1. Chapter Five: Correcting Market Failure

    Posted: 27/Aug/11
    Notes: 1

    I never donate out of guilt, but there are those who do.  Some people see a street musician and drop a dollar in his hat, feeling sorry that the musician’s life has come to this and hoping that their dollar will help him find a stable job.  I do the same, but for the opposite reason.

    When I emerged from the two-and-a-half-minute escalator ride at the Bethesda metro station, I was greeted by a trio of musicians playing Coldplay’s Viva la Vida.  Their talented rendition made me smile, so I put a dollar in their hat to reward them for the service.

    A few weeks later, the Cranky CEO and I were on a New York Subway when a mariachi band suddenly boarded and began to play Guantanamera.  I love that song, and I loved that the mariachis could delight an audience of notoriously-skeptical New Yorkers.  So on my way out, I thanked them and dropped a dollar in their hat.

    I don’t want street musicians to use my money to find a stable job.  I want to give them an incentive to keep surprising me in public places.  They can only keep this up if their work is profitable, so I contribute toward their profits.

    A market failure exists when the economy provides too little or too much of a product or service; there exists a market failure in that too few mariachi bands appear on New York subways.  Textbook economics will tell you that the government should step in to correct market failure, but a dearth of Coldplay doesn’t exactly warrant government intervention.  It’s up to us as consumers to keep the street-music business profitable, if we want to hear more of it.

    Consumer Suggestion #2: If the guitar player in the corner makes you smile, and if your happiness is worth a dollar, drop one in his hat.

    Til next time— Stay cranky, but be generous.

  2. Chapter Four: Cranky Coup

    Posted: 11/Aug/11
    Notes: 23

    This chapter is about a clever consumer, not a cranky consultant.  And that clever consumer isn’t me—though I wish I could take credit for the coup.  Kudos (coup-dos?) go to the girl sitting next to me on a New York-DC Amtrak ride in July.

    We were pulling into New Carrollton, the last stop before Washington Union Station, and I returned from the bathroom to find my seatmate packing up her bags.  

    “New Carrollton is on the orange line, right?”

    “Yes, it is!”

    I grabbed my backpack and dashed out of the train before I could fully process the decision.

    Normally, I would take Amtrak to Union Station, then take the red line to Farragut North and walk to my dorm.  (Or, if the timing lined up, I could take the red line to Metro Center and then transfer to the orange line.)  Once, when the red line was particularly delayed, I took a cab—but that’s for a later post.  The point is, I never considered getting off Amtrak anywhere other than Union Station.  I knew Amtrak stopped at New Carrollton, and I knew that New Carrollton was the last stop on the orange line, but I never made the time-saving connection.  

    Thanks to the clever consumer, I took the metro from New Carrollton to Foggy Bottom, avoided an extra 20 minutes on Amtrak and saved the cab fare I would have paid to circumvent the delayed red line.  Do I hear a win-win?

    Consumer Suggestion #1:  Know your public transit system cold, and think out of the box.  You could save time, money, and frustration.

    Until next time— stay cranky, and creative!

    Tagged: Amtrak DC Metro

  3. Interlude: Amtrak Again

    Posted: 11/Aug/11
    Notes: 20

    On July 24th at 4:05pm, Amtrak was delayed—only 15 minutes according to the board at Penn Station, but over 30 minutes in reality.  I’ll post every time this happens, so readers can understand the magnitude of the problem.

    A note to the Amtrak executives: Get your act together.  A transportation service that runs late more often than not is a failure in my book.

    Tagged: Amtrak

  4. Chapter Three: Freebies

    Posted: 08/Aug/11
    Notes: 2

    Everyone loves dessert, and everyone loves free stuff.  Combine these ingredients, add a touch of pleasant surprise, and stir—you’ve just made a great business decision

    My first encounter with this delectable combination was at Top This Frozen Yogurt, the new self-serve frozen yogurt store that replaced the local Ben & Jerry’s. I was on a date with the Cranky CEO, a fellow froyo lover (for the uninitiated, froyo = frozen yogurt), and we were ready for a sweet continuation of the evening.  Lo and behold, we arrived to find the owner closing up shop—at 10pm.  (As college students, we expect all food stores to remain open until at least midnight, preferably until 2am.  Apparently the suburbs aren’t a great environment for this business model.)  With no other options for dessert, we were desperate for the owner to let us in.

    Not only did she oblige, she gave us a free pint of pumpkin froyo.  We got an excuse to extend our date, a delicious palette cleanser, and a serendipitous freebie, all in one ice-cold package; Top This got a pair of loyal customers and a mention in this blog.

