"I'm in love with this restaurant," she told me over a delicious, elegant breakfast at Villard's Restaurant in the beautiful Lotte New York Palace hotel. I was meeting with the CEO of a renowned publicity firm over the prospect of her firm handling the PR for my new book. "Every time I go into the lady's bathroom," she timidly admitted, "I find myself cleaning their sink so others will share this restaurant's grandeur."
It was one of the oddest, yet most poignant compliments I had ever heard from a customer of any establishment. What devotion would it take to cause a customer to polish the restroom after a visit? With my customer intelligence hat firmly in place, I asked her, "What feature makes you so infatuated?" "Ownership," she pronounced without a moment's hesitation. "They make me feel like I own the place!"
Ownership is the pinnacle of emotional branding. Just a quick refresher on branding. In the old West during the era of open ranches, grazing cattle shared the same terrain. The hot tattoo became a convenient way to identify a particular cow as one belonging to a specific rancher. Actually, the Egyptians were branding cows 4000 years ago, but their movies weren't as good as the ones with cowboys! Branding graduated to merchandise like Ivory soap, Campbell soup and Coca-Cola. Brand informed look, style, advertising, and its subtle messaging were carefully protected. Today, we spot golden arches and instantly know what "cow" lies beneath it.
But the critical part of the old West tattoos was not identification, it was ownership. It was not a cow a rancher could recognize, it was unmistakable "his cow." Branding has expanded to become a psychological and social connection, not just a marketing one. A business can declare it has lassoed the loyalty of a customer if it can get that customer to move from familiarity to fidelity; from "Meet me at the Starbucks at 49th and Main," to "Meet me at my Starbucks." My breakfast colleague did not declare her admiration; she espoused her love. That enchantment springs from inclusion, identity, instruction and insidership.
Inclusion: Customers Care When They Share
I was staying at a Homewood Suites in San Antonio and arrived early at their breakfast buffet before it was completely arranged. The employee in charge of set-up picked up on my happy-go-lucky, "take your time" attitude and took a risk. "You want to have some early morning fun?" she asked me. "You bet," I replied. "Okay," she responded in her most impish tone, "grab those cereal boxes over there and set ‘em out like this was gonna be a breakfast party." Within minutes the buffet was ready. I felt like "I owned the place." While some guests might only want to be served, the Homewood employee accurately gauged I was one who would get a charge out of being an involved participant rather than an idle bystander. Guess which hotel I booked on my next trips to San Antonio?
Identity: Get Me a Bass Pro Shop Hat
Buc-ee's is a highly successful Texas-based chain of almost 40 convenience stores. With hundreds of Facebook fans and YouTube tributes, the company specializes in growing avid fans. The typical store has over 50,000 square feet of retail space, well over a 100 fueling positions and is always open. The food is gourmet, not just convenient. However, they spread their "fan club" by having lots of Buc-ee's souvenirs for customers to "wear their brand." Ironically, they are "world famous" for their "constantly polished bathrooms" filled with lots of art work for sale. Owner Arch "Beaver" Aplin claims people call him all the time seeking to mimic in their homes the cleverly designed Buc-ee's bathrooms.
Instruction: Make Your Customers Smarter
I have a concierge doctor who has elevated the patient-doctor relationship from drive-by to intimacy. I can call him 24-7 and reach him directly, not an answering service. He will make house calls. But, the part that captured my loyalty was his zeal to make me a smart patient. I not only get his monthly newsletter, if I see him for a malady I usually leave with copies of articles he copied from medical journals, not just a lame invitation to visit Dr. Google. But, here is the best part. Dr. T (as he likes to be called) narrates his work, sparing no detail about what he was doing at each step and why. I get the experience a new medical student might get, learning from a pro. "Lessons" reflect his passion for medicine and excitement about getting to work with his patients, not on his patients. Openness is his style; patient instruction is his goal.
Insidership: Give them the Secret Code
Lady Gaga has perhaps the most effective celebrity fan club on the planet. "Little Monsters" are in the know on insider information—like concert schedules and early bird tickets before they are available to the general public. She has over 75 million Twitter followers. Want another example? Buy a Porsche, and the salesperson is likely to envelop you in the car's little-known history like LeMans racing stories of why the car's ignition switch is on the left side of the steering column. Telsa, another devotion-maker, added "Easter eggs" to their vehicles—whimsical enhancements like turning the GPS screen into the surface of the moon and the car into a moon rover. Many are insider features new owners only discover after they have purchased the vehicle. The secret to secrets is to ensure they are valued by their recipient.
Customer love is the lofty marketing goal of every brand. Infatuated customers not only sing your praises, but they also give you a wide berth to make mistakes—a crucial feature when experimenting in the pursuit of growth. But, the most endearing service a "customer in love" provides an organization is the care and concern they demonstrate. They defend you even when they know you are wrong. They provide compassionate, candid feedback like your mother who worried about shielding you from life's hardships. They will "clean your bathroom sink."
