Saturn: Customer Service from Another Planet

I am a Saturn guy.  The car brand, not the planet.

The very first car I bought was a Saturn SL1 in 1991: A green, four-door, tan interior, compact with dent-resistant polymer panels for those runaway shopping carts. I remember reading and watching commercials about this quirky and "different kind of car" company when I was in graduate school. A whole new model of American car manufacturing and selling born in the 1980s. The car wasn't flashy or fancy. It was affordable, reliable and it sold itself on being all about the customer. A no haggle, no hassle, it's-all-about-making-the-customer-happy kind of car company. Unimaginable at the time.

I know the story for Saturn didn't end well.  You can read accounts in Forbes or Curbside Classic or view the timeline of its rise and demise here.   The car brand was discontinued by parent General Motors in 2009. Saturn went the way of the Pontiac,  Pinto and Edsel, but as a model for a great customer experience it will always set a very high bar with me.

This resonated with me recently when I was reading The Ten Principles Behind Great Customer Experiences by Matt Watkinson. It brought me back to the way I experienced Saturn as a customer, and how many of the things they did were right in line with his thinking. As Watkinson writes, great customer experiences help set new expectations and then meet them. They are stress-free, effortless and personal; often, they put the customer in control. Saturn did all this very well with me over the years.  

From Skeptic to True Believer

The initial shock of Saturn when it first launched was the no-haggle pricing and shopping experience (see this video). They knew that the traditional car-buying experience left people feeling like they had been swindled (this was in the pre-Internet, on-line buying scenarios we have today). 

So, of course, I was very skeptical the first time I bought a Saturn. In fact, I went to two dealers in different towns to see if it was really true. It was, but I didn't understand how it worked and what they were up to. They set the expectation that you would be 100% satisfied and they surveyed you all the time to check -- and if you weren't satisfied they wanted to know about it so they could meet that expectation (Today, nearly every car dealer does surveys and will do anything for that perfect score).

When you picked up your Saturn, it wasn't "sign here, take the keys and your car is in the back." It was a fun celebration. It was the beginning of a relationship, not the end of a transaction. When I picked up my first Saturn, the car was actually waiting inside the dealership and presented like a gift. The entire sales department, service department, receptionist, etc., came to congratulate me and wish me on my way.

I remember one salesman I got to know over the years, Norm. He was the most laid-back, non-pressure guy you'd ever meet.  He knew cars, but he really knew people. He met with me and my dad. There was no "what's it going to take to get you to drive out of here in a car today" pressure (I've had those, too, at other dealers). It was all about what I was looking for, what I needed the car for, what I valued and what was going to make me happy as a customer.

Finding the Secret to Each Customer's Satisfaction

After having owned two Saturn sedans and one coupe (I told you I was a Saturn guy), my wife and I were about to start a family and we needed a bigger car. It was the first year that Saturn was introducing its SUV called the VUE. It looked like a great car, but it was in its first year of production and so you always wondered if they worked the kinks out. 

I believed in Saturn. They had set an expectation with me that the purchase would be easy. The dealership would stand behind the car. I knew many of the people there (like Norm). And, they would do their best to keep my experience stress-free and effortless.

Well, a week or so after having my VUE, I started to hear this horrible creaky sound every time I would stop to make a turn. It sounded like some old jalopy instead of a brand new car. 

I was still dealing with Norm and I told him this was not what I had signed up for at Saturn. I was not satisfied. He kept talking to me to understand what it was that would turn this around for me. He only had so many options -- none of which made me satisfied -- and he asked me if I would like to speak to someone at Saturn's corporate office, which I did. 

The next day, Norm called me and asked me to stop in. He said he and the dealership owners felt badly that this car wasn't all that I had expected from a new Saturn. They didn't know when Saturn would have the fix available, but they wanted to do something. They would make my monthly car payments until they could fix the car. And, they did that for six months until Saturn came out with a resolution for the squeaking. Definitely proof to me of a different kind of car company.

Some people may have written Saturn off, but for me they turned a disappointment into a great example of customer focus and stood behind their brand promise.

Great Customer Experience Comes in the Most Tense Moments

For years, I stayed loyal to Saturn. The cars themselves were solid, a few problems here and there, but I knew the Saturn brand and commitment to customer satisfaction meant something.

