With the advent of electronic book readers a few years back, there was a lot of talk that e-books would eventually do to paper books what the iTunes system is doing to physical copies of records and CDs – someday everyone would just have a discrete electronic device that would have access to a huge library of electronic books in the space of a single volume. So far that hasn’t happened, thanks in part to the relatively high cost of both the reader devices and the e-books themselves, and in part to the reliability of actual hard-copy books. In a world where you have to worry about backing up almost everything repeatedly, it’s nice to own books in a format that never needs batteries and ignores magnets…
Now there’s a new device coming out that may give the old-fashioned book a new lease on life. A story featured on the Guardian UK Online site details a new technology called an Espresso Book Machine which is making its London debut this week. Essentially, it’s a high-speed automated printing system that can print, bind and cover a book in just a few minutes, connected up to a database of text files that currently includes about 500,000 books. If the company that makes it is successful in expanding their text library to the 1,000,000-plus books they’re currently talking about, that would give them the equivalent of over 26 MILES of bookshelves, or roughly 50 conventional bookstores worth, in the space needed for a large photocopier…
To me, that isn’t even the most mind-blowing aspect of the technology, however. Instead, let me call to your attention that not only can this device sell you any one of a million or so books, anytime you like, but unless the machine runs out of paper this (effectively) infinitely-large bookstore will NEVER RUN OUT OF A SINGLE TITLE…
Sorry for shouting, but anybody who has ever worked in Retail (or supply) can tell you that this is the single hardest aspect of running any retail outlet, and most other kinds of business, in fact. It’s certainly my single biggest pet peeve with conventional bookstores, which tend to have hundreds or thousands of feet worth of cheesy, ghostwritten celebrity vehicles and romance novels, but generally don’t carry even the classics in Science Fiction, Fantasy, Mystery, Detective Fiction or any one of a number of other subjects I’d want to purchase – and when they do, are always out of whatever I wanted…
Then there’s the Independent Publisher effect. Until now, the main things preventing self-publishing from becoming a viable industry have been marketing and distribution; a lone author (or even a small publishing company) generally can’t afford to advertise their offerings to enough people to make any difference, and there’s no way for them to convince bookstores to give up the shelf space for their books. But with unlimited shelf space, and the ability to generate buzz over the Internet, this gizmo could do for obscure authors what the Radiohead Gambit did for musical acts…
It remains to be seen if these machines can turn things around for the brick-and-mortar bookstore, of course. As amazing as this device is, it’s still not as convenient as having books delivered right to your door by Amazon, and it’s expensive enough that most small booksellers won’t be able to afford one, which means it’s mainly going to be good for the big retail chains. But for the moment, it looks as if the humble book may be getting a new lease on life…
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Pirates vs. Lawyers
Okay, I know the ongoing Internet meme is “Pirates vs. Ninjas,” but the fact is that if there are any ninjas running around in the 21st Century you’re really not likely to find out anything of substance about them in a business blog. Pirates versus lawyers, however, was probably inevitable from the moment an American-flagged vessel was taken and any member of the crew subjected to any inconvenience, let alone harm…
To the surprise of, apparently, absolutely no one, a member of the crew from the Maersk Alabama is suing both the shipping line and the company that provided the crew for subjecting him to an unsafe work environment, not having armed security aboard, not sending the ship on a safer route to its destination, and so on. I call it to your attention not to mock either the companies or the crew, but to point out that this is another one of those cases that is more complicated than it looks…
On the one hand, pirate attacks off the Horn of Africa are not exactly a new occurrence. In fact, the Alabama herself was attacked on at least two prior occasions on the same voyage before the pirates managed to board her successfully. This has prompted several nations to being regular anti-piracy patrols through that part of the shipping lanes, and some companies (notably the Italian cruise line mentioned a few posts ago) to start putting armed security guards aboard their ships. So it’s no stretch to imagine that both companies already knew the situation was a hazard and did nothing about it because of cost considerations. On the other hand, the fact that the crew had been holding safety meetings “every month for the last three years” (according to the crewman bringing the lawsuit) to discuss the situation suggests that they already knew they were going into harm’s way…
So who’s right here? Should the company have made greater efforts to protect the crew of the Alabama before they sent her back into pirate-infested waters? Should the crew have realized that the company was sending them into harm’s way and either demanded hazard pay or just quit and gotten safer jobs? Do we criticize the companies for trying to make more money by not going around the Somali coast and/or paying for armed guards, or do we call the crew on knowing the job was risky and then complaining when the risks actually came home to roost? More to the point, what would you do if it was your company – or a job that you otherwise liked and wanted to keep?
