Craig Menzies 2.0

The word “dysfunctional” gets thrown around a lot these days. Random House (via Dictionary.com) has this to say on the matter:

dys – func – tion [dis-fuhngk-shuhn]
–noun

1. Medicine/Medical. malfunctioning, as of an organ or structure of the body.
2. Any malfunctioning part or element: the dysfunctions of the country’s economy.
3. Sociology. a consequence of a social practice or behavior pattern that undermines the stability of a social system.
4. Abnormal or impaired functioning, especially of a bodily system or social group.

It’s the last of the definitions that seems to be the most popular, particularly referring to a dysfunctional family. But, when people talk about their dysfunctional families, it seems there is almost always a sort of cuteness or quirkyness about it. Like “…my Mother is always nagging me and calling at the most inopportune times, and my brother never turns up at family dinners. We’re so dysfunctional.” And, the more people you hear talking about their families this way, the more you start to wonder if, actually, cutely dysfunctional is more or less the norm (that is, to say, very different from “acutely dysfunctional”).

The thing is, with this kind of dysfunction, there is also the suggestion that there is still love there, there is still affection and good reasons to keep chipping away at the dysfunction. There is still value to be had, emotional or otherwise.

So, now I’m going to get to the point of all this academic chit-chat.

Maybe this phrase has been coined elsewhere, but I am increasingly of the opinion that most big retail out there (and by “out there” I am referring the UK high street) is highly dysfunctional. What is “Dysfunctional Retail“? Here’s an example by way of explanation:

I recently went into business as a sole trader. Once I had confirmed my first paying client, I went into the market to buy my first “business laptop.” I had always been provided a computer in my former positions, and never really had much of a say in the type of computer I was provided – as a long suffering, card-carrying geek and all around technophile, this has always sort of offended me. So, the purchase of my first laptop for my own business was a decision laden, nay heaving, with emotional attachment.

I, like most Internet shoppers, have my first ports of call. Mine? Amazon, eBuyer, Play.com (see my publication on the UK Customer Experience Index), and PC World. Each has their own strengths… But you will perhaps note that the only real bricks and mortar brand on my list is PC World. It is no coincidence that my favourite PC World in London also happens to be at the end of the longest stretch of electonics shops in the free world (I have nothing whatsoever to back up this statement… but there are lots and lots of shops on Tottenham Court Road all, seemingly, selling identical merchandise at varying levels of aggressive merchandising). It is a comparison shoppers paradise, second only to the Internet.

But, buying a laptop is a tricky business. Especially when your primary purchase criteria is something slightly unorthodox. In my case, it was weight. Having had more than my share of back troubles, I long ago learned that the difference between a 2.5kg laptop and a 1.5kg laptop could be several days off work after a long-haul flight, followed by the now common mile-long death marches from the gate to the baggage check. And, when I say “days off work”, what I really mean is working recumbent on the sofa, with the same laptop perched on your knees… in my business, “sick” translates roughly to “working from home”.

Figure 1: “Not specified” doesn’t make for an easy or useful comparison. It just annoys people. It’s also one of their most expensive laptops!

Let’s start by saying this: PC World’s Web site is terrible. Really really godawful. I hope someone at PC World (the Dixon Retail Group or DRG for the sake of search engines) reads this. Please please admit you have a problem and get some help! Totally dysfunctional, in the first dictionary meaning above. It was just plain bad, giving incorrect information (for example, listing a laptop as both a 13.3 inch and 15 inch screen), items in wrong categories, confusing pricing information, etc (it’s a long list of problems – all, ironically, easily remedied). And yet, despite these problems, I found myself buying not one, but three laptops. Two through their Web site (both returned at the cost of PC World), and finally, one in the store. And I was deliriously happy with my purchase, even though every inch of my body recoiled at the terrible customer experiences I endured (and, as a former Customer Experience analyst and a grumpy old man, I am very finely attuned to this sort of thing).

My point is this: I was willing to endure all the obstacles PC World put in my way, obstacles like a phone customer services representative who told me an item was not available, only for it to arrive by post after a Web site order, a long disorganized queue to pick up my pre-reserved order at the shop, an ordering desk that looked like it had hosted a drunken dinner party, a store manager who would not let me see the unit I was about to purchase before I paid for it… I endured these obstacles because I really really wanted what they had to offer, and I knew I was getting good value.

My relationship with PC World is utterly dysfunctional. I really hate them sometimes, they consistently frustrate and annoy me, and yet I keep going back because I ultimately find some value there. But I don’t like doing it. Not at all. And consequently I spend a lot less there than I could… A LOT less.

So, PC World, are you reading this? Ask yourself the following question: how much better do you think your business would be doing if you tried to do something about your dysfunction?

CM