The shrewd negotiator and the cake seller

Every businessman knows a story like this one, for this customer is universal. And it is a story that has almost nothing to do with selling cakes at all.

How it started

One day the seller of exotic cakes saw a confident customer enter into his shop.

“I was told you sell the best cakes in the world,” he announced. “Everybody around here says no cake has ever tasted as good as yours.”

Smiling at the compliment, the seller shrugged and answered, “Even if I have to say so myself, we use only the finest ingredients. We employ the most highly trained confectionary chefs in industry. And we do everything with a healthy measure of extra personal attention. We go a long extra mile to ensure that our cake remains the best the industry has ever known because this is our passion. We are here to serve the world with pride!”

“They do indeed look quite delightful,” the customer agreed. “And I can't wait to taste them. But how much does this one cost, for instance?”

The seller named his price and proudly held his cake for all the shop to see.

“Oh you are far too expensive!” the customer cried with an expression of startled disbelief. “If you want my business you’ll have to cut your price and be realistic.”

The supplier sighed as he quietly removed some chocolate and cherries from his cake, before recalculating the the price.

“Not good enough,” the customer insisted. “The seller around the corner sells his for 20% less.”

With a heavy heart the seller scraped some cream off and took several pennies off the price.

“Hmm… slightly better,” the customer grudgingly acceded.
Then suddenly he thought of something.

“Just put some celery on the cake, and then the deal is yours.”

The seller stared at the customer for a moment of confused disbelief. .

“Nobody puts celery in a cake!” he protested cautiously. "I can do that, but I'm sure you will not like it."

To this the customer shot him an accusing look.

“Who are you to tell me what I would or wouldn't like? I know more about cakes than you could possibly imagine. And most of all, I'll have you know that I am the customer and the customer is always right. Have you never heard of such a principle, or are you still too new in business?”

The seller could hardly argue against that, and so with shaking head he put some celery onto the customer’s cake. ‘The customer is always right,’ he tried to remind himself as he reluctantly arranged the celery sticks upon the customer's cake.

Even though the seller knew it would taste awful, the cake certainly looked pretty now, and the customer was quick to point it out and remind the seller that this proves how much he knows about cakes. 

Before the seller could warn about the taste gain, however, the customer loudly added: “If I take a dozen, you’ll have to give me volume discount, won’t you?”

The seller’s eyes clouded over as he realized where the customer was going. His products were made for those with high expectations. They also represented the lowest price that would make superior quality possible.

Unfortunately now there was no polite way to tell the customer that he was not interested in his business anymore. With trembling hand the seller therefore parted the layers of his cake and scraped the filling out as well. His products were all hand-made, of course. He also knew the seller around the corner used pre-mix ingredients and produced them on a factory production line so they could never taste the same. But price is price, and after all, everyone understands a volume discount, don’t they?

When he was done the seller leaned towards the kitchen hatch and asked for a dozen cakes to be brought forth. But right then an urgent hand stopped his action.

“I changed my mind,” the customer smilingly objected. “I think I’ll take just one cake after all. Just to see what it is like before I place a real order.”

With that, he smugly laid his money on the table. He had just succeeded in obtaining a discount on a discount, plus the volume price for one. ‘What a shrewd negotiator am I,’ he thought as he caught sight of his own reflection in the display shelf’s mirror.

With a startled expression the seller looked his customer in the eye. He knew that he had lost. But he did not regret the profit that has just evaporated. Even as he slipped  the case inside its box, he knew that he had lost the one thing that he valued more than money – his reputation as the best confectioner of the century.

A week later the same customer looked into his store again.

“I’m just here to tell you,” he sourly announced, “that the your cake really tasted awful. It was dry and flavourless, and there was nothing in it that made it special. Also, the balance of flavours was really very off. I don’t know what you do in your recipes, but you certainly could use some help from someone who knows more than you about baking. Furthermore, you really would do well to learn from your competition around the corner if you want to see how business should be done. You should try offering some value to your customers, you know? Walk the extra mile, sometimes. Don’t just sell a heap of sponginess. Put some cream and cherries on top. That’s what everybody does with cakes like these.”

As if to punctuate his disapproval further, the customer squinted sternly, and then summed up his protest by adding, “I don’t know what everyone was going on about, because your cake has nothing worth recommending at all. In fact, I am here to let you now that I will never buy another cake for you – and I’ll be sure to tell my friends as well.”

For a little while the seller contemplated sadly saying nothing.

But just as the customer was about to leave his store, he quietly asked a question: “So have you bought any of the man around the corner’s cakes lately?”

The customer hesitated for a moment, and cast a frowning look.

