Marilyn Thiele
An urgent need for new eyeglasses (urgent because I have put off the task for as long as safely or comfortably possible) brought to mind the many styles of retail selling we are all faced with each day. My reluctance to shop for eyewear has nothing to do with the actual eye exam; I like my eye doctor and the exam is easy and pleasant. But choosing the new glasses is torture. Every time I enter the store attached to the doctor’s office I am pounced upon by a cheery young woman whose sole job seems to be to keep me from browsing. She takes one look and begins thrusting “suggestions” toward my face. Over the years, the individual has been different but the selling style is the same. This time, a few weeks before I even had a new prescription, I tried stopping at the store just to browse. I hoped that the fact that I would not actually be buying that day would allow me to look on my own at what was available. By the time I left, three possible frames were on hold for me, none of which I had chosen. I acquiesced just to be able to leave.
I realize that I can go elsewhere; but experiences of friends and family indicate that this is a universal selling style in the eyeglass world. Are they afraid that if they do not hover over me, I will run off with a frame filled with clear glass? I practically need to put my nose on the mirror to see how frames look on me, so I am not shopping for glasses to make a style statement; without the correct lenses, they are useless to me. The constant, aggressive attention generates a desire to leave, not buy.
Then there are the stores (and yes, even small independent ones) where the customer feels like she is intruding; no greeting, no eye contact, annoyance when asked a question. This treatment doesn’t generate a desire to buy or return either.
My own shopping experiences influence my selling style, in what I hope is a balance between the two extremes. I don’t want a customer requesting that I hold a book, or even buying one, just to escape the pressure. Nor do I want them to feel that no one cared that they were there. I want them to feel appreciated but not smothered, and that the environment is a comfortable one to return to.
After the initial warm greeting when a customer enters the store, listening and watching are the most important skills for a bookseller. A new customer who “just wants to browse” is given a quick verbal tour of the store; if they specify a genre or subgenre, I can provide more direction. I then try to stay available, shelving or straightening books quietly. Corner of the eye observation indicates the next step. The shopper avidly picking up books and reading the cover summaries or the first few lines wants to be left alone. The one staring at the shelves with a glazed look now needs more help.
Customers come in many varieties. A gentle “Do you need some help?” elicits anything from “I don’t know what I want to read” to “I’m looking for that book that was on TV this morning.” The assumption is that the bookseller is both a mind reader and able to watch every morning talk show while listening to several radio programs. Trying to be an omniscient psychologist is the most enjoyable part of owning a book store. Customers want to know that the person talking to them sincerely wants them to find the perfect book. And I do.
The omniscience required is provided by the computer: a little patient searching usually yields the unknown title and author. What is surprising is how often the customer, when given more detail, realizes the book holds no interest for her; she was listening to an enthusiastic interviewer while getting the kids off to school. But she has taken the time to come to a bookstore, wanting something to read, and a little chat about her interests will lead to a sale and a repeat customer.
More questioning is required in response to the plaintive “I don’t know what I want to read!” Lately, hearing that someone wants to read is enough to put me in a positive frame of mind. Simple questions about what the customer has read recently, what they have enjoyed, and what they haven’t, yields information that further distinguishes readers. Those who haven’t read anything for a while are open to many ideas, and are often lost if too many are presented. (They are also usually getting ready to go on vacation.) Suggesting two or three authors that seem to fit their taste and allowing them time with the books is the best approach. Then there are the challenging ones who don’t know what they want because they have read everything by their favorite authors; every suggestion gets the response, “I already read that.” Fortunately, there is no shortage of good literature. Not being able to read everything, I have learned that listening to customers chat about books gives the seller a good background for finding that perfect new author for this reader; it just takes a little time.
Some readers have very specific criteria: only cozies, only needlework or gardening or cooking (never all three); only U.S. (not even Canadian or British) writers; only medieval, etc. They have usually read everything available that fits their requirements. I have succeeded in convincing some needlework fans to try bookstore backgrounds, (or movie houses, or guest houses), or lovers of the middle ages to try another historical period, and they were able to expand their horizons a bit. For someone like me, who can enjoy the warmest cozy, the darkest noir, or the most heart-pounding thriller, set in any time or place, it is hard not to say “You’re missing so much!” Here is where a sincere desire to find the right book for the customer takes precedence over the mystery fan who wants to praise books outside the reader’s comfort zone.
Probing to find out what a reader liked in a specific book or series often leads to surprising answers. “Did you enjoy the humor? The characterization? The complexity of the puzzle? The setting?” “Well, no , it had a dog in it, and I like dogs.” This preference, of course, leads to suggestions, but not the ones the listener originally had in mind.
One exception to my way of dealing with customers who seem to need assistance is children. I learned long ago that suggestions from either parents or the bookseller are generally met with an automatic and emphatic “No!” The rejection appears to have nothing to do with the book or the person recommending it; children want no interference in their selection. I applaud their independence and that they feel they can exercise it when searching for books. Other than guarding against inappropriate material (no, manga is not a comic book for an 8-year-old), I am pleased to let them make their own choices. Yesterday I watched a six-year-old seriously and studiously look through a shelf of books. His face lit up and he pulled out one about pirates. I know he’ll be back.
The reward for listening to, observing, and chatting with customers is more than the pleasure of the interaction, or the joy of discussing books. It is the return customer, the one who says, “I loved that book you recommended. Are there any others by that author? Or any others like him?” And of course, he tells his friends about your wonderful book store.
Maybe the problem with eyeglass stores is that they know: a) you have to buy glasses sooner or later and b)you won’t be back for two years anyway. The rest of us need to nurture our customers more carefully.
