Whenever we travel to the annual bike expo or other industry events, we have an opportunity to better ourselves by attending workshops on variety of topics, from business finance, advocacy, industry trends, staff training, to merchandising. Because we have attended many such events over the past fifteen years, and have seen many of the same speakers, we know which workshops we can safely skip. We know which speakers address primarily the concerns of shops located in suburban shopping malls. We know which ones think of bikes as simply expensive toys or trophies. We know who thinks of bike shop staff as a bunch of body-pierced underachievers, and of customers as gullible suckers to be picked up by their ankles and shaken free of their money.
And then, there are those workshops which somehow manage to help us learn something new, no matter how many times we attend them. Workshops like Brett Flemming's on optimizing the operation of the bicycle service department. Brett himself runs the service department of a large six store operation in Portland, OR, called the Bike Gallery. I know he will hate me for telling you about him, because he is one of the most modest and unassuming people I have ever met. But, if you want to know more about him and his accomplishments, you can click here.
There are so many reasons I like Brett as a spokesman for the profession of bicycle mechanics. He has clearly been one for many years, and has the bike grease under his fingernails to prove it. Consequently, there is never a hint of condescension in his tone. Indeed, he is passionate about raising the profile of bike mechanics everywhere, and often talks of belonging to a "noble profession".
And, maybe most importantly, after many years in the bike industry, I feel his views on the whole affair are very closely aligned with mine. At the beginning of some of his presentations, he will say: "At this point in the game, I just don't care much about bikes. I care about what bikes do for people. I care about what they do for our customers, and I care about what they can do for us. It's an awesome, virtuous business to be in, the bicycle business." As we sat around in our living room a couple of months ago, watching this presentation on video with some of our staff, I realized that we had to get Brett into our store.
And here he is. Sitting on one of our display bikes, busily taking notes. Taking notes on us, on who we are, and what excites us about bicycles. "Anything, anything at all," he nods encouragingly.
And we go around the circle, one and all, mechanics, sales people, managers, and we too, the owners, answering the question. And, remarkably, it turns out that what excites us is not the "stuff". Some of us are excited by the freedom that bikes offer: freedom to travel, freedom from fees and taxes, freedom from gas, autonomy to move whenever fancy strikes. Others describe it as a continuation of a more sustainable and responsible urban life. Other like the simplicity of bikes, and their adaptability for various types of use. Still others love to hear peoples' stories, solving problems, and being let in on customers' secrets of why they bike, or why they don't and why they would like to, and being part of helping them realize those dreams.
On the surface, we spent those hours with Brett discussing systems. How to write up repair tickets more effectively. How to prepare more thorough and accurate estimates. How to schedule repairs and arrange the service area to maximize efficiency and minimize turn-around time, while maintaining quality control. We also talk about customer relations. We share stories of drawing out reluctant customers. Of diffusing potentially tense situations. Of the dangers of making assumptions or drawing conclusions before we've asked some key questions. We even talk about appearances. Why is it important to put a bike in the stand before proceeding with an estimate. Should mechanics' area be visible, or invisible to the customers. And why we should remove scotch tape from our windows.
But what we're really talking about is more visceral. And here, I think, is the answer to the question Brett repeatedly asked me and Chris before he left: have I provided value? We have felt from the beginning, even before he arrived, that the value would only partially come from the advice and the wisdom of experience from many years of running a successful operation. We had hoped that the real value would come from our staff rallying around the idea of making Rapid Transit better.
We had not quite counted on the degree to which Brett intuitively recognized the intrinsic value and quality of our staff, and fell into step with them. Our exchange validated the work that we do as being worthwhile. It gave credence to the idea that it is OK not to be indifferent, but to care genuinely about both the work you do, and the person you're doing it for. It allowed us to see that in helping our customers fulfill their dreams, we are, along with Brett, building a useful, valued and noble profession.
