Tougher stuff for airlines

But who'll do it first?

As I near the end of my Dominica trip, I dig down through my holiday drawers and see the big fat chunky sweater that I brought halfway across the planet simply "in case it's cold when I land back at home".

I'll by flying back from (endless) summer into (early) autumn this time, so the temperature change won't be so pronounced: But what about the folks making winter/summer trips, who are forced to transport a whole set of warm clothes (and coat, and boots, and woolly hat) into the tropics so they don't die of exposure on the short journey from home to airport? Warm clothes that are simply taking up luggage space and sitting in a drawer through the whole sun-kissed holiday.

Craziness, no?

So who will be the first airline to let me change out of my winter clothes in the plane (or at either airport), put them in a box, and take good care of them for me until the return flight back to my freezing home?

(Or who will be the first airport service provider to offer the same facility?)

Sure, there are other ideas that are easier to organise - there are certainly logistics and security issues here - but I'd shower kisses and loyalty on the first provider who can save me that half a suitcase...

Suitcase and boots shot from metrognome0 at flickr

Unexpected... and thus authentic

Avoiding the cliché

I was flicking through my review copy (thanks Joe! - I'll review as soon as I possibly can) of Pine & Gilmore's "Authenticity", and I got to thinking about authentic places.

I've written now and again about why I prefer Dominica to other Caribbean islands I have visited - Antigua and Martinique, for example. A lot of my love for the place comes from its unspoiled character, from the pioneering feeling you get from being one of very few tourists, and from it's non-sanitised atmosphere. (Yes, it can pong a bit.)

Another reason that strikes me is that Dominica is not like you expect. We all have a vision of "Caribbean" in our heads, comprised in varying measures of beaches, cricket, rum, Bob Marley and Jack Sparrow. When you arrive there for the first time, you find Dominica looks very little like that. "Hey," you think, "this isn't like the catalogues - it must be the real thing!"

This Heineken ad (a very popular beer in Dominica, though I prefer the local Kubuli) hits the nail on the head.

Avoid the cliché, if you want to be authentic.

Fishermen picture by the author. Ooo!

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Comedy smooths conflict

Classroom tips for all

So, I'm visiting the primary school at Mahaut, and listening in on a young teacher with her class. It's a scorching hot day and despite her lively presentation style the pupils are slouching at their desks.

Young Teacher has two options:
1. Yell at them to sit up straight (expected result: grudging compliance, and the kids think she is a slave driver).
2. Give them a cheery suggestion of the "hey kids, let's all stand up and shake out the tiredness" variety (expected result: the kids do it, but roll their eyes, and think she is a dweeb).

Of course, like the young Tony Blair she finds a Third Way.

She gives a huge yawn, and cries "OH! I am SO tired!" Surprised, the kids all look up. "Oh! I can hardly stand," she continues. "I have to sit down!" As she staggers theatrically to a stool, the kids start to smile. The smiles turn to laughter as - bump! - her head hits the desk. And when the snoring starts, pure hysteria reigns (hey, they are seven years old). Then - another yawn, and she starts to stretch, to stand, to straighten up. Of course, the kids are right there with her - stretching, wide awake, and thoroughly impressed by their new teacher.

Good NLP, good psychology, good comedy, good job.

Or, as the kids on Dominica say, "Faaaan-tastic!"



PS Young Teacher is the lady jumping highest in this video. Her colleague on the right had just had a flood-bourne boulder take out her classroom. More on the blond lady and her work at show-me-wow.com.

Earned experiences feel authentic

Heaven is hard work

One of the things that makes - and keeps - Dominica special is that it is a pig to get here. There is no international airport (yet*), so you are forced to island-hop. For us Europeans, it's two days with an overnight hotel stop, multiple borders, wads of forms and all the usual travel unpleasantness. Blurgh.

Of course, when you finally get here it feels even more special because it was hard work. You feel terribly intrepid, and can scoff at the "tourists" who get off the cruise boats for six hours of faked-up Dominica on a Tuesday afternoon.

And that very feeling can cause you to do silly things - like me this evening.

Having spent the day down in the capital, I had three possible ways to get home up the mountain:
1) jump in a taxi-bus and pay five bucks (EC) for the twenty minute ride;
2) hop in the back of a Rasta-driven pick-up and bounce home in a holy haze of ganja at the cost of a few bruised ribs;
3) or, call Q, the long-suffering (and wonderful) Stepdad, and get picked up in style.

