Dear Eddie Bauer, Inc.:
Yours is one of only a handful of companies that I have felt
some enduring connection with and loyalty to as an adult consumer for the past
25 years. It is one of the few companies, along with Apple and John Deere, that
I would consider a personal “lifestyle brand” encapsulating my values and
aspirations. If my recent experience in your local store is any sign of things
to come, our relationship may be coming to an end.
I have long embraced the Eddie Bauer ethos of adventure,
outdoor living, and classic American style. I was delighted when your company
started producing home furniture and textiles (which graced our own home) in
the 90s. I was particularly impressed by your brief experiment of selling upscale
clothing under “AKA Eddie Bauer” brand, and still count the high-quality
garments I bought there among the most treasured in my portfolio.
It was difficult to watch the decline of your brand in the
marketplace, to witness the elimination of lines like furniture and “AKA” and
to see the once-expansive Eddie Bauer presence in our local mall shrink to a fraction
of its former glory.
Admittedly, I have shifted much of my shopping to online,
including the shopping I do with your brand. But today, I happened to go to the
mall with my adult daughter, and the colorful backpacks in the window caught our
attention, so we went in.
The first clerk who approached us gave the standard opening
pitch about the current sale items and the usual promise to help. We thanked
her and said we were just looking. We had browsed for only about a minute when
she stood in front of us again as if she had something to say, and asked again
if she could help. We again said, “No, thanks” and moseyed along.
Another minute passed, and we were intercepted by a second
clerk who repeated the special sale items (“gear”), gave us her name, and again
insisted we locate her if we had any questions. Again, we said thanks, but we’re
just looking. Another minute passed by, and she reappeared as we browsed the
clearance rack, and she gave us a long pitch for how a jacket I was looking at had
been tested by real mountain climbers. We attempted to ignore her, and when she
finally walked away, my daughter said, “Let’s get out of here.” And although I
wanted to browse some more, I had to agree the environment was distinctly
hard-sell, and we got out while we could.
I don’t know which customer-experience genius at
headquarters came up with this new push to be in the customer’s face every sixty
seconds, but this short-sighted decision to corner, harass, and push customers
into buying at regular, short intervals has turned me off to the Eddie Bauer
retail store experience forever.
Your high-pressure “constant contact” approach may work with
other people, but we are not the type of people you can sweet-talk or bully into
buying. In fact, the only circumstance under which we might buy is if we are
free to explore on our own and determine which items meet our needs without
anyone shadowing us, almost acting is if they think we’re shoplifting. (My daughter,
back from a year of study in Europe, said it almost felt as if she was back in
Morocco with smarmy street vendors and obnoxious storekeepers pressuring the
Americans to buy. Way to turn off not just late-middle-age men, but the next generation of your buyers at the same time!)
I realize your brand went through bankruptcy and changed
owners a few years ago, and your new management may now be manically obsessed with
increasing revenue per store to avoid repeating the financial problems of your
past. However, your decision to harass customers with a hard-sell approach is
foolish and will ultimately result in more shoppers being driven online and missing
out on the experience of touching and trying on items that only live shopping
can achieve. When a customer says, “I’m just looking,” don’t forget that they’re
also looking for a reason to never darken your doorway again.
I am posting this letter on my consumer-affairs blog for
anyone searching for your brand to find. I will be happy to post your response,
as well. The final chapter of this story is up to you.
Sincerely,
The eValue-ator
