Start by cheering up the customer

Starting out right

David Zinger posted a nice overview of his time with impromaster Keith Johnstone. There's a lot worth reading there, but I was especially struck by one side note:

Start by cheering up the audience.

Now, replace "audience" by "customer" (that's one of my favourite hobbies), and we have some powerful medicine. If you set out to start every contact by "cheering up" your customer, you will automatically find yourself:

... being present in the moment.
If you are fully tuned in to the customer's feelings here and now, I promise you will not find yourself thinking about the stack of 27B-6 forms waiting on your desk.

... empathising with the customer's expectations.
A customer comes to you with a particular emotion based on what they think is going to happen next. To cheer them up, you are going to have to read - and beat - that expectation.

... caring about first impressions made by your site, location or appearance.
Everyone knows that first and last impressions are crucial. How do your physical surroundings (colour, light, signage, access) contribute to cheering up the next customer?

... being human.
True smiles can only work over a true person-to-person connection. Humour is the same. Without giving at least a glimpse of the person you are, you are not going to spread cheer. So be yourself - you might enjoy it.!

So, here's a challenge: cheer up some customers as soon as you meet them today.

And here's another: cheer them up even more as they take their leave.

Happy face shot by litanmore at flickr

Using elevators to impress

Giving captive audiences a lift...

Elevators (or "lifts", if you're a BritSpeaker like me) are massively underused resources. Even in these days of fitness awareness, if your building has a people-lifter it will see a lot of use. And people in elevators are a captive audience.

So why not show how cool you are by entertaining them, like in this wonderful elevator artwork by Marcello Brambilla for the Standard Hotel in New York?

- tell a story.

Staging one consistent customer story

Watching from the wings

Before a show or presentation, you will usually find me waaaay up in the lighting rig, hanging precariously from a gantry and peering at the top of the audience's heads. This is not just to hype myself up (although it is very focussing), or convince myself that my hairline is receding slower than many. Instead, I am trying to feel the vibe, and predict how the show will need to be tonight.

In his book The Invisible Actor, master actor Oida Yoshi (called Yoshi Oida in the West) says:

"Too often actors sit in their dressing rooms or the green room, listening to the tannoy for their cues. Once they hear the stage manager call their names, they go up into the wings, ready to make their entrance. [This] is completely unhelpful in terms of good storytelling. There is only one story being told by a team of actors; not ten different stories being told by ten actors. Therefore, you need to be there in the wings from the very beginning, in order to see how other actors are telling the story".

Anyone staging a customer experience is faced by the very same problem. And remember, the "actors" in a customer experience are not just the staff, but also the customers. So ask yourself:

• What opportunity do my staff have to see how "the story" of our daily business is going, enabling them to start in with the appropriate energy and preparation?

• What opportunity do my staff have to learn how "the story" of this particular customer's encounter with us is going, helping them to take over with the appropriate energy and preparation?

And even:

• How do I let my customer see how far along we are in his "story"? Does he have the feeling af a beginning, a middle and an end? Or, better yet, a hook, exposition, climax and resolution?

Stage wings pic from pimpampum at flickr

Wacky-pack-attack

And why not?

Choosenick put me onto this wonderful little clip:



Of course, it's a gag - but comedy is always made of truth and pain. (The truth here is that we want to celebrate our cool new toy, the pain is that we can't.) So: why not?

Everything up to the point where the guy presses the red button is possible.

So why not take it that far? Then... holographic chorus girls are tricky just now, but there are a bunch of cheap and cheesy fun effects which could replace them.

What about the little melody chips you get in birthday cards? They could play an appropriately quirky tune, celebrating the purchase (no corporate jingles, please!).

How about the tiny voice recording chips I've seen? Why not hear a pre-recorded message from your guy at the store saying "Hi Adam, this is Gary. Thanks for buying this phone - if you have any problems setting it up, call me on my direct number...."

What about the clever techniques you see in modern pop-up books?

What about a little light show with supercheap LEDs? Or a smoke bomb and laser projection on your ceiling...

Erm, well, maybe the lasers are still sci-fi, but you get the point.

Whatever the gimmick is, two things would be important:

1) The manufacturer must realise it's just a gimmick, and keep it fun.
2) It must be replayable, so you can show all your friends...

Experience design e-book

It's time for a small celebration...

Today, the 2,000th reader downloaded my mini-ebook, which lists some showbiz tools that anyone can use to impress customers. Thanks, folks!

If you've not taken a look yet, you can download the book here (or via the link in the left column). Just 20 pages, and it's free!