It sounds like some poor jury in Texas is in for a rough time of it. Personally, I’m just grateful that the closest we have to either pirates or lawyers on my current gig is the Law School across the street. And if there are any ninjas lurking around the Upper Midwest these days, I really don’t want to know about them…
To the surprise of, apparently, absolutely no one, a member of the crew from the Maersk Alabama is suing both the shipping line and the company that provided the crew for subjecting him to an unsafe work environment, not having armed security aboard, not sending the ship on a safer route to its destination, and so on. I call it to your attention not to mock either the companies or the crew, but to point out that this is another one of those cases that is more complicated than it looks…
On the one hand, pirate attacks off the Horn of Africa are not exactly a new occurrence. In fact, the Alabama herself was attacked on at least two prior occasions on the same voyage before the pirates managed to board her successfully. This has prompted several nations to being regular anti-piracy patrols through that part of the shipping lanes, and some companies (notably the Italian cruise line mentioned a few posts ago) to start putting armed security guards aboard their ships. So it’s no stretch to imagine that both companies already knew the situation was a hazard and did nothing about it because of cost considerations. On the other hand, the fact that the crew had been holding safety meetings “every month for the last three years” (according to the crewman bringing the lawsuit) to discuss the situation suggests that they already knew they were going into harm’s way…
So who’s right here? Should the company have made greater efforts to protect the crew of the Alabama before they sent her back into pirate-infested waters? Should the crew have realized that the company was sending them into harm’s way and either demanded hazard pay or just quit and gotten safer jobs? Do we criticize the companies for trying to make more money by not going around the Somali coast and/or paying for armed guards, or do we call the crew on knowing the job was risky and then complaining when the risks actually came home to roost? More to the point, what would you do if it was your company – or a job that you otherwise liked and wanted to keep?
It sounds like some poor jury in Texas is in for a rough time of it. Personally, I’m just grateful that the closest we have to either pirates or lawyers on my current gig is the Law School across the street. And if there are any ninjas lurking around the Upper Midwest these days, I really don’t want to know about them…
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Obvious Approach
Like most of you, I’ve been watching the Somali pirate saga developing, and wondering what could be done about it. Getting the Somali government to do anything about these relatively low-tech ocean-going thieves is probably futile, since the pirates are held in higher regard than any of the countries demanding their suppression, both by what passes for an official government in Somalia, and also by the Somali people themselves. Generally, these efforts have resulted in the “government” agencies siding with the pirates…
Unfortunately, so far at least, simply avoiding the area would still be more expensive than paying the increase insurance premiums (and occasionally ransom) in order to get your ships back. And frankly, asking the shipping companies to make less money because of the principle of the thing ignores the reality of business: shipping companies exist to make money, not hold firmly to their principles. The only way the situation is going to change is either for the various navy units (ours and those of other nations who are fed up with these criminals) to hunt down the pirates or for someone to come up with a lower-cost solution to the problem…
I was therefore very glad to read about an Italian cruise line that appears to have found just such an answer. In a story being reported by The Associated Press, it would appear that a group of Somali pirates attempted to attack one of the line’s passenger ships on Saturday, only to be driven off by gunfire and water cannon fire from the ship’s Israeli security personnel, who had in fact been hired for just such a contingency. While the security force was limited to handguns and fire hoses, it’s difficult to climb a ladder while someone is shooting at you (or blasting at you with a hose), and the pirates eventually gave up…
It remains to be seen if this will work out on a larger scale, however. Putting extra personnel on a cargo ship isn’t likely to be cost-effective (there are too many ships), and the various shipping companies have to worry about violating local gun laws when their ships make port. Still, I can’t help wishing that we could put small Marine detachments aboard every U.S.-flagged ship that passes through the area for a year or so. Or even every 10th or 12th one. With orders to kill any pirate who comes into range and sink their miserable little boats, too. I suspect that as soon as word got around, no one would be attacking anything flying a U.S. flag…
Alternately, I suppose, various countries could just contract the work out to the Israelis, who would probably be happy for both the positive foreign exchange and the public relations benefits. It has the potential for huge savings, improved international relations, and safer high seas travel, with the Somali pirates as the only losers, even potentially. And it would certainly be cheaper than the 60-ship international naval task force the experts are saying would be necessary to actually patrol the sea lanes in that part of the world…
Of course, the fact that the cruise line hired Israeli security personnel because “they are the best trained” is an excellent example of how a brand name works – in this case, the “brand” being an entire nation of people who have earned their reputation for being tough customers who don’t put up with much. But that’s a post for another day…
