Keep internal messages internal

A recent trip to the bank’s drive-through was pretty revealing.

Now, this is not the slowest drive-through window I’ve ever been to (and I’ve been through more than my share), but I usually need a haircut by the time I get done. So, I had plenty of time to sit and brood. In doing so, my eyes happened upon a hand-lettered sign that was obviously meant for internal consumption only, peering at me from the window.

The sign was touting the virtues and benefits of a home improvement loan—not the benefits to the recipient, but to the bank. It seems the bank has an incentive program for the cashiers and anyone who “sells” a home equity loan gets a nice, fat bonus. The heading on the sign says “This month’s #1 priority—home-equity loans!”

It’s sort of like the signs that you see affixed to cash registers at some retail establishments, reminding the staff member to “Smile” and “Make eye contact” or to “Ask each customer if they (sic) need anything else.” These signs make me want to smile, because they suggest a rather basic approach to training and not a whole lot of confidence in the staff.

Plastering your educational objectives all over your school district’s buildings is a little like this. It’s fine to have an internal mission statement that says, for example, “Our objective is to help each student be a success, every single day” and to refer to that statement as decisions are being made.

But, remember that as you are getting your statement framed and suitable for posting that doing so takes an internal pledge and seeks to make it a marketing tool – which it isn’t. It’s little more than a promise to do your best, which doesn’t differentiate you from any other school district.

And that reminds me of the question I asked a former client in the health care field who proudly showed me the etched glass in their new hospital lobby that had the hospital’s slogan, which was (I’m not kidding) “We care.”

My question to her: Isn’t that what a hospital is supposed to do?

Is it so hard to just smile?

Having recently taken a long road trip for a short weekend in Texas, I had occasion to visit a fair number of convenience stores, gas stations and the like along the way for the necessities that come along with such a journey. Whether it was Wal-Mart, McDonald’s , 7-11 or even a local convenience store owned by the neighborhood mom and pop, they all lacked one thing – a sense of even the most modest appreciation for my business.

The experience ran the gamut from being ignored (missing the fact that I was standing in front of the clerk, waiting to hand over my money), to being marginalized (clerks talking on their cell phones while taking my money), to being invisible (the obligatory “have a nice day”).

Is it easy to stand behind a counter for hours at a time trading cash for the bare necessities of life? In terms of difficulty, yes, it’s pretty easy. In terms of the risk of abject boredom, it can be tough.

Yet, my presence – annoying though it may be in comparison to whatever they’d rather be doing – is the fuel that makes it possible to open the doors, fund the utilities that keep the drinks in the cooler cold, and pay the employees. The stores along the journey were a blur, because none of them seemed to care about my business. If just one person had smiled, looked me in the eye, asked where I was from – something – it would have been a fond memory in a sea of sameness.

School district representatives would do well to heed this example. If you can answer a patron’s question, address his or her concern, follow up when you say you are going to and so on, you will turn a perceived bureaucracy into a story that gets told over the back fence and helps continue to build the school district’s brand.