This post is the first in a series over the next 10 weeks that will identify 10 different obstacles that have emerged from my analysis of customer satisfaction data. Maybe you will have encountered one or more of these obstacles in your own business? The first obstacle is apathy.

Apathy takes many forms, including: neglect, indifference, and unresponsiveness.

I took the photo to the right at a small strip center in my neighborhood. The center contains a nail salon and a dry cleaner. Both businesses will succeed or fail based on their ability to improve the appearance of their customers—whether nails or attire. Yet neither business seems interested in improving the appearance of their stores’ exterior.

Now some will say, “If I’m the tenant, it’s not my responsibility. Certainly building maintenance, landscaping, and snow removal are included in the lease.”

“It’s not my responsibility?” That’s just another way of saying, “It’s not my job.”

This sentiment plagues customer service everywhere. I’m confident most of us have heard an employee say, “It’s not my job” or “It’s not my department” in response to our questions or concerns.

While I haven’t read their leases, I have formed an impression about both businesses—and it isn’t positive. Why should I have confidence that the dry cleaner will pay careful attention to detail with my garments when it so egregiously neglects the appearance of its storefront?

The opposite of apathy is initiative. And initiative simply requires a choice. Many service providers choose the well-worn path of least resistance. This results in predictable, routine, and indifferent customer service.

But exceptional service providers make the conscious choice daily to accept personal responsibility, take initiative, and make positive lasting impressions on their customers—even if that means doing something that’s “not my job” like, say, pulling weeds.

Earlier this month, I emailed a freelance graphic designer the following message:

“I have an idea for a design project that I can articulate but not design. Any chance you’re available for 10 min. to discuss? I’m also around next week. Thanks.”

And received this reply:

“Next week would be better.”

Okay. He’s not available to talk today. That’s cool. We’ll talk next week.

I then replied back:

“Great! Talk w/ you then.”

A few minutes later, he sent the following reply:

“Send me a little reminder next week.”

Huh?

I’m trying to imagine receiving an inquiry from a prospective client and, after establishing that we’ll talk the following week, suggesting that he “send me a little reminder” so that I won’t forget about the opportunity that he’s making available to me.

Needless to say, I “forgot” to send him a little reminder but I did remember to contact a second freelance graphic designer. He has already returned my call, scoped the project, and submitted a quote that I’ve accepted. And if he’d asked for 50 percent up front, then he’d have a check from me as well.

This may seem obvious but don’t ever ask a prospect or client to remember something that’s your responsibility—especially when that something is an opportunity for you to make a sale.

Studies by J.D. Power and Associates and others suggest that customer loyalty may increase when problems experienced by customers are resolved to their satisfaction (or, better yet, their delight). Even so, problems often go unresolved or ignored by employees who are in a position to make things right and win over customers in the process.

Earlier this week in New York City, I had experiences that illustrate both extremes:

The first involved a cab ride in midtown Manhattan Tuesday morning. When I entered the taxicab at the intersection of 57th St. and Park Avenue, I said to the driver, “I’m headed down to Twenty-eighth and Park.”

He nodded and instantly we were heading south on Park Avenue towards 28th St. Initially, the driver made no impression whatsoever and I became lost in the sights and sounds of the city outside my taxicab.

It took a moment for me to realize that he had pulled over at 48th St. and totaled the fare at $4.70. Noticing this, I leaned forward and repeated, “Twenty-eighth Street, not Forty-eighth Street.”

The driver, accepting responsibility for the misunderstanding, smiled and said, “Ah—Twenty-eighth Street. I am so sorry.”

As we continued south on Park Avenue, I noticed that the fare reading on the meter remained unchanged. Sure enough, as he pulled to the curb at 28th St., the total fare had not changed from $4.70. He had accepted responsibility for the misunderstanding and absorbed the final twenty blocks worth of fare.

As a result, I paid ten dollars for the ride and thanked him for his understanding.

Contrast this with an experience I had later that day at a midtown diner:

My server, Mackenzie, was a delight. She was effervescent, interested, and engaged. She made eye-contact, smiled, and added enthusiasm to her voice. She was exceptional.

After I had ordered a cheeseburger, a Coke, and a side of onion rings for lunch, Mackenzie said, “What would you like on your cheeseburger?”

I said, “Just lettuce. Hold the pickles and onions.” Then I added, “I know it’s weird. I’m ordering a side of onion rings but having you hold the onions on my cheeseburger. I just like them fried.”

She smiled and said, “Oh, I know just what you’re talking about. I’m the same way!”

We had made a personal connection. The ice was broken. I was no longer just another restaurant cover. And she was no longer just another server. She delivered my Coke to the table, smiled wide, and was off to the kitchen to submit my lunch order.

Ten minutes later, the diner’s manager arrived at my table with my cheeseburger and a basket of tater tots. At the same time, Mackenzie arrived tableside to verify that I was all set.

As the manager placed the tater tots on the table I said, “Oh wait—I didn’t order tater tots. I ordered onion rings.”

Mackenzie looked at her manager, then at me (this time, not smiling) and said, “You ordered tater tots.”

At first I thought she was joking—especially given the conversation we’d had about onions. When it was clear that she wasn’t kidding, I said, “Don’t you remember our conversation? (silence) I had you hold the onions on my cheeseburger but ordered a side of onion rings?”

Stone faced, and without responding, she followed her manager back to the kitchen. When she returned to the restaurant floor, she avoided my table. A few minutes later, the manager placed a basket of onion rings on my table and left without saying a word.

Now, I’m not sure what the dynamics were. Maybe Mackenzie’s manager is particularly intolerant of mistakes? Maybe there was some other reason that caused her to claim ignorance in order to save face? Either way, I felt uneasy about it. (Of the many feelings you’d like your customers to experience, uneasiness isn’t one of them.)

I ate my lunch (which was excellent), paid my bill, and left.

On a ten-point scale, I would rate my experience with the cab driver a ten and, if given the chance, would go out of my way to ride with him again. I would refer him to others and would even be willing to pay a small premium to ride with this particular driver—largely due to the trust and confidence I now have in him.

On the other hand, I would rate my experience at the diner a six and would not go out of my way to return to this diner or recommend it to others. My review has been tainted by the “tater tot incident” and, specifically, Mackenzie’s refusal to accept responsibility for her mistake.

Problems are inevitable. Whether or not employees choose to own them, however, is optional. Those employees who do are one step closer to resolving problems—and creating loyal customers!