Of course, I chose Option 4. Walk.

Now, it's only about four miles up the hill, but it is almost vertical, pitch dark, and terrifyingly precipitous. Substantial stretches of the road are washed out - or at least ankle-breakingly uneven - and most of the strangers you meet on the darkest, loneliest corners are frightfully polite fellows who openly carry knives as long as your arm.

And of course, it was wonderful.

I arrived at the top an hour and a half later, soaked to the skin with sweat. I had taken off the shirt after the first mile - the cataclysmic white flash no doubt causing several ships to run aground. I was sporting two prize blisters on my feet, and grinning like a loony. My family have been here almost two years, but I doubt they have ever experienced "their" road like I did: dancing fireflies, agutis in the undergrowth, glimpses of parties down side roads, the lyrical sound of domestic disputes through open windows, late-night hymns carried on the sultry air, teenagers trying to sell me stuff which they really shouldn't be selling, night birds hooting, and a million billion dwillion stars splashed across the sky. Brilliant.

Now, another traveller could have come up in a taxi, walked about for a bit in the dark, and got many of the same impressions. He would probably have enjoyed himself no end. But not as much as I did.

If we feel we have worked for an experience, we enjoy it more. That is hardly an new insight. But it occurred to me tonight that an earned experience is not just more satisfying, it also feels more authentic, feels more real. And if Messrs Pine and Gilmore are right, the Next Big Thing that customers want is authenticity.

So, how can you make customers think they have earned an experience? A tip: putting the price up is not the only answer - or the best one.

Moonlight photo by jackhynes at flickr
Slender loris by Joachim S Müller at flickr
(I know there are no lori on Dominica. Just testing.)

(* Incidentally, most Dominicans are crying out for that international airport. When they get one, they will lose a major part of their uniqueness. If they are not very careful, they will end up competing on price like all the rest of Disneyland-Caribbean, instead of turning Domenica into the premium destination it should be. Sigh. It's not their fault. People living in a shortage economy do not understand what a USP is...)

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Green magic

Using colour to draw people inside

I was leaping about in the rainforest today (I'm in Dominica again), and ended up taking a detour which left me standing on a moss-covered rock in a deep ravine. The emerald stream was splashing around my feet, the vibrant green jungle was above and all around me, and a hummingbird flew past my head as the rain began to fall. Wow.

In terms of colour, it was the greenest moment of my life.

A living green is a powerful colour, as it suggests refuge, peace and refreshment. We are drawn to it, as the pictures on the right show. Who could resist stepping through these doors?

When planning the physical part of a customer experience, we need to set highlights at carefully chosen intervals. Some of these might be what Disney call "wienies" - things that we glimpse from afar and which draw us in. Others might be areas of quiet reflection or refuge. The living green of plants can fulfil both these functions.

If you want to draw people into your location, place a powerful display of greenery (human size, if possible) where they can glimpse it from the entrance - but not see it in it's entirety. You are trying to suggest a secret garden, or a hint of paradise. Light it brightly with sun-coloured light and keep it glowingly healthy.

Or, for a relaxed moment in the experience curve of a large location, create a leafy place to rest - and adding water if possible.

You will be amazed by the power of green.


PS A pocket-sized alternative for smaller locations can be a well maintained, thickly planted and brightly lit aquarium...


P.P.S. I saw this effect vividly after hours at a recent trade show. The Degussa stand had a central staircase leading up to the hospitality area. It was decorated with ferns and looked incredibly inviting - especially with the "landing lights" on the ceiling drawing the eye inwards, and the staircase spiralling up out of sight. This lousy picture (on the left) shows the stand, but you will have to look hard to find the green - I snapped it just after the cleaning lady turned out the light... sigh!

Garden pics by siegmar sommer, tahoe sunsets and wok at flickr.

Star performers

Personality-driven Experiences

Driving down the road between Roseau and Champagne, Dominica, you are likely to encounter a mighty personality.

Marvina is a successful local entrepreneur who has built up a business ("Marvina's" bar) largely on the basis of her own character. The location seems less than ideal - it's an isolated, narrow strip of land between the road and the sea,. There is no beach, no other buildings nearby, and there are far more "interesting" locations (a snorkelling beach, a fishing village) a couple of kilometers in each direction.

