This afternoon around 16h00 I received a call from the restaurant I dined at last night.
At risk of writing a restaurant review on a blog about marketing, it has to be mentioned that Geisha Wok and Noodle Bar in Mouille Point is one of those truly remarkable dining experiences Capetonians always brag about. Everything from the flavourful sushi and little red ceramic pouring pots for the soya sauce to the generous noodle dishes and shimmering walls create an atmosphere of true cosmopolitan bliss. No actual Geisha included.
About the call:
At first I was not quite sure what to make of the friendly lady on the other side of the line, but it soon dawned on me that this was a carefully planned, professionally executed CRM-exercise, filled with questions about their service, their atmosphere and even leaving space for suggestions. (I used this moment to criticize the elaborate yet disappointing wine list.) How nice of them to call.
Now look, I love Geisha – its a fantastic restaurant and I take people there as often as I can. But if this was Summerville or The Dros (which I loathe) calling, would I have felt the same? Would I have felt like an old friend rang me up? NO. Why? The smart people at Geisha clearly have not read any of Seth Godin‘s books. Why do these people think that it would be fine to bother an otherwise perfectly happy patron, at four in the afternoon with pesky questions about a night that is long forgotten in the stress and sweat of another day at the office? Who gave them permission to ring me up without letting me know first? Would you give out your number to a restaurant (or anyone!) if you knew that they will abuse the privilege?
I ended up giving the friendly lady my e-mail address. If need be, I told her, she can give a Geisha permission to write me letters, but rather leave the phone on the hook next time.