Thursday, October 30, 2008
Thank you. My pleasure.
"And $1.34 is your change."
"Can I get some more Dr. Pepper?
"Would you like some help with your tray to your table?"
"That would be great. Thank you."
"Please drive around to the first window."
That's just a sampling of conversations I've had with people that work at Chick-Fil-A, arguably the nicest collection of well-groomed fast-food employers on the planet.
Notice a trend?
Apparently the company has a policy that whenever a customer says "thank you" the employee is required to say "my pleasure." How nice. Seriously. How nice is that? Recall the last time you went to McDonald's and the 18-year-old high school drop out is standing behind the counter and giving you that look.
Oh, c'mon. You know the look.
The one that says, "Oh my gosh. What do you want? My break is in, like, 17 minutes and 38 seconds. You better make this quick and don't ask me any hard questions." Yeah, that look.
You don't get those at Chick-Fil-A. You get "my pleasures!" Keep your kid meal toys. This is good enough for me.
Sure, the sandwich is simple. Warm, sometimes scalding hot, chicken in between two pieces of white bread bun. Pure, simple goodness. Throw in some waffle fries and a brownie and you are this close to seeing the light come from the parted clouds and a voice beckoning you to come home.
Now topping it off, you get a "My pleasure" after every "thank you."
GLORIOUS! Cue the angel's singing.
Don't believe me? Try it. Go to your nearest Chick-Fil-A and try it. Heck, get greedy. Get stupid with it.
Try different variations of "Thank you." See what you get. See if you can get the well-groomed teenager to crack under pressure.
What happens if you say:
Thank you, infinity.
Thank you so much.
I just want to say thanks.
Thanks a million!
(In a very depressed voice) Thanks, I guess.
Oh this is my order? Oh, thanks.
Try it. You'll probably email me and say, "Justin, you are right. That is awesome! Thank you."