But it is precisely this isolation which makes the location work for Marvina - a natural star, she is able to fill all that space with her own presence. Nearly every car that drives by is greeted with a booming "Hey!". Inevitably, many stop - sooner or later. As a natural part of the ensuing conversation, she will find out your name and offer you a drink. You sit down, take a sip, and - click - you are a regular. Before you know it, Marvina will have laughingly introduced you to members of her family, advised you sternly on the snorkelling conditions and serenaded you with a sentimental gospel or two. You may find yourself helping to hang up some fairy lights or moving a heavy cooler, and you'll certainly be promising to come back soon.

Marvina's bar is not built any differently from many others on the Island. It is welcoming, but simple. After all, it needs do little more than provide her with a "stage". You don't go there for the architecture, or even for the (excellent) rum punch. You go there to hang out with - and be part of - Marvina's crowd.

(Marvina's strong personality works for her outside her home territory too. In her oft-repeated TV interview she wears a natty hat, tells the world how wonderful the Prime Minister is at keeping his word, and thanks him profusely for promising to help her build her deck. Get out of that one, Mr Skerrit.)

Marvina's bar is going to be a success. It would work equally well if she were managing it for someone else - as long as that person were brave enough to let her be the star. Some experiences can be carried by a strong personality - if it's the right one, and if it is given room to work. If you have a Marvina on your crew, let her sing!

(I'll have a Video Blog on Marvina's bar available soon. Watch this space.)

The buck stops... where?

Clear start and stop signals in experience design

One of the real highlights of the recent Dominica trip was certainly the Aerial Tram ride. This is truly a world class attraction, though it suffers very badly from hiding its value - a theme which I discussed in a post just before going there. (On hearing the price, we almost walked away - not realising what a great experience we would be getting for the US$63.) But that's not (as Arlo Guthrie said) what I came to tell you about.

What bugged me a little about the otherwise excellent tram set-up was the carpark. This is the (tree-)top eco-attraction on "the nature island" - but it seems no-one told the bus drivers what that means. They were all great guys and true service professionals, but they would wait for the customers with radios blaring, air conditioning on and engines running - visibly to the dismay of many green-minded visitors.

The question here is, does an Aerial Tram customer see the carpark as part of the "tram territory" or not? Does the drivers' behaviour detract from the eco-feeling? In this case, it certainly did - as the car park was styled and signposted just like the rest of the tram experience.

Now, the guys at the tram company will have to talk to those drivers - or move their signposts back behind the carpark. I hope they choose the former, as I am sure the drivers will be happy to help.

If there are things nearby your offering which do not "fit", then try to change them. Just ask! If they are out of your control, and you cannot move, make sure that the customer sees the borderline. A sign (or better, a ceremony) to welcome the customer, and another to wave them off, is not only good narrative structure, it is also a great way to separate your offering from the "noise" next door.

(I'll have a Video Blog on the Aerial Tram ride available soon. Watch this space.)

Showing hidden values

The making of...

I was up at Dominica's Syndicate Trail a couple of days ago, looking for the famous Parrots Of The Caribbean (sorry).

It's a great little trail - part of a Unesco heritage site - and I noticed that the visitors' centre was fitted out with ecologically-sound solar panels. Now, such technology is a major investment here, yet there was nothing to draw the guest's attention to this feature. It got me thinking about one of the staples of good experience design - the principle of revealing hidden values.

Imagine a visit to the dentist. She scratches around in your mouth for a few minutes, drills a bit, fills the hole, and charges you a couple of hundred bucks. Ow! The pain in your wallet is worse than your aching gums!

Would it take away some of the financial sting if you knew that the chair you are sitting in cost $5000, that the dentist trained for four years at a top school, and that in the next room two highly trained technicians were working on your filling mix? Perhaps the dentist can – discretely – show off some of these hidden values. What about a glass wall between the waiting room and the lab where all the fancy equipment is working away? What about some information on how dentists are made? And what about introducing you to the whole expert team – in person or as photos?

People are genuinely interested in what goes on behind the scenes (why else do we watch so many “making of” documentaries?). Luckily, this gives you a chance to show off those hidden values. So, think about ways that you can tell your customer what they are really getting for their money, and how you can modestly show off your own qualifications, history and investment.

After all, we are all happier paying more, if we understand what lies behind our (parrot's) bill.