I remember the day I was taking the VUE to pick up my first child Emma at the hospital. I was stressed out and I couldn't get the seat belts to lock up on the car seat I had installed. I was in a panic and called the dealership with a not-so-friendly tone.  The head of the service department Mike got on the phone and patiently explained to me how the seat belts worked (they don't lock until there is tension); he even offered to send someone over to help me out.  I was a little embarrassed and thanked him profusely for the help. To me it was unusual to get such friendly service. For him, it was the way they did business.

The Secret Ingredient of Great Companies

Over the years, I've enjoyed some great -- and not so great -- customer experiences. Customer obsession, customer focus, customer delight… whatever you call it, it is the secret ingredient of great companies – and one you can’t fake.

My expectations are high for customer service, and sometimes they may be a bit "out of this world,” but that is to be expected since they started with a “different kind of car” company called Saturn.  

Happy Father's Day -- Life Lessons from Emma's Dad

Today, I am proud to introduce the first ever guest post for my "Truth Is..." blog.  A few months ago, my daughter Emma had to write and deliver an original speech for her forensics team, and she decided it would be the perfect opportunity to tell everyone about the "life lessons" her father has imparted to her over 14 years. You won't be able to enjoy her dramatic delivery as I did, but the witty writing stands well on its own. She's talented at writing -- and embarrassing her dad. My only caveat is that -- like her father -- Emma is not beyond using an exaggeration or two for the sake of a laugh or good story telling. Be gentle on me. Enjoy and Happy Father's Day to all the dads who share their own life lessons every day!

***

"Life Lessons"

All kids have rules, even if we don’t like to follow them.  There is basically a rule for everything: homework, bedtime, chores. You name it, there’s a rule for it.  Although the rule does depend on which parent makes it.  For my mom, the rules are simple: do your chores, clean up after yourself, say please and thank you, and don’t embarrass her. 

With my Dad, it’s a completely different story.  His rules consist of so many strange things that it will make your head spin.  My Dad calls them “life lessons”, which are really rules in disguise. So far, I have been given the honor of receiving, well, A LOT of “life lessons”.   I will now share with you my top five favorites.

Three Squares

Life Lesson Number One: “Three Squares”.  Surprisingly one of Dad’s “life lessons” has to do with toilets.  It is basically pointed directly at me.  Dad’s rule is, you can only use three squares of toilet paper no matter how messy it is.  Gross, right?  Of course I always cheat on this “life lesson” because, three squares? Really?  

Life Lesson Number Two: “The Sunday Rules.”  What is the worst day of the week for you?  I bet you’ll say Monday.  Everyone hates Mondays.  My most dreaded day of the week?  Sunday.  On Sunday, we go to church.  Now I know it’s not very Catholic of me to hate this day, but in my defense, that day is when Dad’s “Sunday Rules” are enforced.  The “Sunday Rules” include get up early, get dressed for church, eat breakfast, and go to church on time.  Simple, right?  Wrong.  It’s basically a boot camp in my house on Sundays.  If everyone, including my mom, isn’t up and completely ready by 9:30, Dad will throw one of his, “Dad Fits.”  Trust me, a “Dad Fit” is not pretty.  A Dad Fit is when dad yells, but thinks he is not yelling.  He calls it “raising his voice.”

Sammy is not my dog.

Life Lesson Number Three: “Not My Dog.”  This summer we got a new dog, called Sammy.  In my opinion, he is one of the most adorable dogs ever.  Of course with every perfection there comes a flaw.  He absolutely loves to use the bathroom in the house.  Then my mom and dad always argue over who has to clean up the “incident”.  My dad’s favorite argument is that Sammy is my mom’s dog and not his.  He uses this with everything to do with the dog.  If the dog has to be taken out, he’ll always respond with “Not my dog.”  If the dog is tearing a magazine apart, Dad says “Not my dog.”  Dad’s “life lesson?”  If it wasn’t your idea, you have the ultimate out.  Sometimes I wish I could apply this rule to my homework. 

Life Lesson Number Four: “The Rough House Rule.”  As everyone in my house knows, Dad is in charge.  And like every great or not-so-great ruler, they can abuse their power.  But even kings have to have a little fun every once in a while.  What dad doesn’t love playing and getting dirty with their kids?”  And what kid doesn’t love to see their dad let loose?  But this happy playtime sadly does not last.  When Dad gets hurt, the dream turns into a nightmare.  Everything stops and there’s that moment where no one knows what to do.  By the way, Dad’s major injuries usually involves his glasses.  Dad’s “life lesson”? All rough housing stops when Dad gets hurt. 

