison to take us on a secret search for the best and worst in retail customer service. Our findings: yep, service stinks. But retailers are rarely more than one step away from winning a smile — and a sale.

Madison and I plan our mission from a bench in Sherway Gardens, a large, upscale mall in Toronto's west end. He points out what constitutes good retail service, everything from a simple greeting when we enter a store to an expressed interest in our requirements to an honest effort to close the sale. Given the few shoppers scattered about the mall on this winter weekday, we expect retailers to be on their best behavior.

Over at Grand & Toy, our call for assistance brings a clerk our way. She's enthusiastic and can distinguish between the dozens of products on offer when questioned. But she never asks what we need the labels for — making it impossible for her to push a particular product. We leave empty-handed.

Once out of the store, Madison is bursting with ideas. "When she came over to help us, she should have told us the benefits of each label," he says. "She should have narrowed down our decision for us, instead of leaving us to make it on our own." While her energy impressed us, her selling skills did not. Our day-long mystery-shopping adventure begins with a failing grade.

We slip into Tip Top Tailors to shop for a suit Madison needs for a relative's wedding. The store is hued with this season's charcoals and browns, excepting some bright placards advertising a sale. One salesman casually ignores us as we walk right past him. "Hello there," says another salesman, who must abandon a customer to make our acquaintance. "I'm Orlando." Madison explains his predicament. Orlando listens attentively, then gracefully trails his fingers across a line of suit jackets before picking one for Madison to slip into. "Exquisite," says Orlando with conviction. Madison asks about alterations, prompting Orlando to explain they're worth the extra dollars Tip Top charges. Orlando is chatty and friendly and, when it finally appears that we're unwilling to hand over a credit card, he reminds us that the sale ends in a few days. "All in all, it was pretty positive," says Madison as we exit the store. He issues Tip Top a passing grade.

What happens at our next stop defies explanation. I watch from a distance as Madison enters Fairweather, a seller of women's fashions. Although the store's eight employees outnumber the customers, no one approaches Madison for a quarter of an hour. Again and again, he rounds the racks, fingering rayon blouses, pondering the merits of each skirt. "Being a male in that store, I should have been greeted right away," he gripes later on. "I should have been asked why I was in there. Clearly, I was buying for someone else." Finally, a managerial type nudges one saleswoman to approach Madison. "I'm looking for a birthday gift for my wife," he says. The saleswoman suggests a sweater. "I think she'd prefer something with buttons," he says. The clerk silently leads him to a selection of cardigans and, without asking about Mrs. Madison's favorite styles or colors, returns to the clutch of staff chatting around the centre counter. Grade: Fail.

Our next visit offers hope. As soon as we enter a tiny store called the Telephone Booth, a big, friendly guy asks Madison what he's looking for. He says he needs a phone for his aging parents. "Something with big buttons and a volume control," he explains. The clerk points out one suitable phone, which Madison says is perfect. Then Madison changes the subject. "I'm thinking of getting a cellphone," he says, "but I don't know anything about them." "How much time you got?" the salesman replies as he nods toward a wall covered in mobile phones. "What is the best plan?" Madison asks. "What about when you go outside of the city?" The salesman spends 20 minutes answering our questions. "Okay, thanks," says Madison, turning to leave the store. When the salesman neglects to remind us of the big phone, Madison drops a hint: "And thanks for your suggestion for a phone for my parents." "No problem," the salesman replies, turning his back. This clerk gets a passing grade for his patience and product knowledge. But with nothing to show for all that, his boss might disagree.

We visit three more stores in the mall. All three fail our examination (see Retail Report Card). Our hypothesis: service suffers when frontline staff work at a distance from store owners, as in many mall-based chains; things should be better on Main Street, where owners roam the floors.

We test our hypothesis in Bloor West Village, a bustling shopping district on Toronto's busy Bloor Street. The stores are mostly boutiques, many of them family-run, but even the chain stores have a cozy, close-to-the-people feel.

The service is prompt and friendly at our first stop, Bell Mobility. A warm, engaging salesman warns us of a wet floor as we enter, and proceeds to ask how he can help us. But it isn't long before he blows his chance to make a sale. "How are your phones different from all the rest of them?" Madison asks. "Honestly, I don't know much about the [competition's] plans," the salesman admits. "You'd probably have to look into that on your own." When we come back onto the street, Madison sighs. "Once we were in the store and engaged in a sales discussion, we should not have been encouraged to leave to check the competitors for ourselves," he says. "He should have played upon the positives of Bell."

We're greeted swiftly upon arrival at Home Hardware, and are asked if we need help. Madison says he's looking for a screwdriver. The response: "They're over there." Disappointed, Madison approaches another employee at the back of the store and shares a story about a clogged sink. The man climbs off his stepladder and walks us over to the plumbing department. Along the way, he asks several questions about the nature of the clog and what remedies Madison has already attempted. When we reach a shelf lined with drain cleaners, the shopkeeper picks his choice up and places it right in our hands. "That was good as closing the sale," notes Madison.

Four more street-front retailers take up our challenge during the course of the afternoon. While their overall performance is far from perfect, it's at least encouraging (see Retail Report Card). Only one delivers a flawless mix of friendly, helpful service and selling savvy.

We enter a bustling outlet of the Second Cup coffee chain. We're greeted right away and followed by a staffer to the coffee-bean counter. We ask about giving a gift of coffee to a friend. Clearly and confidently, the server tells us how many cups you get from a half-pound of beans, explains the difference between dark and medium roasts, and asks some questions about our friend's tastes. "This one," he surmises, "would definitely be the best choice for your friend." After a long day of sad-sack sales pitches and grudging attempts at helpfulness, we're spellbound. The server scoops a half-pound of beans into a shiny coffee bag, seals it with a colorful sticker and rings up a sale.

"That was wonderful," raves Madison when we're back out on the street. "The clerk could have said, 'Just buy this one, it's great,' but he took the time to establish what our needs were. And not only did he close the sale, but he closed the sale on the most expensive coffee. A-plus."

Clearly, good customer service isn't too hard to deliver. It seems most retailers need only to remind employees to try.