Unfortunately, so far at least, simply avoiding the area would still be more expensive than paying the increase insurance premiums (and occasionally ransom) in order to get your ships back. And frankly, asking the shipping companies to make less money because of the principle of the thing ignores the reality of business: shipping companies exist to make money, not hold firmly to their principles. The only way the situation is going to change is either for the various navy units (ours and those of other nations who are fed up with these criminals) to hunt down the pirates or for someone to come up with a lower-cost solution to the problem…
I was therefore very glad to read about an Italian cruise line that appears to have found just such an answer. In a story being reported by The Associated Press, it would appear that a group of Somali pirates attempted to attack one of the line’s passenger ships on Saturday, only to be driven off by gunfire and water cannon fire from the ship’s Israeli security personnel, who had in fact been hired for just such a contingency. While the security force was limited to handguns and fire hoses, it’s difficult to climb a ladder while someone is shooting at you (or blasting at you with a hose), and the pirates eventually gave up…
It remains to be seen if this will work out on a larger scale, however. Putting extra personnel on a cargo ship isn’t likely to be cost-effective (there are too many ships), and the various shipping companies have to worry about violating local gun laws when their ships make port. Still, I can’t help wishing that we could put small Marine detachments aboard every U.S.-flagged ship that passes through the area for a year or so. Or even every 10th or 12th one. With orders to kill any pirate who comes into range and sink their miserable little boats, too. I suspect that as soon as word got around, no one would be attacking anything flying a U.S. flag…
Alternately, I suppose, various countries could just contract the work out to the Israelis, who would probably be happy for both the positive foreign exchange and the public relations benefits. It has the potential for huge savings, improved international relations, and safer high seas travel, with the Somali pirates as the only losers, even potentially. And it would certainly be cheaper than the 60-ship international naval task force the experts are saying would be necessary to actually patrol the sea lanes in that part of the world…
Of course, the fact that the cruise line hired Israeli security personnel because “they are the best trained” is an excellent example of how a brand name works – in this case, the “brand” being an entire nation of people who have earned their reputation for being tough customers who don’t put up with much. But that’s a post for another day…
Friday, April 24, 2009
Rules vs. Image
Back in Elementary School, most of us learned the old saw about not judging a book by its cover, and before the end of Middle School, most of us had suffered at least one embarrassing lesson on the subject. But for some reason this doesn’t keep people from assuming that all lawyers are dishonest, all doctors are arrogant pricks who like playing god, all politicians are amoral mercenaries without a moral conviction anywhere in their soul, all police officers like to “put the boot in” once in a while, or that all bloggers talk too much…
All right; I’ll give you that last one. But this syndrome probably does account for the outrage coming out of Knoxville, TN over a disallowed insurance payout because of a pre-existing condition. Everyone who hears the story is just assuming that the insurance company is just screwing the policy holder out of money by invoking a little-known, seldom-used clause somewhere in the fine print. Which they are, of course; what makes this case special is that the policy in question is a life insurance policy…
There’s a story being reported ABC News Online about a man who died after being gunned down by “unknown assailants” under circumstances the police consider indicative of illegal activity. The insurance company is claiming that since they require disclosure of a customer’s medical condition before they will write a policy, and the dead man failed to disclose that he had hepatitis C, he was in breach of their contact and the policy is void. The widow is suing, claiming that neither the deceased nor she knew about his illness, and the company is just trying to screw them out of the money by invoking the “pre-existing condition” claim…
What makes this story remarkable is that we’re hearing about it at all. Normally, this would be an extremely dull civil case, in which the insurance company attempts to produce evidence that the policy holder did, in fact, know he had hepatitis C before signing the paperwork swearing that he didn’t, and is thus committing fraud (and perjury) by doing so. The policy holder’s estate would attempt to prove that he didn’t know any such thing, although this is difficult (since you can’t prove a negative) and they’d probably have to settle (or drop the matter) if the insurance company could prove its case. Particularly if Tennessee turns out to be one of the states in which you are responsible for whatever you contact to do (or not do), regardless of whether you understand the contract…
In this case, however, we have all of the makings of a sensational news story: a poor widow, a man being shot in the back, and an evil large company refusing to pay off on a life insurance claim because of hepatitis C when that’s clearly not what killed the victim. Never mind that the man had “a lengthy criminal record that included drug trafficking, burglary, vandalism and public drunkenness” according to public records. Never mind that the policy was still in its conditional phase, and the company was perfectly within its rights to cancel if they had reason to believe that the policy holder was lying to them. Never mind that the contract between the man and the company required him to certify not that he believed himself to be healthy, but that (under penalty of perjury as well as the cancellation of the policy) he actually WAS healthy…