Emma and Dad -- not on a Sunday,
but a fun day

Life Lesson Number Five: “Airline Parent.”  My final favorite “life lesson” is actually one that Dad made up for just himself.  The life lesson?  Always be an airline parent.  The rule on the airplane is that in case of emergency put the oxygen mask on yourself first before you help your child.  My dad lives and breathes this rule.  He gets to the shower first.  He makes his plate of dinner first.  He gets in the car first.  And you can be sure that if he is on an airplane sitting next to me and those oxygen masks come down, he’s going to put his on first.  Because, that’s the rule.

Oh, there are many more “life lessons” that I could share.  But even with all of these “life lessons”, my dad will always be the best dad in the world.  Now I know many of you have given this title to your dad.  I’m quite sure you have “Dad rules” in your house that could rival mine.  Dads can be real pains and have some crazy rules, but all of the “life lessons” are because they really care.  Those life lessons are actually “I love you” lessons.  PLUS it gives Mom and I lots of things to laugh at.  The truth of the matter is, I love my Dad… “life lessons” and all.  

          

The Quiet Man's Commencement Speech

Two years ago, I had this idea that everyone has a commencement speech to give. Everyone has lessons to share, stories to tell, advice to give -- if only someone asks.

It's an idea that returns to my mind every spring as graduates roll across stages, "Pomp and Circumstance" plays in your head, and the "best" commencement speeches flood social media.

My first try at this topic was with my mother in 2014. An ordinary woman by many standard measures, but an extraordinary woman by my standards.  You can read about her commencement advice here.

A Reluctant Speaker

This year, I decided to return to this topic. Naturally, I called on my father. The other half of my wise parenting duo. He wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. "I hoped you had forgotten," he said when I showed up at his house with my pen and pad ready for his interview.

My dad is a man of few words. He's a quiet man. Some of that might be because he has spent more than 50 years of his life competing with my chatty mom for an audience or "air-time." Some of it might just be his nature -- introverted and humble.

If you've never interviewed your parents, I highly recommend it. In my line of work, I've interviewed CEOs, scientists, business people, historians, etc., and my approach is always to be prepared with questions, but to probe and follow-up looking for the "story" or the color. It's a totally different dynamic and you learn things about their lives and their thinking that you may have never  have known before.

A Stable Boy and Soda Jerk from Jersey City 

My father has lived quite an interesting life over his 75 years. He has seen some amazing things and earned a great life with hard work. He could certainly teach some life lessons to this year's class of graduates.

My father grew up in Jersey City. His father was  a Scottish immigrant from Edinburgh, a tradesman. His mother was a Jersey City girl who worked for the phone company. I think he inherited his work ethic, quiet demeanor and handy-man qualities from his working class parents.

When you ask my father about his youth, the answers come slowly. It's like he is thoughtfully walking down a hall in his mind slowly remembering different people and moments. He opens and closes doors, and only tells you bits and pieces. He is still skeptical about the point to all of this.

I find out that when he was 15 years old, he  ran a stable in Jersey City  for a collection of horse owners. What? I can't fathom horse stables in the Jersey City where I grew up, but it existed down where Country Village is today and people rode in the parks and on some trails. The owners paid my father about $5 a week to clean, feed and care for the horses.  He tells me a bit about "Sarge," a tall black gelding jumper that he really liked.
 
That was his morning work. After school in the afternoons, he worked the counter at Pete & Henry's shop on the corner of Cator and Fowler Avenues (two blocks from where he lives today). He was a "soda jerk" as they called them in those days, making malteds and egg creams for the regulars. When I asked, he could still describe how he made the best egg cream in town (see classic recipe here). I learn that my father was an original "barista" mastering froth long before Starbucks.

And then on the weekends, he had yet another job, washing cars and pumping gas at Ed's service station. Horses, egg creams and cars. What else could a teenaged boy in Jersey City desire?

My quiet father doesn't really offer any great wisdom for graduates from this period of his life, but I think it tells its own message about the value of a strong work ethic.