“Of course,” he lied. “And they taste far, far better than yours...”

The sequel

A few weeks later the same customer was visiting a friend, who served him the most amazing cake he had ever tasted. When he enquired where it came from, he was surprised to hear that it came from the same seller whose cake he had found so flavourless.

“I don’t know what I have such rotten luck,” he finally declared. “Wherever I go, I always get the worst of cakes. I get the worst of service and the most shocking consumer experiences. I guess you were just lucky. Don’t I ever wish I had your luck in life…”

The moral of the story? If you find a product vendor that prepares his products with the greatest care, pride and who visibly pays attention to fair pricing as well - be careful of negotiating all the value out of it. Unhappy customers are frequently those who make sure that all the cream and cherries gets scraped off before the take their purchase home.

Image source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cake 

Complaining people are unhappy people

Yesterday a customer rang me up to give me a very long and rather emotionally-pitched lecture. She said our service is "absolutely shocking." She said in stead of owning up we are covering up. She hinted twice that I have been lying to her. And then she urged me - as she had done on previous occasions "to seriously take a course in customer relations management."

I suppose we could save money on course fees by simply following her instructions. After all, she has been telling us how we ought to run our business since before she even became a customer. Inexpensive consultancy has never been so cheap before.

I don't think anyone could have pleased her anyway. But still, such calls are upsetting - especially if you yourself are a believer in high service standards.

Then there came the irony. An hour later I was on the phone with another customer. She, on the other hand, kept telling me how great we were and how she would do business with nobody else and that she is always telling everyone how good we are.

One service, two people, two perceptions. It is impossible, of course, that both of them can be right. So which one do you think is wrong?

I walked around with that woman's conversation in my mind all day. I was searching for the fatal flaw in our service. There is always something that could have been done more perfectly, but that's not the main thing that I was looking for. I was looking at what the common denominator was that made this one person so desperately unhappy. Why, out of several hundred customers, should there always be two or three that are unshakably convinced that they are recipients of the worst of service? I mean, they do not make up these feelings. They really and truly believe what they feel is reality.

Then I remembered the story of the nun:

A young nun once joined a convent which was run by a Silent Order. Upon her admission the mother superior informed her that whatever happened, not a word might be spoken within those walls, unless it was said with her permission. A year later the mother superior summoned the young nun to tell her that since her conduct had been so exemplary for a whole year, she would be permitted to speak one word.
The young nun thought for a moment and then shyly said: "Cold..."
The mother superior nodded sternly and then dismissed her to her room.
Another year passed until again the young nun was called in and permitted to say a word.
"Hungry...!" she whispered, with a desperate plea in her lonely eyes.
With a disapproving frown the mother superior waved her off and shut the door.
In this silent way another year slowly passed. For a third time the nun was brought before the mother superior.
"In recognition of you having been here for three whole years," the mother superior sternly said, "I will now permit you to say two whole words. You may speak them now."
The young nun hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and said: "I quit!"
For a long time the mother superior surveyed the girl before her and then sighed with resignation.
"I suppose it's for the best," she said. "You've done nothing but complain ever since you came here anyway..."

In my life I have known a lot of unhappy people. I have also found that unhappy people tend to be distinctly critical people. They are complaining people. They proudly approve of good service, not in a grateful manner, but merely recognizing it as being their rightful due.

They energetically seek to identify deficient service, and seek to make a contribution to the advancement of civilization by highlighting it. They draw up petitions. They write letters of complaint. They phone heads of corporations to give them a motherly earful. They keep files of all their correspondence with customer complaint departments. They tell kids and young mothers how they ought to be conducting themselves. They lean across post office counters and lecture clerks about their company's policy. They are the ones that will hold up drinking glasses to the light to make sure that there are no dirt marks on them. And if their should be a single fly in a million gallons of soup, they are likely to find it. They make sure to collect all the evidence. They try to do mankind a favour by bringing it to the attention to the whole world who might not have noticed. They are, after all, the self-appointed guardians of standards and good order.

It is funny how complaining people tend to be perpetual victims of plots and conspiracies, always on the receiving end of never-ending episodes of extortion and misfortune. How is it that these poor souls should always be so dreadfully misused in every way?

So the nun eventually quit the convent - and I do indeed feel sorry for her. But few would argue that she was better off by doing so in any event. In my case, I politely suggested that my complaining customer might be happier by using someone else's service.

"No, I have never had a problem with your product," he retorted. "It's just the shocking way that you people conduct your business..."

I also sighed with silent resignation. If only our service had been worse, perhaps this customer would have quit as well. That, after all, is the kind of customer I would dearly love our opposition to have.