The facts of the case are that the insurance company would have cancelled the policy the moment they found out about the hepatitis C, that the policy holder wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on after making claims about his health that were not true, and no one would have bothered reporting on it – if it happened any time before the AIG scandal and all of the other events that have made the insurance industry into one of the most hated sectors in American commerce…
All right; I’ll give you that last one. But this syndrome probably does account for the outrage coming out of Knoxville, TN over a disallowed insurance payout because of a pre-existing condition. Everyone who hears the story is just assuming that the insurance company is just screwing the policy holder out of money by invoking a little-known, seldom-used clause somewhere in the fine print. Which they are, of course; what makes this case special is that the policy in question is a life insurance policy…
There’s a story being reported ABC News Online about a man who died after being gunned down by “unknown assailants” under circumstances the police consider indicative of illegal activity. The insurance company is claiming that since they require disclosure of a customer’s medical condition before they will write a policy, and the dead man failed to disclose that he had hepatitis C, he was in breach of their contact and the policy is void. The widow is suing, claiming that neither the deceased nor she knew about his illness, and the company is just trying to screw them out of the money by invoking the “pre-existing condition” claim…
What makes this story remarkable is that we’re hearing about it at all. Normally, this would be an extremely dull civil case, in which the insurance company attempts to produce evidence that the policy holder did, in fact, know he had hepatitis C before signing the paperwork swearing that he didn’t, and is thus committing fraud (and perjury) by doing so. The policy holder’s estate would attempt to prove that he didn’t know any such thing, although this is difficult (since you can’t prove a negative) and they’d probably have to settle (or drop the matter) if the insurance company could prove its case. Particularly if Tennessee turns out to be one of the states in which you are responsible for whatever you contact to do (or not do), regardless of whether you understand the contract…
In this case, however, we have all of the makings of a sensational news story: a poor widow, a man being shot in the back, and an evil large company refusing to pay off on a life insurance claim because of hepatitis C when that’s clearly not what killed the victim. Never mind that the man had “a lengthy criminal record that included drug trafficking, burglary, vandalism and public drunkenness” according to public records. Never mind that the policy was still in its conditional phase, and the company was perfectly within its rights to cancel if they had reason to believe that the policy holder was lying to them. Never mind that the contract between the man and the company required him to certify not that he believed himself to be healthy, but that (under penalty of perjury as well as the cancellation of the policy) he actually WAS healthy…
The facts of the case are that the insurance company would have cancelled the policy the moment they found out about the hepatitis C, that the policy holder wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on after making claims about his health that were not true, and no one would have bothered reporting on it – if it happened any time before the AIG scandal and all of the other events that have made the insurance industry into one of the most hated sectors in American commerce…
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Ethics of Tipping
Looking back on my time in retail reminded me of another odd recurring event: getting a tip. I’ve worked for tips a few times, mostly on even less pleasant jobs, but every so often in retail I’d help someone carry something out to their car, tie something to the roof, get an odd-shaped (or very large) purchase out the loading dock, or in one spectacularly weird case, put out an engine fire in their car, and the customer would want to give me a tip – which gave me a bit of a problem…
You see, as the Assistant Manager of the drug store, I was prohibited by corporate regulations from accepting any form of gratuity from a customer. Technically, so were the rank-and-file personnel, but since the officer responsible for enforcing those regulations was me, and there was no way I was going to call anybody making less than $8 a hour (which wasn’t much even then) on it, the only person in the store with any customer contact duties who was ever likely to face disciplinary action for accepting a tip was me. And, since a drug store never has enough line personnel to go around, the Assistant Manager is also the person most likely to take on any extra duties (like helping someone get their order loaded into their car) and thus the most likely to be offered a tip in the first place…
Of course, the larger ethical issue surrounding tips is when to offer one – and how much you should offer. On the one hand, many customer service personnel (notably waiters) are paid at below minimum wage (sometimes effectively nothing) because they are assumed to make their living on tips, and the government allows their employers to screw them out of a minimum wage on the grounds that it’s better for the business. On the other hand, we’ve all heard stories about (and most of us have experienced) people whose service was horrible who still expect a fat tip at the end of your transaction, whatever it happens to be. Some of them will get really aggressive about it, and retaliate for bad tips whenever they can…