Working in the Hallowed Halls of Bell Labs

In between these jobs, my father graduated from Snyder High School, where he specialized in Industrial Arts. He got his first job at AT&T Bell Labs and worked for a year in one of their electrical shops making coils for new phone prototypes and equipment. Then, he joined the U.S. Air Force.

He saw the world (San Antonio, Tex.., Wichita Falls, Ks., and Mt, Hebo, Oregon!!) and learned another trade -- air conditioning and cooling systems. As a kid, I never rally understood the A/C system and Air Force connection. Was my father the Maytag man for the military? No, my father explained that they needed major A/C systems to keep all the advanced radar equipment cool at the station in Oregon. They were keeping an eye on our neighbors in the Soviet Union and on the lookout for Russian aircraft.

After four years my father returned home to Jersey City to marry my mother. He went back to AT&T Bell Labs and worked there for 36 years.

The transistor was invented at Bell Labs in 1947,
one of the hallmark breakthroughs of this invention factory

My father beams with pride -- as much as this stoic man beams at all -- when he talks about "the Labs." He started out as a union member (AFL-CIO) and worked as a mechanic in various shops. It was an exciting era for Bell Labs and telecommunications. My father shared the halls and cafeteria with brilliant people who invented the transistor, discovered the Big Bang Theory and launched the first Telstar satellite.(Read a history of Bell Labs inventions here). 


He took great pride in being part of such a forward-looking place that was shaping technology and society. Some of the prototypes and materials he worked on became parts of the miniaturized circuit boards that would end up in the first telecommunication satellites circling the earth, the first Picture Phone (40 years before FaceTime) and the lasers that became the foundation of today's fiber optic networks.

Bell Labs was a special place and my father felt special for working there. His career progressed over the years into management jobs, overseeing the mailroom and loading dock operations as well as semiconductor clean rooms. He enjoyed supervising teams. "I always tried to treat them they way I wanted to be treated," he said. "It was always about getting the job done right."

I hear him talk about his time there and the lesson I take away for graduates is to pick a workplace, a company and a job you can be proud of. Be part of making a difference in the world. Understand and appreciate how your role -- whether it's fabricating silicon chips or delivering the mail -- is part of a bigger picture. Enjoy being part of something bigger than yourself that can change the world.

Times Change, But Don't be Afraid

In 1994, times were changing. AT&T, the former Ma Bell monopoly, was still trying to compete on a global stage and the old "contract for life" mentality was being tattered there and across Corporate America. My father, "the company man," essentially worked himself out of a  job and got a harsh dose of reality that many in his generation didn't see coming. He was "downsized" by AT&T after 36 years. "I didn't expect it," he said.  He would go onto work at Essex County College for another nine years, but leaving his home at Bell Labs was not easy.

When I asked my father what he would want to instill in graduates, the first thing he said was "Don't be afraid of change." This surprised me given the fact he spent half his life with one company. He talked about the changes he faced going from union jobs to management ranks at AT&T and other moments in his career. "Change is always challenging, but it taught me about different things that I enjoyed doing. Don't second guess yourself."

Education also means a great deal to my father, who has a high school diploma and a master's degree from the school of hard knocks. He would emphasize that to today's graduates: "I didn't have certain opportunities because I didn't have the education."

One More Lesson

At the end of our interview, I asked my dad about lessons he learned from people in his life, whom he admired. He returned to his youth and the horse stables. He described Sarge's owner, Bill Leach. "I always admired the way he carried himself with people and the way he dealt with problems in his life. He was very quiet, very deliberate and had a very calm demeanor." 

Ironically -- or perhaps not -- my father seems to be describing the man he has become since he was a redheaded teenager. Quiet, deliberate and someone to be admired. 

In our interview, he shared with me simple truths from his life about the value of hard work, handling change and treating people right. It's not a commencement speech that you'll find on YouTube, but it is a thoughtful conversation with one student -- his son -- who is still taking notes and learning lessons from his father. Class dismissed.

The Three C's of Great Mentoring

The other night I went to a fancy business dinner and ran into a long-time mentor of mine. Seeing him for the first time in a couple of years, I started to think about whether he realized the positive impact he had on me, my career and even my family. His advice and actions over the years had been very meaningful to me.  I took him aside for a moment and said thanks.  Thanks for everything.

