Have you ever sensed an adversarial, “us vs. them” mentality from employees of service organizations?

Perhaps you were on the receiving end of what you would describe as rude or abusive behavior? Or perhaps it was more subtle—like dismissive body language or an exasperated sigh? Maybe it did not even involve you and was just something you overheard or observed?

Just last month I witnessed a supermarket employee chastise a customer in the store’s parking lot. When the customer failed to return his shopping cart to a designated cart collection area, the employee called out sarcastically, “Excuse me. That’s not where the cart goes!”

I get it. I know that supermarkets provide signage and make it relatively easy for customers to return their shopping carts to designated areas throughout the parking lot. And most customers cooperate and return the carts as requested. But a few customers do not for a variety of reasons: they have young children in the car, it’s raining, they’re in a hurry, etc.

Why is this employee competing with his customer regarding whose responsibility it is to properly secure the shopping cart? That’s an argument he will never win. After all, it’s his job to collect and return the shopping carts. That’s what he’s paid to do!

The customer’s only obligation is to pay for his groceries. And we can assume he’s done that. Instead of being admonished, he should be appreciated.

Last baseball season I was having lunch at one of the downtown sports bars in Lodo, across the street from Coors Field in Denver. As the game got underway, the restaurant quickly emptied as fans left for the ballpark.

About that time, three couples entered the bar and seated themselves at one of the many available tables towards the front of the bar. I noticed they were carrying burritos they likely bought from one of the many vendors selling food on the streets of Lodo prior to the Rockies game.

Within a few minutes the group was confronted by a server who said, “You can’t eat those in here.”

One of the guests, attempting to reason with the server, said, “We’re planning to order some beers and watch the game.”

The server reprimanded the group saying, “You’re not allowed to bring food into the restaurant—even if you order something to drink.”

From that point on, I was unable to make out what either party said because the comments were mostly under their breath. I can, however, attest that neither party appreciated the other and the group spent no money at the bar that day—and perhaps never will.

Now, I know that restaurants are in the business of selling food and that if every customer brought in his own food, then the restaurant would suffer. And most restaurants likely have formal policies against such “breaches of trade.”

Still, why the jousting? Is there another way the server could have handled this situation that would have resulted in a different outcome—one that might have benefited the guests, server, and establishment?

A few years ago, I was seated in the boarding area at Dulles International Airport awaiting my fate as a standby passenger on the last nonstop flight to Denver. About ten minutes after the last passenger boarded, my name was called and I was given a seat assignment and permitted to board the plane.

As I was the last passenger to board, all eyes were on me as I struggled to find space for my garment bag in the overhead bin. Just then, one of the flight attendants called down the aisle, “Ladies and gentlemen, we can only depart when this man is seated.”

She seemed to relish in using a perverse form of peer pressure to motivate me to quickly stow my bag and be seated. As I had yet to make any friends on the flight—and weary airline passengers can be quite ruthless—I settled into a most uncomfortable center seat for the ride home.

Again, I get the airline’s policy requiring all passengers to be seated with seat belts secured prior to departure but couldn’t this flight attendant have found a way to communicate this message without publicly admonishing her customer?

Always compete for customers, not against them. You’ve probably heard the saying: “You never win an argument with a customer.” It’s true. Even if you have signage to point to or a policy to reference, if you offend a customer then you lose—maybe a little or maybe a lot.

The next time that you draw a line in the sand between you and your customers, consider inviting them to cross the line. That way, you can be on the same side.

How about you? What is your experience or example?

Earlier today, I stopped by one of those cookie specialty stores to pick up an order of one dozen cookies that had been decorated as pineapples. (In case you’re wondering, the pineapple serves as a symbol of hospitality and warm welcome.)

As I’m preparing to pay, the clerk said, “So that’s twelve cookies at $6.85 each… $82.20. Then two boxes at $3.50 each… $7.00. And…”

I interrupted, saying, “Pardon me. Did you say I have to pay $3.50 for each of the boxes?” She confirmed the charge saying, “If you want a regular box, there’s no charge. But we charge extra for this box because it is only supposed to be used for our gourmet cookies.”