I don’t have a lot of problems with this myself, mostly because anything egregious enough to make me want to stiff someone on a tip will also be bad enough that I’ll ask to speak with their manager and do something (potentially, at least) much worse. Or, in extreme cases, I’ll cancel my order, pay for anything I’ve actually received thus far, and walk out, never to return. If I’ve stayed all of the way through dinner without raising a stink, I’ll give somebody a base-level tip just for effort; and if they’ve made any effort at all to do a good job I’ll try to reward them for it. But that’s just me; you’ll see a similar behavior pattern in anyone who’s ever worked for tips…
The thing is, the people who object to having to leave a tip on purely financial grounds are kidding themselves. If we abolish the laws that allow employers to pay sub-minimum wages to their personnel, all that will happen is that menu prices will rise to cover the higher wages (and massive payroll tax increases), lowering the number of people who can afford to eat out and eliminating any chance these employees might have had of earning a better living. Your tip responsibility might be smaller, but the price of your dinner will be larger, and all of the same people will go on being screwed…
In the long run, businesses that take care of their employees do better than those that do not – and I could show you the research that proves it, if any of you actually cared. For myself, when I was the Assistant Manager of the drug store and someone gave me a tip I’d usually use it to buy snacks for my crew, which led to the practice of keeping a “munchies fund” in the break room, where all of the management team (including the line supervisors who reported to me and the store’s higher-level managers) contributed “found money” like tips to a fund that kept our people in cookies and chips -- which led to a measurable increase in morale whenever I was on the manager’s desk…
It’s worth thinking about…
You see, as the Assistant Manager of the drug store, I was prohibited by corporate regulations from accepting any form of gratuity from a customer. Technically, so were the rank-and-file personnel, but since the officer responsible for enforcing those regulations was me, and there was no way I was going to call anybody making less than $8 a hour (which wasn’t much even then) on it, the only person in the store with any customer contact duties who was ever likely to face disciplinary action for accepting a tip was me. And, since a drug store never has enough line personnel to go around, the Assistant Manager is also the person most likely to take on any extra duties (like helping someone get their order loaded into their car) and thus the most likely to be offered a tip in the first place…
Of course, the larger ethical issue surrounding tips is when to offer one – and how much you should offer. On the one hand, many customer service personnel (notably waiters) are paid at below minimum wage (sometimes effectively nothing) because they are assumed to make their living on tips, and the government allows their employers to screw them out of a minimum wage on the grounds that it’s better for the business. On the other hand, we’ve all heard stories about (and most of us have experienced) people whose service was horrible who still expect a fat tip at the end of your transaction, whatever it happens to be. Some of them will get really aggressive about it, and retaliate for bad tips whenever they can…
I don’t have a lot of problems with this myself, mostly because anything egregious enough to make me want to stiff someone on a tip will also be bad enough that I’ll ask to speak with their manager and do something (potentially, at least) much worse. Or, in extreme cases, I’ll cancel my order, pay for anything I’ve actually received thus far, and walk out, never to return. If I’ve stayed all of the way through dinner without raising a stink, I’ll give somebody a base-level tip just for effort; and if they’ve made any effort at all to do a good job I’ll try to reward them for it. But that’s just me; you’ll see a similar behavior pattern in anyone who’s ever worked for tips…
The thing is, the people who object to having to leave a tip on purely financial grounds are kidding themselves. If we abolish the laws that allow employers to pay sub-minimum wages to their personnel, all that will happen is that menu prices will rise to cover the higher wages (and massive payroll tax increases), lowering the number of people who can afford to eat out and eliminating any chance these employees might have had of earning a better living. Your tip responsibility might be smaller, but the price of your dinner will be larger, and all of the same people will go on being screwed…
In the long run, businesses that take care of their employees do better than those that do not – and I could show you the research that proves it, if any of you actually cared. For myself, when I was the Assistant Manager of the drug store and someone gave me a tip I’d usually use it to buy snacks for my crew, which led to the practice of keeping a “munchies fund” in the break room, where all of the management team (including the line supervisors who reported to me and the store’s higher-level managers) contributed “found money” like tips to a fund that kept our people in cookies and chips -- which led to a measurable increase in morale whenever I was on the manager’s desk…
It’s worth thinking about…
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Closing Time, Part II
The story continues:
One of my crew went over to the door to see what the problem was; as I counted out the safe, I could hear him trying to communicate with whoever was out there. Things rapidly got louder and louder, before the crewman came back over to my desk. “He wants to speak to the Manager,” he said.