He was someone I had turned to at key times in my career. When I was stepping into my first real leadership role with difficult personnel decisions, he was there with advice and help. When I was leaving the "nest" of one company to venture off to another, he was there to wish me luck and reassure me. When I was looking to make another career change, he helped open a door and gave me good advice about my life, not just my career.

I've been fortunate to have several special mentors in my career.  People who shaped me, steered me and set me on my path. As I reflect on what the best mentors in my life have given me, the truth is it can be summarized in 3 C's: Counsel, Candor and Confidence.

Counsel

Every good mentor provides you with the counsel, advice and opportunities to grow and develop your skills.  Some of the most valuable mentoring I received came from just sitting across the desk of one of my bosses. I've never read a text book that could really show you the art of media relations -- the trust-building with reporters ... the artful back and forth negotiations ... the anticipation of issues and answers ... the careful choices of words. For several years, my boss would call me up to her office for a call with The Wall Street Journal or The New York Times. Sometimes I might be prepping her with background on the issue, but more often it was just the chance to sit across the desk, listen and learn.

I had another mentor who showed me the ropes when I transitioned to a new company with a very strong and distinct culture. She wasn't in public relations like me -- and to be honest there weren't a whole lot of PR people that she felt were real valuable -- but I was able  to gain her respect and trust with some good writing and strong work ethic. I remember the first time I had to convince one of the company's top executives -- her boss -- to take my advice about a press release. He was not easily convinced about my strategy and it was an early "make or break" moment in our relationship. My mentor took the time to listen to me, advise me on the best way to present myself and make my case to him, and she even put herself in my corner by giving her support.

A mentor's counsel can run from the simple advice about how to edit your latest speech -- "When in doubt, cut your first paragraph and get to the point." -- to the subtle advice on etiquette and corporate culture -- "Let the big executives get on the corporate jet first and then you get on, go to the back of the plane and stay quiet." It's those memorable and meaningful lessons that can make a huge difference in your career -- or at least help you avoid some embarrassing moments.

Candor

The best mentors have the ability to tell you the things others won't.  They care enough to be critics and to provide a candid view of what you need to know.

When I was still relatively young in my career, I was having trouble relating to a peer in our group, something I hadn't run into before. There was friction and tension between us and I just couldn't understand it. My mentor broke it to me, "the naive corporate kid": "Look, not everyone is going to like you, Bill. Not everyone wants to be your friend.  And not everyone is going to be happy about you doing a good job. That's not how it always works.  Figure it out. Deal with it."

Another time, I had decided to buy an electric razor and stop shaving with a blade (this was before today's stubble beards had become fashionable). After a few days, my mentor noticed a bit more of a five o'clock shadow, and she asked me, "What are you doing?" I told her I had gotten a new electric razor, blah, blah, blah. In her direct and subtle style, she said, "Yeah? Well it's not working.  Lose the razor and go shave."  Not everyone will be that candid with you.  Maybe just your mother -- and a good mentor.

Confidence

 And, the last thing a mentor gives you is confidence. They are your greatest champions. They know your strengths -- and weaknesses -- and they still believe in you.

There are times in your career when you might feel like you're not ready for the next job or jump up the career ladder. Or, you run into a boss or situation that turns out not to be the right fit. It's easy to have self-doubt in those situations. You wonder if you are out of your depth. When I was in one of those doldrums, I remember a mentor of mine calling me, giving me a pep talk and she said, 'Whatever you do, don't lose your confidence..." It was like she knew what I needed to hear.

It's at those times that the mentors who know you best can be your rock. They have counseled you over the years and seen you grow and perform. They have spoken candidly with you about where you needed to develop, and they have seen you change. They know your potential, your heart and your talent.  They have all the confidence in the world in you, even when you are doubting yourself.

I've been fortunate to have terrific mentors throughout my career who have helped me on my path. I hope I have thanked them and they know what they have meant to me. And as I get along in my career, I try to share with some other young "corporate kids" the counsel, candor and confidence they have so generously given me.

Coaching -- The greatest "hassle" you'll ever enjoy

"I just don't have the time." ... "There are plenty of parents who are more qualified than me." ... "Who needs all that extra hassle with practices, games and drama."

