People lust after all kinds of things: cars, airplanes, fancy gnomes, or decorative spoons. We all have our thing. For the last 25 years, I’ve lusted after a shotgun (think Ralphie from A Christmas Story). Not just any shotgun: the Beretta A400 Xtreme Plus. It’s the grandson of a weapon I used many years ago called the “Xtrema.” This steel beauty shoots everything from target rounds to heavy waterfowl loads. The recoil feels like shooting a BB gun and it’s light as a feather. In other words, it’s a dream. It also costs $2000 and is a wildly impractical purchase.
Sometimes, pragmatism can (and should) take a backseat to good old-fashioned “shiny object syndrome.” I was in that kind of mood the other week when I finally clicked “buy” on the Green Top sporting goods website. I can’t even describe how excited I was, letting the anticipation build until I (finally) got the email saying my new shotgun was ready for pickup. Those 48 hours felt like an eternity.
I drove to the store, fizzing with excitement and shivering with anticipation as I walked through the front doors. I followed the signage to the back of the store, where a dour employee guided me through the paperwork. I was happy to comply. Anything that slows down a bad guy is fine by me.
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Then came the moment. My grumpy new single-serving friend placed a box in front of me and opened it for inspection.
I was crestfallen.
There it was — my $2000 dream shotgun — packed in a cheap, brown cardboard box. No molded plastic. No proper takedown case. Just parts rattling around like an afterthought.
Most shotguns ship (and are ideally stored) disassembled (taken down), with the barrel, forend, stock, and receiver assembly compartmentalized. This one came with an extension for the buttstock, a few spacers to adjust the fit, and some chokes to modify the shot pattern. I was left wondering where the hell I was supposed to put all these loose parts.
I had little choice but to buy a soft canvas case from the store (another $70 spent).
The whole time, I kept thinking: “This is a $2000 shotgun. Why on earth wouldn’t it come in a proper case?” There was a little blurb on the box about being environmentally friendly, which I respect. But they could have just as easily made a case out of recycled plastic and achieved the same result. The final insult came when I got home and read the user manual.
Beretta’s official storage guidance? “Store the shotgun in its disassembled state in the provided case.” The cardboard box?! It dawned on me that Beretta had obviously stopped including a real case but never updated its user manual. So, I emailed Beretta support and asked about it.
“Oh yes, we stopped including the case years ago,” replied their support representative. When I asked if they planned to update the manual, they told me: “Well, you can buy a $137 plastic case. It’s backordered until February — or you can just store it in the cardboard box.”
At that moment, I realized what a missed opportunity this was. In my business, this would be the perfect chance to create a raving fan, turning an annoyed customer into a lifelong advocate. If Beretta had simply sent me a case to shut me up, I’d be telling all my friends what incredible customer service they have. Instead, I’m stuck fixating on the fact that my $2000 shotgun didn’t come with a proper case.
Don’t get me wrong. The shotgun itself is amazing. It shoots like a dream and is everything I hoped it would be. But that one little misstep left a blemish on an otherwise stellar experience.
This got me thinking about our businesses. In many ways, we’re just like Beretta. CI companies have strong brands and solid reputations. By the time a customer decides to engage with us, they’re usually at a 9 or above in terms of how they perceive us, or they wouldn’t be doing business with us. Somebody told them we were great. Somebody had an amazing experience and referred us. Maybe they saw content online that made them excited. Either way, they’re walking through our door eager for whatever’s next — just like I was at Green Top that fateful day.
It’s our job to preserve and enhance customer excitement. If we drop the ball; if we give them a cardboard box when they expect a proper case, we are stealing defeat from the jaws of victory.
So, I ask myself and I ask you: Where in our businesses are we substituting cardboard boxes when we should be offering proper takedown cases?
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I’ll be doing an audit of sales, installation, project management, marketing, and more to find areas where we might be cutting corners. This is where we’ll certainly mine opportunities to create raving fans instead of committing unforced errors. I expect I’ll find at least one or two areas where we can improve.
What about you? Where can you eliminate the “cardboard boxes” in your business?
Stay frosty. See you in the field.