I looked up from the change drawer. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
“He says he has to get something from the pharmacy – right now!” the young checker replied.
I glanced over at our pharmacy, which had its own security gate and had been locked for an hour or so, since the pharmacy closed at 9:00 and the Pharmacy Manager had gone home shortly thereafter. “Tell him the pharmacy closed at 9,” I suggested.
“I did,” my crewman replied. “He says it’s a matter of life or death; he has to have that medication now; and he wants us to unlock the pharmacy and get his meds out.”
I snorted derisively. Only the Pharmacy Manager is allowed to have the key; in theory, if I’d had a pharmacology doctorate and a narcotics license the company MIGHT have considered giving me one – but there’s no way to tell, as this had never happened. Why anyone with those credentials would consider working as an Assistant Manager for about a quarter of the pay is beyond me. I swung the safe door closed, and scrambled the dial. “All right; let’s go talk to the man,” I sighed. About once a week somebody would refuse to believe we were closed and keep knocking on our door until we told them to go away, but I couldn’t remember anybody insisting that we both open the store and open the pharmacy for their convenience.
The man outside our security gate was a large, beefy fellow with a red face, who looked angry enough to start chewing on the bars. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed,” I told him.
“What do you mean, closed?” he howled. “On television it says you’re open 24 hours!”
Company advertising at the time did emphasize that we had more 24-hour locations than any other chain in Southern California, but it had never stated that ALL of our locations were open 24 hours a day. Some customers just liked to assume that they were, because this required less effort than reading the posted “Operating Hours” sign on our door. I pointed to the sign now. “Not at this location, sir,” I replied. “We close at 10:00 every night.”
“Bulls—t!” he screamed. “Open up! I need my prescriptions!”
At this point I really had to wonder what he thought was going on. Expecting us to open the store back up especially for him would be one thing – that’s simple arrogance and entitlement, and we saw that every day. But this fellow really seemed to believe that we had closed the store – this one time! – and put up a fake hours sign and everything just to thwart his will. “Sir, the pharmacy closed an hour ago, see?” I replied, pointing to the sign (which also had the pharmacy hours). “I couldn’t let you into the pharmacy if I wanted to, I don’t have the keys.”
I can’t tell you exactly what his reply meant, because not all of it appears to have been in English. Some of it probably involved calling me and my crew names, and I’m pretty sure some of it involved threats. I turned to the young crewman standing next to me. “Did you hear all of that, Mr. Liu?” I asked.
The youth was a bit wide-eyed, but he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he confirmed.
Outside, the man was pounding on the bars, swearing and hollering about what he was going to do when he managed to break them down. “Good,” I replied. “Go and dial 911, and tell the dispatcher what this man just said. Tell them we need the police department, soonest.”
“Yes, sir!” the kid replied, and he ran to the nearest phone. I was about to start moving the remaining crew into the back room, which had another door we could lock behind us as well as access to the loading dock through the back door, when there was a flash of lights from outside and the whoop of a siren. A police car pulled up behind the man, and two officers got out and began walking toward him. It would make for a better story to tell you that there was a dramatic hand-to-hand battle, ending with a tasering or a beating, but what actually happened is the man took to his heels the moment the policemen got out of the car, and they drove off after him. We never saw him again…
One of my crew went over to the door to see what the problem was; as I counted out the safe, I could hear him trying to communicate with whoever was out there. Things rapidly got louder and louder, before the crewman came back over to my desk. “He wants to speak to the Manager,” he said.
I looked up from the change drawer. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
“He says he has to get something from the pharmacy – right now!” the young checker replied.