I said all of that when it came time to consider coaching my daughter's basketball team three years ago. Life and work were hectic.  I loved playing basketball, but had never really coached a team. And, there are always potential headaches and tension around bad calls, playing time, etc.

The truth is ... coaching Emma and her friends was the greatest "hassle" I ever enjoyed. As their 8th grade season ends this week, I reflected back on coaching the last three years and couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic.

A Great Experience

First, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to coach when the spot opened up three years ago. Not every parent has that chance. I was also incredibly lucky to work with a head coach and fellow father who was dedicated, experienced and good-hearted. We made it work.

It was very satisfying and rewarding to teach a game that I had been playing for 40 years.  It brought back so many memories and lessons about basketball and teamwork that I learned on the courts and gyms of my youth.

The girls were enthusiastic, respectful and upbeat. They gave the loudest cheers in the gym, "1-2-3-Assumption."  Always quick with a "thank you, Mr. Price" or a shocked look when they may have fouled the other team.

We never won more than a handful of games in a season, but our girls developed skills, had fun and learned how to play the game. To be honest, the other schools and teams were simply better. Over the years, we learned to savor the small victories -- a terrific pass, a made shot, a defensive stand and fighting to the end. I look back and see the progress each girl made, growing as players, as teammates and as young women, and I am so proud of them all.

Five Reasons to Coach Your Kids

For those parents who may be struggling with the decision to coach their kids, I would offer these benefits that you should never sell short:.

1. Show them "Coach," not "Dad" -- My daughter Emma got to see me in a very different light as Coach, not Dad -- even if just for a few hours a week. At home, I am the one hounding her about cleaning her room,... taking away her phone when she hasn't done her homework,... working on my computer at all odd hours of the night or weekend. At the gym, I was fun. Making jokes, running drills and smiling. Emma and I would tease each other, share laughs and have a special place where we could relate to each other in a whole different way.

2. Share Your Passion -- I love basketball! I have been playing since I was a little kid, and I still play today in regular pick-up games with friends. My kids knew how much I loved the game, but until they started playing it was hard for them to understand why. Emma and Tess both play now. They know why people get excited about a great play or the swish of a jumper. They appreciate all the hours of practice that go into improving your skills. When I drove Tess to her game a few weeks ago, she was telling me all about the defensive scheme they were being taught by her coach. I could hear her starting to grasp the game and have a passion for how the parts can come together when a team is working well.

3. Keep Fit and Have Fun --  As a coach, I loved practice. I didn't want to be passively barking orders from the sidelines or giving long lectures.  I was running around the court. Dribbling. Shooting. Showing them defensive stances. It was a workout and kept me energized. I had to stay in better shape, so I didn't embarrass myself racing up court -- or collapse during our defensive drill to Cotton-Eyed Joe. I also had so much fun seeing the pleased and proud look on their faces when they would make a steal, hit a shot and win a game.  They always made me chuckle and smile in their own goofy, girly ways.

4. Meet their Friends -- It's always been hard for parents to get a glimpse into their kids lives and know their friends. When I was a kid in Jersey City, your friends were all in the neighborhood and you called the house or rang the doorbell to ask if "Jimmy could come out to play." Nowadays, the only people who call my home phone are my parents and telemarketers. It's harder to know who your kids are spending time with and what is going on in their lives. Spending a few hours with Emma and her friends every week gave me a glimpse into their world, a better perspective on what mattered to them, and a greater appreciation for their problems and concerns. I would always ask them what they thought was working in practice ... what did they like ... what did we need to work on. I think they were surprised that I asked what they thought and also that I listened.

5. Precious Time -- The greatest regret most parents have is, "I wish I could spend more time with my kids." Well, if you're lucky enough to coach their teams, you get that time commitment. You have the drive time to games, weekly practices, pizza party celebrations, etc. You also have a common interest and topic that you can talk about -- something that isn't schoolwork or why they torture their sister.

Hassles Can Be Treasures Once Unwrapped

Emma will be moving onto high school next year and probably won't be playing basketball.  Tess has a great, committed set of dads coaching her 6th grade team already.  And, Will is still young and a wild card, not sure if sports are for him. My coaching run may be over... but the memories and bonds over basketball will never end -- not for me and I hope not for them either. Emma and her friends taught me a lot about coaching, parenting and "hassles" that are truly treasures once unwrapped.