Part Math, Part Magic

John Friel

It’s impressive, but also alarming, how many things can be reduced to a science.

Functions we’ve always considered exclusively human—playing chess, performing surgery, sticking cuttings—are increasingly accomplished with startling adequacy by machines. I prefer things that defy algorithms.

I recently heard an NPR program on service and hospitality at restaurants. I hear you: your garden center, even if it contains a cafe, is not a restaurant. Point taken. There are obvious differences; a sparrow or a cat is welcome in one, not the other. GCs are more relaxed and have better lighting. And unlike a deli takeout, your BLT—Begonias, Lilies and Tiarella—must keep feeding their need long after they’ve left, like a bottomless doggie bag.

But are there similarities as well? Oh, heck yes.

Like a restaurant, an independent GC can—and must—build a core audience of consumers whose default venue is you. Repeat business is built on familiarity, comfort and trust.

Like a restaurant, a GC can—and does—lose good customers by failing to meet some expectation, fair or unfair, stated or implied, on the first, second or 20th visit.

Whether you’re serving nourishment for the body or the soul, it’s how you treat customers that determines whether they return.

Back to NPR … They interviewed restaurant patrons and owners, and among the questions was, “What is the difference between service and hospitality?” The definition that stuck with me was this: Service, someone replied, is black and white. Hospitality is color.

As I interpret that, decent service can be rendered pretty scientific, almost mechanical. Service is science, hospitality art—the art of making people feel welcomed, valued, important.

It’s pretty black and white that you can drill your front line CS staff on basics: greeting new arrivals, knowing the product, looking and sounding professional. All that can and should be down in B&W, like the parts of your business that customers don’t even think about—are floors and bathrooms clean? Are the aisles wide enough, the signage clear enough, the parking lot navigable? That stuff—more science than art—only gets noticed if it’s lacking.

When you get past the basics, the color becomes vital. Hospitality is the above-and-beyond element: Remembering customers’ names, knowing what they like and don’t, taking time to listen, being handy when they want you without hovering like a gnat while they’re browsing contentedly. That’s more art than science and harder to teach.

Service devoid of hospitality is black and white—a coloring book waiting to have its pages filled in. The picture is there, but color brings it to life.

For whatever reason, I prefer the art/color stuff, i.e., I lean toward the non-mathematical side of this equation. Despite my English major background, I’m actually pretty good at math; I just don’t like it much.

But we need both art and science, lines and color. By all means, plug in the algorithms. Measure your aisles, plot your product placements, dissect the demographics, crunch those numbers.

But our products are living things, prone to unpredictable flaws—pests, diseases, stresses often beyond the retailer’s control. And our customers are human beings, prone to unpredictable whims that may or may not spring from anything you did or didn’t do.

The making of gardens, gardeners and great garden centers is not a linear, predictable process. When things get weird, can you trust—and empower—your CS folks to color outside the lines? It could save you a customer.

Sudoku? No, thanks. Pass the crossword, please. Or the coloring book. GP

John Friel is marketing manager for Emerald Coast Growers and a freelance writer.