I glanced over at our pharmacy, which had its own security gate and had been locked for an hour or so, since the pharmacy closed at 9:00 and the Pharmacy Manager had gone home shortly thereafter. “Tell him the pharmacy closed at 9,” I suggested.
“I did,” my crewman replied. “He says it’s a matter of life or death; he has to have that medication now; and he wants us to unlock the pharmacy and get his meds out.”
I snorted derisively. Only the Pharmacy Manager is allowed to have the key; in theory, if I’d had a pharmacology doctorate and a narcotics license the company MIGHT have considered giving me one – but there’s no way to tell, as this had never happened. Why anyone with those credentials would consider working as an Assistant Manager for about a quarter of the pay is beyond me. I swung the safe door closed, and scrambled the dial. “All right; let’s go talk to the man,” I sighed. About once a week somebody would refuse to believe we were closed and keep knocking on our door until we told them to go away, but I couldn’t remember anybody insisting that we both open the store and open the pharmacy for their convenience.
The man outside our security gate was a large, beefy fellow with a red face, who looked angry enough to start chewing on the bars. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed,” I told him.
“What do you mean, closed?” he howled. “On television it says you’re open 24 hours!”
Company advertising at the time did emphasize that we had more 24-hour locations than any other chain in Southern California, but it had never stated that ALL of our locations were open 24 hours a day. Some customers just liked to assume that they were, because this required less effort than reading the posted “Operating Hours” sign on our door. I pointed to the sign now. “Not at this location, sir,” I replied. “We close at 10:00 every night.”
“Bulls—t!” he screamed. “Open up! I need my prescriptions!”
At this point I really had to wonder what he thought was going on. Expecting us to open the store back up especially for him would be one thing – that’s simple arrogance and entitlement, and we saw that every day. But this fellow really seemed to believe that we had closed the store – this one time! – and put up a fake hours sign and everything just to thwart his will. “Sir, the pharmacy closed an hour ago, see?” I replied, pointing to the sign (which also had the pharmacy hours). “I couldn’t let you into the pharmacy if I wanted to, I don’t have the keys.”
I can’t tell you exactly what his reply meant, because not all of it appears to have been in English. Some of it probably involved calling me and my crew names, and I’m pretty sure some of it involved threats. I turned to the young crewman standing next to me. “Did you hear all of that, Mr. Liu?” I asked.
The youth was a bit wide-eyed, but he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he confirmed.
Outside, the man was pounding on the bars, swearing and hollering about what he was going to do when he managed to break them down. “Good,” I replied. “Go and dial 911, and tell the dispatcher what this man just said. Tell them we need the police department, soonest.”
“Yes, sir!” the kid replied, and he ran to the nearest phone. I was about to start moving the remaining crew into the back room, which had another door we could lock behind us as well as access to the loading dock through the back door, when there was a flash of lights from outside and the whoop of a siren. A police car pulled up behind the man, and two officers got out and began walking toward him. It would make for a better story to tell you that there was a dramatic hand-to-hand battle, ending with a tasering or a beating, but what actually happened is the man took to his heels the moment the policemen got out of the car, and they drove off after him. We never saw him again…
Friday, March 6, 2009
Closing Time, Part I
I picked up the intercom phone and hit the “General Attention” button. A loud tone sounded through the public address system, causing the crew and some of our less addled customers to look up. “Attention Sav-on shoppers!” I cried, in what I hoped was a friendly tone. “It is now closing time! You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here! Please begin making your way toward the exit; our store will re-open tomorrow morning at 8:00 sharp for your shopping convenience.”