I asked her, “How much do you sell the gourmet cookies for?”

She said, “Eleven dollars per dozen.”

Now, I’m standing there trying to reconcile the absurdity of what I had just heard and asked, “So if I were to buy a dozen gourmet cookies for $11, then you’d give me the box?”

She said, “No. That box is only used for two dozen gourmet cookies.”

“Okay.” I said, “If I were to buy two dozen gourmet cookies at a cost of $22, would you give me the box?”

She said, “We sell two dozen gourmet cookies for $22. If you want them in the box, the cost is $33.”

She said all of this with a straight face.

I collected my thoughts and asked her one final question of understanding which I prefaced with: “Okay, just so that I have this correct, I could buy two dozen gourmet cookies in a bag for $22 and also buy the box for $3.50 totaling $25.50. Or, I could buy two dozen gourmet cookies in the box for $33 and pay $7.50 more. Is that right?”

While she acknowledged that my math was correct, she would not acknowledge the lunacy of their pricing model. Instead, she justified it saying, “It’s corporate pricing. We don’t have anything to do with it.”

In the end, I left having paid $88.86—which included the price of one dozen decorated cookies plus tax. She grudgingly parted with two gourmet cookie boxes with lids.

I’m certain she’s told anyone who was willing to listen about this cheapo customer who came by the store to pick up his order and balked at paying a measly $3.50 for a gourmet cookie box. She may have even suggested that, since this customer doesn’t even work in the cookie business, what right does he have to challenge their pricing policies? Silly customers. When will they learn their place?

Well, I’ve learned my place. The next time I’m looking to spend $88.86 on a dozen decorated cookies, my place will be their competitor: Cookies in Bloom on University Blvd. here in Denver. I’ve already called and confirmed they don’t charge extra for boxes.

Yesterday, my family and I went to a local franchise sandwich shop for lunch.  This shop is unique in that you record the specifications of your order (e.g., white or wheat bread, choice of cheese, type of drink, etc.) on a brown paper bag that serves as written confirmation of your order details and will eventually contain your completed sandwich.

I handed the bags containing each of our orders to the cashier who reviewed the specifications of each meal order, rung them up, and clipped each of the bags to a wire that ran the length of the sandwich production counter.  To speed things up, she relayed orders to the support staff—who was either assembling sandwiches or preparing drinks—as she entered each new order.

After she had reviewed the final bag, she confirmed that she had received five orders.

I said, “Oh wait.  There were a total of six orders.”

Here’s where the experience began to head south…

She then said, “Well, I only received five.”

Since I had helped each of my children complete their orders on the brown paper bags, I was quite sure that there were six orders.

The cashier double-checked the orders that were clipped to the wire and said, “Oh.  There are six orders here.”

She then totaled my order and handed me two plastic cups to be used at the self-serve soda station and three chocolate milks.  As I handed her my charge card, I said, “Oh wait.  I only ordered two chocolate milks and I need one more plastic cup for a soda.”

The cashier replied, “You ordered three chocolate milks.”

Again, since I had helped my children complete their orders, I was quite sure that only two of them wanted chocolate milk and one of them wanted a soda.

The cashier double-checked the orders clipped to the wire and said, “Oh, I guess you did order only two chocolate milks.”

I then asked for a third cup for the soda station and she said, “You only paid for two sodas.”

I then said, “I’m pretty sure I paid for three.”

She checked the receipt and, again, acknowledged that she had made a mistake.  She handed me another plastic cup.

This experience reminded me of the old customer service adage, “The answer’s yes….now what’s the question?”  Had this cashier operated out of a perspective that, between she and the customer, it’s most likely that the customer knows the intent of his or her order specifications, then this unpleasant exchange could have been avoided.  The customer should always be given credit for knowing his intentions.  His preferences should be affirmed (not questioned), verified when prudent to do so (e.g., clarifying that a $1.50 fountain drink had, in fact, been paid for), and fulfilled.

A contrary mindset that suggests the answer’s no or that the customer is most likely wrong creates an adversarial relationship that undermines memorable customer service and reinforces an “us versus them” culture which, if you’re reading this, is probably contrary to the service culture you’re hoping to create.