(Reprise post from 31 May)
In 1966, five years before the opening of his crown jewell theme park in Orlando, Walt Disney succumbed to cancer. His service legacy lives on through the Disney Institute where executives from around the globe come to embrace the Disney ethos and, in theory, bring Walt’s Way to their businesses.

Walt ensured Disney executives never allowed themselves to live in an ivory tower. Once each quarter they came to the park and worked a full day “on-the-firing-line.” They interfaced directly with customers and did everything from operate the Flying Dumbo elephants, clean loos, drive parking lot trams and serve food in theme restaurants. He never wanted anyone inside the Disney organisation to become far removed from the customer at any time.

Can you see Sir Terry Tesco or BT Ben and their managers devoting an entire day to any single store or customer in this way? (Sorry to make the coffee snort out your nose.) It’s a pity because one need not look far inside either organisation, often not even beyond the store or 1st supervisory level to see how far service has slid down the slippery slope. And we are as much to blame by our apathy to poor service… we mostly shrug and endure it.

Why have we allowed mediocre to seem excellent and become so predictably numbed that companies know we will still come to them no matter how outrageously they treat us? From discontinuing 0800 free numbers so WE pay the bill to call THEM via costly 0870 numbers to discuss OUR account (from which they then get as much as half the cost of each call) to booking entire service departments on a permanent passage to India… we are abused, given the run-around for hours until worn down by an impenetrable system that can have us getting an ASBO if we demand proper service!?!

35-years ago, I worked after-school in a family-owned supermarket. The early 1970’s was a time of perfect, square, paper sacks, 20 smartly-dressed cashiers and white shirt and tie “bag boys” under the watchful eye of manager Bill Gear. Mr. Gear’s “office” was essentially a broom closet. You’d never find him there because his real office was the shopfloor where all meetings and job interviews took place, on the fly, during his constant walks which he interrupted many times to greet customers by name.

His was a message and example learned early; “the customer is the most important thing in my day.” Mr. Gear instructed every new employee in the art and science of paper sack packing. We watched as he built a perfect square sack every time. “Build a solid base in the bottom with cartons, boxes and bottles, then fill the open spaces so the sack remains upright, rigid and supported by the load inside. Pack it too heavily and elderly customers cannot lift and carry them… too lightly, the order is not balanced and you waste bags. Place frozen items in a separate plastic bag (who knew then about global warming?). This keeps the sack dry. And always, ALWAYS ask the customer if they have a preference.” His mantra became ours.

Can you imagine this happening today? The scanner lady sometimes remembers to ask her rote line, “do you need help with packing your order, sir?” I was talking to a new scanner who admitted her entire training regimen was a ½ day of health and safety training and a ½ day observing another at their till before being thrown to the customers. When I asked if there was training on how to speak, interact with and solve customer issues, she giggled, “no,” with the unsaid, “why would we do that,” hanging awkwardly.

Calling BT requires a deep meditation to obtain a Zen-like state before dialling because I know I will lose an hour or more and raise my BP 50 points while listening to the disembodied voice say “we are very busy… and I can find the answers on www.BT.com” as I then pay them to hold for 25 minutes and watch departments point the finger at each other (never sure which digit they use). My favourite is the warning that if they send an engineer out and it is my fault they will charge me £130 plus any other charges they can concoct.

Uncle Walter Disney would spin in his grave at these antics. So it’s time to name and shame. This column will periodically look at the most egregious examples and, in the words of Peter Finch from the film “Network” get you to open your windows and scream as loud as you can, “we’re mad as hell and we’re not going to take it anymore!”

Trust me, you’ll feel better and like me finally be deserving of the strange looks your neighbours already give you anyways.

(As appeared February in The Western Mail, the National Newspaper of Wales)