INTERACTIONAL TRANSACTIONS

By now, it’s apparent that we shop … or, at least, spend lots of time in visual retail contemplation.

[That’s online and off, if it matters.]

So we creatures of habit were slightly intrigued by Square CEO Jack Dorsey’s suggestion that we do more with purchase receipts than stuff them in shopping bags.  Others have followed up on that recommendation, with ideas ranging from talking receipts to those that extend the conversation via tone, brand, and voice.

Notice we said “slightly.”  Those little pieces of paper are, in our hands, annoying; we collect them in one place, then file for the annual IRS drudgery (and accountants’ delight).  If we belong to a frequent buyers’ club, we’ll note the points – and, perhaps, the rewards.  Then crumple them up.  Other than that, they’re a legally required nuisance mandated for all U.S. retailers.

What would it take for us to pay attention to our transaction?  Here are a few of our brainy-isms:

• Make it pretty.  Seriously, we’re like magpies, attracted to glitz and glitter.
• Make it useful.  That might include an embedded chip or flash drive, ready to input into our QuickBooks or waveaccounting or other records management.  [Then again, there’d probably be an upcharge for this … ]
• Make it memorable.  Gift cards, especially from the majors, are usually well packaged.  Tiffany’s lovely blue box, Starbucks’ pick-your-own plastics, Neiman’s always-smart ‘you’ve got a gift’:  Why not the receipt?

Or:  We’d easily be swayed to go the other way, giving our salespeople a memory stick and asking them to upload our receipts.  Period.

Too much brand conversation is, at times, simply too much brand talk.

WE QUEUE. DO YOU?

Darn:  Got in the wrong check-out line!

If you’re like us, chances are you’ve got a litany of to-dos (or not) when trying to cash out at a store.  Look for female cashiers.  Get behind those with less than half-full carts.  Avoid shoppers with kids.  Re-jigger the number of items to qualify for the Express Lane.

Do these strategies work?  Not always.  So it should come as no surprise that brick-and-mortar retailers have made this a science, beginning with Little’s Law (calculating the wait of a particular line) and, perhaps, concluding with PayPal’s latest product, Beacon, recognizing your smartphone the minute you enter a store.

[Okay, we do shop online.  But, somehow, Peapod just doesn’t get our produce right.]

Our point is the waiting.  Once you hit three minutes, experts tell us, the perception of wait time multiplies exponentially.  And patience isn’t our strong suit.  If the queue takes too long, we’ll most probably abandon our purchases, mumble under our breaths about the store, and leave pronto.

Imagine, then, working with a team or a function or an enterprise during times of change.  Say, undergoing an acquisition, when the deal itself might be moving at lightning speed, but the information isn’t.  That wait time will be interminable for employees who don’t know their status, where they’ll be sitting, and/or what they’ll be doing.  Granted, there are good and legal reasons for not releasing the information.  On the other hand, it’s also humane to, at the very least, give workers an idea of the process, the calendar, and a wide swath of times when decisions will be made and communicated.  Broadcasting factual information regularly mutes the gossip and discontent, and psychologically lessens the waiting time.

Then again it’s nice to linger by the “impulse buys” aisle …

GET LOST! IT'S OUR PLEA

It had to happen:  Some tech entrepreneur developed a smartphone app that not only shows individual store floor plans, but also, when interacting with other apps, will re-create your shopping list in the form of a store map, routing you to the best and fastest way to hunt and gather.

And it’s all in the guise of great – and differentiated – customer service.

Hmmm:  We beg to differ.                   

For those in a hurry to amass food and other products, this kind of mapping makes sense.  After all, who’s got time (chefs excluded) to slowly examine a head of Boston lettuce or closely scrutinize the freshness of leeks?  Even consumer goods, like Nike shoes or a Tahari sheath, can easily be plucked from their shelves or hangers when armed with a retail planner.

It’s also a boon for in-store pick-up, when you don’t have the bandwidth to putter or truly shop for the item you want.

Wait.  Isn’t retail all about visual cues, enticing us to stop, look, and handle – and dream?  What ever happened to the thrill of discovering, say, a new kind of organic snack or an out-of-the-world designer label while meandering through a confusing store layout?  Even brick-and-mortar bookstores, of which there are all too few, beg us to wander and browse, read a few pages, and fall in “like” with an author.  We can always order e-books.  But not discover a different writer or illustrator or magazine editor.

Sure, we’re all about navigational signals when we need to get somewhere – a corporate strategy, business goals, even directions to off- and in-sites.  Yet even when we’re so inclined to go straight and not deviate, isn’t there something infinitely human about getting lost?