customer service cruising style

When did I become old enough to think that sitting on a boat with 2000 people might be fun?

Each year in March - not coincidentally the same month we married - Frank and I head out for a vacation. The range has been from Snowbird to Santa Fe, from Quebec to the BVI. This year, Carnival came calling, luring me from Anchorage to Mexico.

I was cold the entire time. Prepared for sultry temps, I packed only sandals with shorts, t-shirts and some travel knits that qualified for formal dining room attire. I yearned for my jeans and long sleeved shirts until the right turn into the gift shop for a fifty buck sweatshirt emblazoned - in silver - with Carnival on my back.

But it wasn't the weather that really bothered me. In fact, us northern folks turn rather crispy in the sun. It's just that you feel so damned old covered up in your beach towel surrounded by spring-break-bikinis. Ahhh...youth.

Let's face it. I am a cruising neophyte. (Who knew there was a cocktail party for seasoned cruisers? The people we ate dinner with could discuss not only destinations but the differences in the ships they had cruised on...) There was the "Disneyland Factor." I wandered about the ship looking for something to dislike with eyes agape and couldn't find it. (Well, maybe the photographers trying to snap a memory for Frank and I to put over our mantel got annoying but only because I have never seen a good picture of myself.)

I know all this sounds like complaining, but the truth is I loved my big ship cruise. I loved the clean - I mean super-clean - sheets and fluffy comforter. I loved chocolates on my pillow, the towels shaped into cute animals each night, and the continuous offering of food from every country. (Even with the upper decks calling, what's not to like about free 24 hour room service?) I loved seeing Cabo and shopping in Ensanada. I loved unlimited ice cream cones in the casual dining room. More than anything, I loved the smiling service. Everywhere.

So no point here except an easy one. I am a sucker for a friendly smiling face reassuring me that there is nothing to do except relax. Once I moved passed the stress of being cared for, even in a very pedestrian Carnival cruise ship kind of way, I was fine. So let's toast the masters of customer service everywhere - and make sure there is an umbrella in the drink when we do!

It's not about the coffee

I was talking to Dr. Bob yesterday and he reminded me of the Starbucks anthem titled "It's Not About the Coffee." The small book (a quick read) got buried in my library so I pulled it out again. I was delighted that the theme of the book echoes the VIP mantra "Build people. Build profit."

We need to be optimistic to realize our vision in challenging economic times. The Starbucks story is a tumultuous one. In spite of the "we the people of Starbucks" declaration of team dedication, their stock has declined this year. Critics love to comment on overpricing, long lines and dirty tables. You can find any variety of coffee drinks at your 7-11 and MacDonald's now. But let's face it...when you have to have a Starbucks, you have to have a Starbucks. You've grown accustomed to the tatooed cashier and your vanilla macchiato.

The company knows they have a great product. They have great store placement - even in China. So what gives? Where are the profits?

They seem to think it's with their team on the front lines. Starbucks made big news a few weeks ago when they closed their stores for training. Now, it's too soon to tell if this will result in a profit turnaround, but it makes a great story and if the tactic succeeds, it will change investor thinking in a big way.

It's a noble act to invest in people. Whatever happens, I know that everyone of their employees is more focused on the bottom line. I wager that team happiness will ultimately mean more to the company than even a price increase could. We'll see.

blast from the past

I got an email last week from a Durango friend that the old New York Bakery exploded. The demise of the 200 year old building was due to a fire two doors down. The pictures on the net were of the bricks from the roofline strewn on the street below.


I used to own the old building and the business it housed. We brought the croissant to southwest Colorado. Albeit a questionable claim to fame, the spirit of the business was to bring new things to a historic small town with tourist traffic that defined it. Every summer, out of towners flocked to the Durango Silverton Narrow Gauge railroad. Excited in the morning and weary in the evening, they wandered Main Street and, when we were lucky, they found our restaurant.

When I got the news, a flood of memories came upon me. So many that I couldn't finish this post. Places are really about people. Enjoy the story of our stop along the journey (read more above) that proves the point:

One night in Anchorage, a few months ago spurred by an email from my friend in Durango, we had fun looking for friends from our ski area days. Turns out, there was an obscure discussion forum post that mentioned John Briner, Skagway, AK. John ran the ski school when we worked at the ski area. We had more fun and drank more beers together than anyone should be allowed. He was there the night we rode the canoe in the powder on Chipmunk Hill and forever tweaked the bow. (Another story, another time.)

The night before we got on the ferry in Haines, we called information and found that, yes, there was a John Briner in Skagway and yes, he was the same one that worked at Purgatory.

We met John in the Red Onion, a bar on corner across from the train station. He walked into the bar looking around smiling so that his eyes squinted just as they always did. His six foot something skinny frame leaned over to hug and shake hands. His lady, Karen, was there to witness our first-time-in-twenty-years reunion. We found a table, ordered the beers and began two days of “whatever happened to” stories.

Like I said, the places we've been are only as memorable as the people we meet.