My second e-book - The Experience Director - is still in the works. Watch this space...

2000 image by Leo Reynolds at flickr

Architecture as experience

"Architecture is great cinema!"

Quote of the week this - erm - month, is from Friend-of-Brad Thomas Willemeit of hip Berlin-LA-Beijing architects Graft.

“I have always enjoyed asking myself how we can describe a home not just as a organisational floor-plan, but by describing how we experience it. When I enter a dwelling, I have certain atmospheres one after the other - sequences of light and shade, of narrowness and space. There is a scenography, a dramatic structure for the space. Architecture is great cinema.

We design buildings like films, whose power lies in leading us through worlds and catching hold of our emotions.”

“We felt the poetic, narrative aspect of architecture. Where does the architecture trick us? Where does it lead us astray, like a stage set?”

(From an article in GQ Germany, February 2008).

Architects are among the most experience-aware designers, probably because you cannot take in their work all at once, and they are forced to consider the timing aspect. Remember, once design has a time component, it becomes experience...

More for architects here...

Translation by me, image from the GQ online article.

You're only supposed to blow the bl**dy doors off!

Sir Michael Caine on experience design

I'm reading the autobiography of one of my favourite actors, and it turns out he is also a restaurant owner with some snappy ideas on experience design. From the conceptual:

"A restaurant should be like a show where you are the star when you come in, and the audience when you sit down."

To the practical:

"You should never be able to see a lightbulb."

You get your money's worth with Sir Michael.

PS There's a prize for the first reader to recognise the quote that titles this post. My money is on Andy Nulman. At the very least, he should like the picture. ;)

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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.

Work•Play•Experience: get the book

My e-book is ready to download

Twelve show business tools for your business:

• Storyboarding
• Showing hidden values
• Prequels and sequels
• Depth and meaning
  
• Stagebuilding
• Backstage
• Light
• Costume
• Rehearsal
• Getting the lines right
• Letting stars be stars
• Timing

Download the 20 pages here. It's free.

All comments and feedback gratefully received...
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Stepping between worlds

Stage design and store entrances

How should you arrange your doorway or entrance, to make customers step inside - or feel they want to? You have two main choices, and to understand them we need a little bit of - you guessed it - theater theory.

In the theater, we usually talk about two main types of stage – the proscenium stage and the thrust (or "apron") stage.

A thrust stage is a stage that juts out into the audience area - your Milan fashion catwalk is an extreme example. They have been around for a long time, and arch-luvvie Bill Shakespeare used them every day. For actors, they are great - you can go deep into the audience, talk to individual punters, make very natural “asides”, and literally share the audience's point of view of the rest of the action. This is why many actors love thrust stages – your contact to the audience is very direct indeed.

A proscenium stage is that “typical” type of stage which has a straight, relatively high front edge and a big archway over the front (think, “Punch and Judy”, think “red curtain”). They have been around since the 17th century and promote a strong feeling of separation from the audience – sitting in your seat in the darkness you feel you are looking into another world. That big, heavy proscenium arch acts as a mighty metaphorical barrier which gets turtle-necked theatrical types clutching their brows and pronouncing on “fourth walls”.

The crucial factor here is the way the physical layout of the stage and the boundary between stage and audience encourages – or discourages – us to cross the line and interact with the other side.

Our first type of stage, the thrust design, builds a weak barrier between stage and audience, one we cross willingly. The stage starts low, reaches towards us, builds slowly in height, and is mostly open to the sky – we might say it is literally “laid back”. This thrust shape is ideal for locations which need people to wander in – like many retail sites.

So, to use the apron effect in your retail site , you start low by using a long, low front step or a carpet on the sidewalk. Stepping onto the carpet or step, your customer is psychologically partly inside the store. Soon they find themselves surrounded by your stuff, whether it be pot plants or products displays. Remember to start low and build in height, and remember that whatever is outside the store (carpet, mannequins) should continue inside it – and that means the same colour carpet, the same style of displays.

We are trying to make the moment of stepping through the doorway into a non-event, so the customer finds himself or herself inside the store. The ceiling must close over our head as late as possible, and should have no heavy lintel pressing down on the customer – if your location has one, drape light-coloured cloth from outside to inside, softening the effect.

The proscenium model – a heavy, almost forward-leaning entrance – can bully and intimidate, and you should avoid it like you avoid bad Belgian dance theater if you are trying to tempt in casual shoppers. That weighty, brooding archway and the vertical orientation of the whole thing build a powerful psychological barrier.