    Incredibly, this wasn’t the most recent time a dessert vendor surprised me with free things.  In the East Village, I stopped into Sugar Cafe for a drink and was presented with a fre cupcake—the frosting had melted, making it too ugly to sell, but delicious enough to eat.  Sugar Cafe, like Top This, earned my appreciation and loyalty:  I’d happily pay for a second cupcake next time I’m around.

    My last tale of sugary freebies involves free ice, not ice cream, but it was no less exciting. Pinkberry gave me an ice pack when I ordered froyo to-go on a hot evening, preserving it til it reached its final destination.  FroZenYo also earns a shout-out, for graciously accepting my suggestion that they follow Pinkberry’s lead, though they didn’t have ice on hand.  I haven’t checked back to see if they took my advice, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.

    The Pinkberry and FroZenYo visits carry an important lesson:  never be afraid to ask for what you want.  You’ll either get it (a la Pinkberry), or inspire your favorite stores to improve.

    Business Suggestion #3:  Give your customers free things, spontaneously.  Some chains have made this a corporate policy, randomly selecting patrons for upgrades and rewards, but rehearsed or automated surprises lose their effect.  Let your employees use their judgment, and you’ll earn enough loyal customers to more than recover the cost of your giveaways.

    Business Suggestion #4: Listen to suggestions.  Like the FroZenYo cashier’s gracious acceptance of my ice advice, demonstrations that you care about feedback will make your customers feel immediately important.  You’ll delight them even more if you take their advice.

    Until next time—stay cranky, consumers.

  5. Chapter Two: Welcome to Amtrak

    Posted: 03/Aug/11
    Notes: 21

    DC is hot— 104 degrees Fahrenheit, to be precise.  The air is like that Jell-o swimming pool I always imagined as a kid, but less fruity, less fun, and only slightly easier to wade through.

    I arrive at Union Station carrying a purple backpack by the straps so that it wouldn’t get my back sweaty like it did two weeks ago.  At least I’ve learned something.

    The line for my train stretches from Gate E, where we’re supposed to board, to the Crumbs cupcake shop near the end of the hall.  (Crumbs has an interesting business model, to be discussed in a later post.  No time for cupcakes when there’s an Amtrak delay to chronicle.)

    The problem is, it’s 5:40, and the train isn’t scheduled to depart until 6:05.  All these poor travelers have been deluded into thinking they need to stand on line for 25 minutes when in reality, unless they’re travelling in a pack of 10 and need to sit together at all costs, they’d be fine to wait until 5:55 to get on line.  (Or at least that’s always my strategy, and it seems to work just fine— coupled with a few other sleek Amtrak tricks, it’s usually sufficient to end up with two seats to myself.)

    While all these people stand in line, I go to Au Bon Pain for a salad.  ABP has made a really silly business move— they’ve decided to sacrifice the solid quality of healthy, custom-made sandwiches and salads for a fridge full of pre-packaged items with no more appeal than the average corner deli’s offerings.  So much for equating a French name with high-end food.  They’ve abandoned that market to Le Pain Quotidien, presumably to lower costs.  ABP can’t compete with traditional fast food on price, and they can’t compete with Cosi or Panera Bread on freshness and choice.  Instead, they’re mimicking Pret A Manger: a faux-French, fast-food Frankenstein.

    With my mediocre salad in hand, I proceed to get in line for Gate E, and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  The train is delayed— so common on Amtrak that I factor an extra hour into my ETA whenever I travel.  More worrisome is the news that all trains between New York and Boston had been cancelled, and that our tracks have supposedly expanded in the record-breaking heat.

    An Amtrak representative tells me we’ll probably make it out that night. Interpreting this as a best case scenario, I start making plans for a weekend stuck in DC.

    Amtrak’s key failing—beyond the delays themselves, which are inexcusable—is their incompetence in communicating with travelers when delays occur.  If I had a straight answer—“There are engine problems, but we’re working to resolve them and you should expect to leave within an hour”—I would sit down for a cup of coffee and patiently read Katherine Graham’s autobiography.  But with a blatant lie about expanding tracks and no time estimate to speak of, I’m antsy, confused, and ready to return my ticket.  An hour delay isn’t so severe, but the hour I spend worried that I’ll never make it to New York deteriorates my (already minimal) trust in the company.

    Business Suggestion #1:  Tell your customers the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

    Business Suggestion #2:  If you’ve built your brand on quality (a la Au Bon Pain), a sudden strategy switch from quality to conveniece will upset your existing customer base.

    Until next time—stay cranky, consumers.