真实才有可能独特

    14岁时我在乡村高尔夫俱乐部当球童。在沙粒遍地的夏日，为有钱人扛了一天的高尔夫球包后，骑车回家的我总是又累又饿。在路上，我经常在镇中心停下来吃点东西。

    “Little Louie”是个简单到不能再简单的热狗摊，其实就是我们镇公园对面一幢简陋木质建筑中的一小间。走过吱嘎作响的纱门，你就会发现自己进了一间让人憋闷的屋子。那里拥挤而吵闹，而且很热，还有点儿让人不知所措。让人憋闷是因为这间屋子太小，就算只有两个人，也没办法脚对脚躺下；拥挤和吵闹是因为无论到了极点，总有人在等吃的；很热是因为嗡嗡作响的空调通常只吹热风；让人不知所措是因为人们并不会真的按次序排成一队来点餐。老旧的木头柜台前面就像一个竞技场。

    墙上，照片和签名组成了奇怪的图案，还有不知什么原因写在纸盘子上的菜名，几十年来一直用钉子定在那里。如果你初来乍到又点了鲁宾三明治，那就等着老天爷来帮你吧，这种东西他们一年到头可能也只卖过两个。

    第一次叫东西吃的人会感到紧张。就像我说的那样，人们不排队。相反，饥肠辘辘的顾客都挤作一团，充满期待地抬着头，就像嗷嗷待哺的幼鸟那样看着柜台后面的两个大个子——卢和埃迪。他们穿着有些褪色的白围裙，都兴高采烈，不过也都有点儿脾气。他们好像乐于让给人找别扭。他们背后是用来炸东西的大桶以及几个受苦受难的高中生，他们的暑假就这样淹没在了滚滚热浪和蒸汽之中。

    埃迪或者卢会随手指向某位顾客。当他们中的一个指着你的时候，你必须想好要吃什么。只要迟疑一、两秒钟，他们的手指就会迅速移向另一位更有准备的顾客，这种做法让很多人都觉得“很受伤”。

    轮到我的时候，我会大喊“热狗，不要香芹粉，薯条，还有一杯可乐。”要想吃东西，你就得说简单一点儿，而且声音要大。这样，我就会拿到自己的晚餐——一包油糊糊的薯条，油渍能一直渗到棕色纸袋的最底层；一个草草包起来的热狗，毫无章法地放在薯条上；还有一杯可乐，装可乐的杯子上随随便便印着某家快餐店的名字和标识，但绝不会是Little Louie。他们觉得自己不需要建立什么品牌，所以就买了其他快餐店的多余纸杯。

    拿到吃的以后，我就会带着油渍四溢的纸袋走到街对面，坐在镇公园的大橡树下享受我的晚餐。

    可能会有人觉得奇怪，他们的生意为什么会这么好，从早到晚顾客都川流不息，而且天天如此。他们有什么秘诀呢？嗯，东西很好吃，这肯定是个有利因素。就餐环境显然不好，服务也不怎么样。

    我相信，他们的秘诀就在于真实，不装模作样。他们根本不打算弄出一个高大的形象。对许多公司来说，这样做可能行不通，但对卢和埃迪来说这样做生意很奏效。

    所有的企业都可以从中汲取经验。无论你对外界展现什么样的面貌——无论是丽思卡尔顿酒店（Ritz-Carlton）高度个性化的服务和优雅的格调，苹果公司（Apple）以用户为中心的产品，还是Little Louie快捷而又实实在在的热狗和薯条——只要你展示的是真正的自我，你就有可能变得与众不同。

    想愚弄员工和顾客，假扮成另外一副模样，你的公司终有一天会自食其果。（财富中文网）

    译者：Charlie  

    When I was 14, I worked as a caddy at the local country club. After carrying the golf bags of some rich folks through a gritty summer day, I’d bike home tired and hungry. On the way, I’d often stop at a place in the middle of my hometown to grab a bite.

    Little Louie’s was a “hole in the wall” hotdog place. It was, in essence, a small room within a rundown wooden building across from the town park. When you walked in through the creaky screen door, you found yourself in a claustrophobic, crowded space that was noisy, too hot and a little confusing. Claustrophobic because the room would be too small for two people to lay end-to-end.Crowded and noisy because, well there were always customers waiting to grab a bite, regardless of the hour of day. Too hot because the rattling air conditioning unit was usually blowing out hot air. And confusing since people didn’t really line up in an orderly fashion to order their food. Instead it was almost a little mosh pit in front of the old wooden counter.

    On the walls were a strange mix of photos and signs, along with an array of menu items written for some reason, on paper plates that had been stapled up sometime in the last couple decades. God help you if you were a newcomer and ordered a Rueben sandwich; they probably sold two a year.

    The ordering process instilled fear in first-timers. For as I said, there was no line. Instead, it was a small mass of hungry people, who would look up expectantly, like baby birds, at one of the two big guys behind the counter in the white, slightly stained aprons – Lou or Eddie. Both were happy enough. But each had an edge to his personality. They seemed to delight in making people uncomfortable. Behind them were the deep-fry vats and several harried high-school kids who slaved their summers away in the heat and steam.

    When either Eddie or Lou would point at you, in no particular order, you needed to have your request ready. If, as many found out to their detriment, you were to hesitate for a second or two, the pointed finger would quickly move to another, more prepared patron.

    For my part, I’d yell out “hot dog, no celery salt, fries and a coke.” Keep it simple and project your voice if you wanted your food. With that, a scoop of French fries, dripping grease, would be flung into the bottom of a plain brown paper bag, a quickly wrapped hot dog would be unceremoniously flung directly on top. The coke would be dispensed into a cup bearing the name and logo of any of a number of fast-food restaurants, but not Little Louie’s. They didn’t see much need in branding themselves, and would purchase overruns from other establishments.

    With that, I would stroll with my grease-stained bag across the street, sit under the large oaks in the park and enjoy my meal.

    One might wonder why this place was so successful, a constant flow of customers throughout each and every day. What was the secret? Well, the food was good; that always helps. And it clearly wasn’t the ambience of the place, or the high-touch, caring service.

    The secret, I believe, is that it was real. There was no pretense. They didn’t try to project an image that they were anything more than what they were. It’s not a reality that would work for many businesses, but it worked for Louie and Eddie.

    The lesson applies to every business. Whatever face you present to the world – the ultra-personal service and elegance at a Ritz-Carlton, user-focused products of Apple, or the quick, honest hot dog and fries of a Little Louie’s – if it’s part of who you really are, you have a chance to become something special.

    Try to fool your employees and customers that you are something you’re not, and your business will suffer the consequences.