Ten Questions to Ask Every New Employee

Originally Published at Library Garden

Kate Sheehan had a wonderful post a week or so ago, Customer Service Mind, Beginner Mind, in which she writes about the value of looking at things with a fresh eye. It reminded me that every time I ever started a new job, I was hyper-aware of all the wacky things about my new organization; the signs that had been taped to the door since 1973: the restrictive (or just plain arbitrary and weird) policies that seemed to have no rhyme nor reason; the lack of basic equipment available for staff (no sliderules or abaci, but close.)

These awarenesses weren't always negative. Sometimes I was aware of the amazing benefit package that everyone else seemed to take for granted (or even grumble about) ; or an incredibly efficient work flow or communication mechanism -- like a wall in the staff room with everyone's picture (Facebook 1.0), or a Director that was actually available to speak with employees.

But no matter how strong or strange these awarenesses were, they always faded away within the first few weeks on the job. It didn't take long before my new environment would simply register as "normal." Seriously, there could have been a chimpanzee in a tuxedo singing the star-spangled banner in the lobby; but if he was there on day 1 and day 2, by day 3, I'd be nodding and saying, "morning George, you sound good today. Nice job on the bowtie..." In other words, I can't underestimate the power of our brains to adapt and reset the benchmark for normal experience.

I always thought that those first few weeks as a new employee, when everyone told me everything and more, but no one asked me for MY thoughts or impressions, were a wasted opportunity. So when I became a department manager I made it part of the orientation process to squeeze these observations out of all new employees. I would literally take new employees to lunch and tell them that for the next few weeks, their perceptions were extremely valuable and encourage them to share with me if there was ANYTHING that we did that seemed odd, inefficient, wasteful, or stupid. Or amazing, creative, and blazingly brilliant.

If you can manage to get this data -- heck, even one tiny piece of datum -- from your new employees (give them a break now and then from reading the 250 page employee manual), you'll have gotten some very useful information.

So. Submitted for your approval, here are my Top Ten Questions To Ask Every New Employee. [drumroll please...]

1. What was your first impression when you walked into the library?
2. What are your impressions of the aesthetic environment inside the building? What could we do to improve it?
3. What are your impressions of the aesthetic environment outside the building? What could we do to improve it?
4. What are we doing that strikes you as wasteful -- of time or money?
5. What services are you surprised to learn that we are offering, for better or worse?
6. What services are you surprised to learn that we are NOT offering, for better or worse?
   
7. Are there any policies that you don't understand the rationale for? Are there any policies that strike you as just plain nuts?
8. What are your impressions of our website?
9. What was your experience like when you called the library? What are your impressions of our phone system?
10. What are your impressions of our customer service orientation? Are we customer-focused? What could we do to be more so?
    
    BONUS QUESTIONS (for the brave ones out there)
    
11. How friendly (or unfriendly) did the staff seem when you first walked in the door?
12. What are we doing that strikes you as straight-up bat sh*t crazy?

If you consistently ask these questions of your new employees, you'll have a wonderful opportunity to recapture the newness of seeing, if only briefly, through borrowed, "beginner mind" eyes.

Tags: management, new employees, employee orientation, beginner mind, library management, libraries

The Human Touch

The Human Touch (in which a crazy-bad "system" is made less bad by a live, caring human being)

In November I'm going to be staffing a booth at New Jersey's annual teacher's convention to help promote our statewide virtual reference service QandANJ. A few months ago I filled out the necessary forms to reserve booth space on the exhibit floor in the Atlantic City Convention Center. Soon after, I was sent the "exhibitor's manual" which included another myriad of forms to fill out. So many options! Do we want a table? How many? What size? A table drape? What color? Carpet? Plush? Regular? Color? Chairs? How many? Wastebasket? Do you want the booth vacuumed? How often? Do you want electricity? What kind? (yup, there's different kinds.) Internet Access? Telephone? Help setting up the booth? Taking it down? Will you be sending boxes of stuff? To the warehouse? To the booth? Etc. Etc.

I suppose choice is good, but the quality of the forms that would (hopefully) reflect my choices were not so good. Small type. Poor design. Lot's of repetition. Yesterday I spent the better part of the morning attempting to fill out these many poorly-designed forms, all written in 6 pt type. There were eleven different forms. Eleven. And they had to be faxed to three different places! Each form asked for the same information: Name, phone, email, fax, credit card. Name, phone, email, fax, credit card. Name, phone, email, fax, credit card. Wouldn't it have been great if I could have gone to a single website, entered this information ONCE, then made my selections electronically? Hey, a boy can dream, can't he?

As it was, my morning was eaten up, my eyes were crossing, but there was a single saving grace: The exhibitor hotline. I had called the exhibitor hotline months ago when I first ordered the booth. In fact, I called it five times in one day (the initial forms I used to order the booth were no less confusing.) Each time I called, the phone was answered on the first ring by Kris. Kris was pleasant. Kris was helpful. Kris was friendly. When I called, I was feeling equal parts stressed, frustrated, and stupid. Kris talked to me like I wasn't stupid. She comforted me and made it clear that I could call as often as I needed to. So I did.

Yesterday morning I renewed my contact with Kris. She was still there, picking up the phone after one ring with a friendly greeting, helping me figure out the forms and understand the ramifications of my choices. She even made a few phone calls to assure that I'd get the early-bird rate even though I was a few days past the deadline ("Oh, since this is your first time exhibiting...")

So yes, the "system" sucked, and yes my eyes hurt, but in the end, to be honest, I felt fairly positive about the whole thing. Sure, I would have preferred a system that didn't require me to interact with another human being (and I'm an extrovert). And I certainly would have preferred a system that didn't take 3 hours of my time to communicate some relatively simple choices. But having a live person--a warm, caring, informed live person--available to help me gave a HUGE boost to my overall level of satisfaction.

So I ask: What happens when our customers need help? Whether it's a reference question, a query about branch hours, or someone trying to find out what time storytime starts. Do they get a live person? Do they get an informed, warm, caring live person? Is the phone answered after one ring? Two rings? Five rings?

Kris was my escape valve. Ultimately it's better to design our systems so we don't need an escape valve. After all, what happens when Kris retires, or takes another job? Without her on the other end of the exhibitor hotline I would have been in hell. But even the best systems can only benefit from having an escape valve. A Kris who picks up after one ring. A human touch.

If asked to evaluate my experience as a prospective exhibitor at NJEA I'd give failing grades for convenience, but an A plus for the customer service I received from Kris. Overall, a solid B.

In my next post (on convenience) I'm going to describe a very different experience...

Technorati Tags: customer experience, customer service, design, LibraryGarden, Libraries