A few years ago, one of the other trade publications ran an editorial suggesting it was time to end the practice of offering free golf to colleagues from other courses. I was never sure if the piece was a serious call for changing the way we do business or a ploy to get attention by being intentionally controversial. Anyway, both the outcry over the idea and the magazine died soon thereafter and we went back to the age-old notion of offering complimentary or heavily discounted rounds to others in our happy little industry.
I admit that I’ve been the beneficiary of this practice hundreds (thousands?) of times at fine courses around the nation. Between being a journalist (ha!) and having many friends (ha again!) in the business, it’s relatively rare for me to reach into my pocket for anything other than a business card when I walk into a pro shop. But, occasionally I like to visit a facility incognito (which is Latin for “sloppily dressed”), plop down my cash and just go play with no fanfare, no stopping to chat with the GM or super and no pressure on the first tee.
In short, I like to be a secret shopper and check out how some facilities treat the average schmuck off the street. Here are a few observations and experiences from the last few times I’ve done it.
The Good: At one mom-and-pop daily fee, the nice lady at the counter told me (before I paid) they were running 20 minutes behind schedule on the 1st tee because an outing had started a little late. Did I mind? she asked. Here’s a small bucket of balls and a cold bottle of water with our apologies for the delay, she said. That’s goooood.
The Bad: At a mid-scale public, I paid my fee and bought a new glove. When I got out to the range, I discovered that the glove was way too small (apparently someone had tried on several gloves and put this one back in the wrong package). So, I returned to the shop to switch it. The process, if you can call it that, took 15 minutes and involved lots of bar codes and scanning and changing of receipts – even though I just wanted the exact same glove in the right size. The assistant shirt-folder behind the counter engaged in much eye-rolling and heavy sighs. In short, I was treated as a nuisance, not as a customer who had a problem that the shop had essentially caused. I won’t go back there again. That’s baaaaaad.
The Ugly: At an $80+ daily fee, I got to the 1st tee and was greeted by a starter who promptly informed us that we’d be playing a temporary green on a back-nine hole because “the idiot greenskeeper managed to kill the real green.” I coyly asked him what the “greenskeeper” had done and he said, “I don’t have a clue, but I don’t understand how he can be so bad and still get paid so much.” I cringed, of course, but we played on. When we got to the temporary green hole, I stopped and asked the young guy overseeing the crew working on the damaged green. He told me they’d had drainage problems on the green from day one and had finally convinced the contractor to pay for repairs. I told him what the starter said and he cringed. That’s ugggggly.
My point is that as a superintendent, general manager or owner, the perceptions created by those who might seem like the smallest links in the customer service chain might have the biggest impact. Why don’t you institute your own secret shopper program? Just find a few acquaintances that don’t play at your place regularly and offer to reimburse them for golf and lunch if they come out, check the place out and feed their thoughts about the experience back to you. You might be surprised – pleasantly or not – by what you find out. GCI