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Two very different types of good experience (and Cipriani)
Sometimes the line between "good" and "bad" experiences is blurry. For example, the New York Times reviews Cipriani, a high-end Fifth Avenue restaurant:
Despite scorching reviews, high prices and recent guilty pleas by Cipriani family members to tax evasion charges, people still return, faithful to the $19.95 bellini (white peach juice and prosecco), the $31.95 hamburger and the $55.95 veal Milanese.
In the brutal New York restaurant business, competitors to Harry Cipriani open every year — serving better food at more reasonable prices and catering to patrons with slavish care and roomier seating — and promptly go out of business.
So how does Cipriani not just stay in business, but thrive? One pundit suggests that the bad experience itself helps sustain the place.
"It's as if there is some perverse director who has constructed a place that pushes the customers to extremes," Ms. Bradley said, "to see how much they will pay for bad food, to watch them wait in front of an audience even if they have a reservation. It's a place where people are treated badly, and it is set up so that you also get to see how funny it is to watch other people watch you being treated badly."
The answer is that it isn't all a bad experience. Cipriani's customers are there because they want something very specific: just to be around their own type, New York market makers and celebrities. Service, food quality, and prices have very little to do with the desired experience. So when a new restaurant opens with great food and comfy chairs, but no celebrities, it fails to attract that customer type.
New York insiders who are in such a hurry to gain more capital (political, social, financial) want this narrow experience, because it delivers the goods - even at the expense of all the other elements "normal" people might look for in a restaurant.
Contrast this with Danny Meyer, the top-rated New York restaurateur, who succeeds in exactly the opposite way: he creates an integrated, authentic good experience for his customers. (See the Good Experience profile of Danny Meyer or watch the video clip of Danny at Gel 2007.) I've been to every one of Danny's New York restaurants and have been happy about every single one of them: the spirit of hospitality infuses the entire experience.
So we see two different types of successful experiences:
• the narrow experience, which focuses all its resources on one thing that (certain) customers really want. This, of course, takes resources away from other elements, creating a lopsided outcome that only appeals to certain people at certain times. It's a risky strategy in the long run.
• the integrated experience, which tries to deliver quality in multiple aspects. This is harder and often takes longer to accomplish, but it creates a strong foundation for long-term success. Hedgehogs generally do well here.
Personally, I usually prefer the integrated good experiences, since they "gel" many different things and I like Gel - but obviously, seeing the Cipriani approach, it's not for everyone.
P.S. One other element of Cipriani's success, bizarrely, may be its overly inflated prices. This Economist article (reg. may be required) cites studies suggesting that people enjoy overpriced things in part because they've paid so much for them.
That's interesting. I love what Danny Meyer tries to do and, being from Chicago, would probably not even consider Cipriani, but it's definitely a unique experience. I mention a similar dynamic on www.irrationalcustomer.com - a greasy, crowded hot dog shack of my youth where the service was outright rude, the food mediocre, and the business thrived. The lesson seems to be: for a successful business, don't just apply "logic" to the experience you create.
I love the comments on the restaurant experiences, and agree with the two good experience definitions... That said, there's a different perspective.
Cipriani's is not necessarily viewed as a restaurant by those who love it. Sure, there's food served, but it's value is greater as a venue to see, be seen, mingle, etc. So why even bother with rating in on a restaurant score card?
Much like folks congregating in a kitchen during a dinner party, it's where the conversations happen. The kitchen offers fewer chairs, less comfort, etc. than many well-appointed dining rooms... yet folks end up leaning on counters and trying to avoid piles of dirty dishes.
Let's consider Cipriani's vs. various celebrity events (also see/be seen venues): don't need an invitation, other VIPs likely to be there, etc. On this scorecard, Cipriani's may be delivering quite a broad good experience.
Reminds me of my dining experience years ago in Boston's Durgin Park Restaurant, which was known more for its callous treatment of its customers than the quality of the food (which actually was very good). People who dined there probably would have preferred a tee shirt saying, "I survived Durgin Park," rather than one saying,"I had a great steak at Durgin Park." Sort of a badge of honor thing.
The "Chivas Regal effect" is also at play here, as demonstrated in the wine-tasting article in the Economist.
Both of these factors appeal to the type of person who is more concerned about what others think of them than they are about getting true quality for their money.
Studies mentioned in the Economist article reminded me of this old joke:
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Dialog of two nouveau-riches met on the street:
-- How much did you pay for that nice necktie of yours?
-- $1,000. Spent entire day looking for a good price all around the city!
-- You're such a loser! You should've asked me first. I know a small store around the corner: they sell the very same ties for $2,000!!
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This joke was very popular in Russia soon after Perestroyka begot thousands of so-called "new Russians" - rare breed of people literally having too much money on their hands.
It is just a joke, but I bet you can bump into real people like these anytime and everywhere.
Ridiculously high prices as one of the key elements of good experience... Is it a joke? I don't think so.
This phenomenon seems to be a classic example of "Cognitive Dissonance" in action, where people try to balance their behavior with their beliefs. Going to and attending this restaurant requires a significant "behavioral cost" on the part of the user (eg. exorbitant cost, difficulty in reservations, putting up with outrages service, etc.) According to CD theory, either our behavior must change to match our beliefs, or our beliefs must change to match our behavior. So why would someone believe this restaurant experience to be so great? Because they expended the outrageous behavior to do it, and therefore had to change their beliefs to justify it.
Would you go expend this behavioral cost and then tell everyone that this was the worst restaurant in the world? Of course not!