Anyone who grew up in upstate New York (the real upstate, not Poughkeepsie) knows the true value of Wegmans, one of the best supermarket chains in the world. Years ago, I worked in the deli department for a short time, so I understand firsthand why Wegmans is revered. Beyond its multitude of quality offerings that other stores may provide, a culture of service is central, vital and vibrantly alive.
I drove to New Jersey this week when I discovered a Wegmans had opened nearly a year ago. In the parking lot, I texted my sister (living in the real upstate) a picture to prove I’d made it to grocery Mecca. Inside, I was suitably overstimulated by expanse and variety in a kind of culture shock. I meandered with my small cart, acclimating to the ambiance, then set off to find one of two items most important to my pilgrimage—organic almond butter. Wegmans sells its own store name brand for $9.99. I know! Granted it’s roasted, not raw, but this is half the price of any other brand.
In the nut butter aisle, the shelf was completely empty. I’d driven a distance, so I thought it worth checking at the customer service desk to see if there was more. I was greeted politely, signed up for a store discount card cheerfully, and my inquiry on almond butter was received with sincere interest.
Here’s where the word service begins to be redefined. The employee makes a phone call, talks to another worker, asks if I tried aisle 2B, then walks me all the way back to the shelf location. Seeing my conundrum, she takes a picture of the product shelf label bar code on her phone, and asks me to wait right there while she personally goes into the back to check incoming supplies.
Two minutes later I hear her talking to a man who’s describing another location in the store. Where’s the customer? he asks. She leans into my aisle—smiling—and waves me forward, saying come with me. We walk to an end cap in natural foods where, top to bottom, jars of smooth and crunchy are perfectly arranged. Waving her hand across the display, she adds this can all be yours, if the price is right. I delightedly thank her; place six jars into my cart; and, head to the meat section.
But the service isn’t over! As I peruse beef packages on a plentiful wall of organic meats, my phone rings. This is Ennea from Customer Service, she says. You left your coupons and Menu magazine at the customer service desk. Would you like them? From a mildly stunned state, I mutter that I’ll be happy to swing back around.
Ennea’s tone of service was simple, decent, human courtesy with a touch of playfulness that persisted until the job was complete. How many of us can say we serve like that? Just a great example of what’s possible for the holidays, and beyond.