The year was 1995, and I was the Assistant Manager (sometimes called the “Front-end Manager,” “Floor Manager” or “Assistant General Manager”) of the Sav-on drug store located in Studio City, California. I’ve mentioned this job a few times in this space; I took it as a stop-gap when the cable television company I was working for during business school was purchased and my job (my entire department, in fact) was eliminated the Friday before graduation, leaving me sort of at odds and ends, with rent to pay. I spent a year in the drug store chain, applying to real companies and looking for an actual MBA job, which you don’t have to tell me is what I should already have been doing during the final months of the MBA program. It’s just that I hadn’t expected the owners to sell the company out from under me for at least a few more years (in fairness, neither had they!)…
As previously noted, it was a crappy job featuring low pay, unpleasant (and occasionally dangerous) working conditions, preposterous hours, and a wait for promotion of around six times longer than the recruiter who recruited me for the job said it would be (e.g. 12 years for promotion to General Manager, not two, and waits of 25+ years for Corporate, not 4), and I would have left sooner than I did except for two factors: the overspecialization of MBAs and devaluation of the degree had already begun, and the fact it’s difficult to devote the time to a proper job search when you’re working between 55 and 75 hours each week…
A secondary factor, it must be conceded, is that the job quite unexpectedly turned into a splendid field laboratory and practicum in both management and leadership issues, the lessons from which would serve me well when a real management job in an actual corporation finally arrived. It was also a source of continual amazement and wonder, as I confronted the general public in a front-line customer service role – and I don’t mean that in a good way…
The night in question was a typical example: despite the fact that I had been making closing time announcements at 9:30, 9:45 and 9:55 (as mandated in the Assistant Manager’s handbook) when I called for closing time, there were still about a dozen customers wandering through the aisles of the store, staring at suppositories and hair-care products as though they (the products, not the customers) had just been handed down from on high by archangels with golden wings. It was now my job to go round them up and gently suggest that since our store was closed, and our registers had gone off-line at 10:00, now might be a good time for them to toddle on home, come see us tomorrow, there’s a good customer. Most of them had ignored the announcements altogether, and were very surprised to be told that our store was closing (“don’t you stay open 24/7?”), but a few of them were quite aware of the time and the fact that we were closed, and simply expected we would make an exception for them…
After we’d convinced the last of our zombie customers that yes, they really did have to leave now, and no, I wasn’t going to keep the entire crew sitting around while they made their final $8.89 purchase, we locked the doors and began cashing out the registers and setting up for overnight conditions. It was just about then that there came a loud, frustrated shout of outrage from the front door, and someone began pounding on the security gate hard enough to make the entire building shake…
(To be continued…)
The year was 1995, and I was the Assistant Manager (sometimes called the “Front-end Manager,” “Floor Manager” or “Assistant General Manager”) of the Sav-on drug store located in Studio City, California. I’ve mentioned this job a few times in this space; I took it as a stop-gap when the cable television company I was working for during business school was purchased and my job (my entire department, in fact) was eliminated the Friday before graduation, leaving me sort of at odds and ends, with rent to pay. I spent a year in the drug store chain, applying to real companies and looking for an actual MBA job, which you don’t have to tell me is what I should already have been doing during the final months of the MBA program. It’s just that I hadn’t expected the owners to sell the company out from under me for at least a few more years (in fairness, neither had they!)…
As previously noted, it was a crappy job featuring low pay, unpleasant (and occasionally dangerous) working conditions, preposterous hours, and a wait for promotion of around six times longer than the recruiter who recruited me for the job said it would be (e.g. 12 years for promotion to General Manager, not two, and waits of 25+ years for Corporate, not 4), and I would have left sooner than I did except for two factors: the overspecialization of MBAs and devaluation of the degree had already begun, and the fact it’s difficult to devote the time to a proper job search when you’re working between 55 and 75 hours each week…
A secondary factor, it must be conceded, is that the job quite unexpectedly turned into a splendid field laboratory and practicum in both management and leadership issues, the lessons from which would serve me well when a real management job in an actual corporation finally arrived. It was also a source of continual amazement and wonder, as I confronted the general public in a front-line customer service role – and I don’t mean that in a good way…
The night in question was a typical example: despite the fact that I had been making closing time announcements at 9:30, 9:45 and 9:55 (as mandated in the Assistant Manager’s handbook) when I called for closing time, there were still about a dozen customers wandering through the aisles of the store, staring at suppositories and hair-care products as though they (the products, not the customers) had just been handed down from on high by archangels with golden wings. It was now my job to go round them up and gently suggest that since our store was closed, and our registers had gone off-line at 10:00, now might be a good time for them to toddle on home, come see us tomorrow, there’s a good customer. Most of them had ignored the announcements altogether, and were very surprised to be told that our store was closing (“don’t you stay open 24/7?”), but a few of them were quite aware of the time and the fact that we were closed, and simply expected we would make an exception for them…
After we’d convinced the last of our zombie customers that yes, they really did have to leave now, and no, I wasn’t going to keep the entire crew sitting around while they made their final $8.89 purchase, we locked the doors and began cashing out the registers and setting up for overnight conditions. It was just about then that there came a loud, frustrated shout of outrage from the front door, and someone began pounding on the security gate hard enough to make the entire building shake…
(To be continued…)
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