But it would be wrong to think that this type of entrance is useless. No indeed. Back in the fourth paragraph (remember the fourth paragraph?) we said that proscenium stages are really good at separating two worlds. If your offering is an escapist one, and if your public has already been sold on the idea of visiting you, then a big impressive proscenium entrance might be just what you need to let them know they are leaving the real world behind, and get them really looking forward to the experience in those last few hundred steps. Alternatively, it could make confident customers curious to find out what is behind. So for a nightclub, spa, sports location, park, or a really hot boutique, this might be the look to go for.

Make the entrance high and overhanging and have it stand physically forward. If you can’t afford a builder, you can do a lot with curtains, flags, roll-ups, flames, and that criss-cross scaffolding you see holding up the lights at rock concerts.

Whether you choose the laid-back apron model, or the imposing proscenium design, remember that the next thing your customers see should be a hot highlight, deeper inside the location...

PS for UX folks. This applies equally well to website design. Think about these forms and ask yourself - how would you design a site that is an imposing "proscenium" gateway into an exclusive world? Or one that has the user gently "finding himself" going deeper into the site, almost without noticing it..?

Doors of Perception

Entrances and exits in culinary experiences

If you've seen the Kenneth Branagh film of Henry V, you might remember the young King's first entrance. He enters, clad in a huge cloak and crown, through a pair of high double doors and backed by a blinding corona of white light. It is like the second coming.

When Judi Dench, playing Mistress Golightly, saw the shot, she is supposed to have said "My God, what an entrance. Who do you think you are?" Flustered and probably feeling very young in the presence of a Grande Dame of British theater, Branagh allegedly replied, "Well, it's not called Mistress Golightly the fifth!"

I was reminded of this recently when I was doing a show in the function room of a top class hotel. Of course, most function rooms have a kitchen or service station located just next door. After all, it makes sense to have the culinary resources close by.

Now, the problem here is one of entrances and exits, and especially of lighting. Those top-class function rooms have usually been expensively illuminated with crystal chandeliers, candles and subtle indirect lamps - while the kitchens are lit with bright white striplights.

The result? When the Star Trek kitchen doors open, every eye is drawn to them (we look to the light - a fundamental law of experience design) and we see... Klaus the Underwaiter, backlit in his majesty like Harry V. And behind him? Piles of dirty plates, flustered waiters, buckets of food waste and the sous-chef screaming at the saucier.

In creating atmosphere, nothing is more important than light. And nothing kills atmosphere faster than cold, hard, white light, especially when it draws our attention to the machinery of the show.

Of course, waiters are in a difficult place, as they have to switch constantly between showmanship, and being invisible. Nevertheless, the problem here is, well, glaring.

The first step would be to get rid of that intrusive light, either by installing more doors or baffles (wings, anyone?) or by simply changing the dang lighting strip to something warmer.

The second, more exciting step, would be to use the grand entrance effect, and decide which moments deserve the Henry V treatment. Imagine the lights going up and the whole waiting staff marching in in unison with the magnificent main course under silver covers... You could add (flavourless) smoke and a fanfare if you wanted.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Why, just the best damn supper in town."

Even amateurs can get it...

Great experience design in a small German town...

I recently did a gig at the Haunted House in Coburg, Bavaria.

It's a tiny theater location, run by a group of friends for the fun of it. Located in an imposing 1800s house in beautiful Coburg, the team have used their own creativity and passion to create an experience design that just might be one of the best in Germany.

Opening the front door, you step into - not a hallway, but a moonlit "garden". White-sprayed branches brush your face, a pale moon is painted on the wall, and by her cold light you see a black cat bristling in a corner. Through the next door, and into a parlour decorated with cast-off furniture and faux cobwebs. Ah, there's the bar, but where is the exit? Eventually you figure it out, and step through the wardrobe into the next room, where a dark lady lies beneath red velvet in a four poster bed. Her white sister prefers to rest in the cool satin lining of a coffin...

The organisers have begged, borrowed and built furniture, shop dummies and clothing to create a wonderful walk-through ghost train, making a real feature of the small rooms that their visitors must pass through before reaching the "theater" (it's decorated too, with a graveyard and Jack the Ripper mementos). Everything is well done - but with an openly amateur flair, and the visitor starts his evening of spooky theater fun thinking "what wonderful people!"

Truly, an inspired location offering an immediately engaging experience! And all because of the enthusiasm of a handful of amateurs...

Adam

PS it looks like the Haunted House might be closing. (I have a feeling that the permission to use the building was temporary). Here's hoping for a new location and an equally succesful experience design!