200 Calories (lower nutritional value with insult)

My darling husband is standing in front of a pastry counter late at night in the Neighborhood Wallyworld and side-glances at the equally exasperated guy next to him.

"Weren't you just behind me at the Krispy Kreme?" the guy says to him.

"Yea, quite an experience, wasn't it?"

"Yep."

Silence while both resume forlorn contemplation of the depleted array of 18-hour-old donuts.

I heard about this exchange after Michael returned to the car with what we had to settle for as our treat after several hours of sanding away at the 50+ years of paint on the kitchen cabinets in my late parents’ house. It's a miracle that the walls there never met since additional coats of paint were regularly reapplied to these cabinets but none were ever removed. (The fact that we've struck wood after a couple of weeks' work is a surprise and relief to us both.) We're renovating now, and when you go through that many layers of white-yellow-white-cream-orange-white-etc., it doesn't matter how evolved you are, you need treats.

So Michael offered me Krispy Kreme. My hero.

I can remember when Krispy Kreme first opened in Arlington, and there were lines blocking traffic on South Cooper. The donuts were hot. The personnel delivered service with a smile and a retro flair true to their calorific roots. Families stood in line to watch the donuts sizzle and glide through the deep fat and the white curtain of sugar glaze. The whole thing was an EXPERIENCE.

While we'd gotten over the newness, the treat quotient to the donut itself hadn't faded, so we headed there in spite of the hour to recapture that experience of friendly service and the self-indulgent sugar rush. We were putting down our money to buy that pat on the head that said we'd done well. We pulled up to the window and smiled at one another. Nothing. We waited, wiping the paint dust off our faces in anticipation. Nothing. Michael tapped gingerly on the take-out window. There was a pause, then a young woman walked to the window, opened it, and said the following:

"We got nothing. NOTHING."

Window slams shut.

Could you just weep?

You may remember along with me the little fiasco of publicity surrounding the Krispy Kreme expansion and stock price droop in the face of Atkins diet mania awhile back. The company rallied to defend their brand, but surely, nobody thinks there's a lot of positive to be said about donuts in terms of nutritional value, in spite of the fact that they publish it these days (http://www.krispykreme.com/nutri.html), so what do they think they're selling here?

It's the experience, guys, and nobody's looking to have more doors slammed in their faces these days!

I wish that I could report that this is an unusual occurrence, but it would not be true. Too often, companies spend gazillons on advertising then populate their prime advertising space - the people on the front lines of their businesses - with surly, under qualified (and thus unhappy), unsupervised people who don't even know they're in the business of selling. In an economy where you can get your cellphone in any flavor and your clothes from any continent with the click of a mouse, where services of every type come and go faster than their business cards can be printed, it's important to remember that everybody's selling and that it's the experience that brings the customer back to you or convinces them to seek abroad. It won't be hard for them to find an alternative.

I lay this more at the feet of management than anywhere else. After all, they're paid to be the official smart people. As a revered former acquaintance would have said, "If you're going to run the company, then run it."

That means paying attention, day by day, to the experience you're responsible for providing. Whether you're a large operation or a solopreneur, your customer needs to be able to rely on the fact that interacting with you is going to be a great thing. They need to have a consistent sense that they can go to you to get the smile back on their face.

Or they'll look elsewhere.