Yesterday I was on the phone, trying to find a little love for Cream Puff.
Let me explain:
When my father died two years ago, he left behind a 2009 Mercury Grand Marquis with only 38,000 miles. Dad only drove it to church on Sundays; its previous owner had apparently limited their driving to the same.
After sailing that maroon boat 500 miles from Alabama back to Raleigh, I took it to Scott, my regular mechanic, for a going over. He determined that aside from four dry-rotted tires (which explained a certain “wobbliness” on the drive) it was in perfect condition.
“Gosh, Mr. Larson, it’s like driving a cream puff,” Scott observed.
Cream Puff! The name stuck.
The first thing I did was pay to have Cream Puff’s factory radio replaced with a receiver that could run CarPlay. (I need my podcasts, y’all.) At the Best Buy in nearby Cary, North Carolina, Nick and his assistant maestro of electronics spent a good three hours installing it. But before that, Nick convinced me to trade in the Pioneer for a Kenworth.
Nick said, “I’ve worked on old model cars like this, and I promise the Kenworth will fit a lot better.”
He was right.
Two years later, my son is nearly old enough to drive. His mom thinks it would be nice if, when backing up this barge, our boy could see beyond the back bumper. Cream Puff could take out a small barn if someone isn’t careful.
So, yesterday I ordered a backup camera online and called Best Buy again to schedule the installation. I got an “agent” voice that introduced herself as an A.I. named Carrie.
Carrie apologized in advance for any mistakes she might make. “I’m still learning,” she said sweetly.
Carrie wasn’t learning fast enough for my taste, so after five minutes of going nowhere, I hung up on her. I decided that when the camera arrived, I would drive in person to the store and deal with a human being — my guy, Nick.
I predict that A.I. Agent Carrie will get a lot better at connecting callers to the right kind of help.
But I suspect a meaningful number of consumers will insist on the human touch. Think about it: human travel agents still exist today, even with a plethora of apps to help a person plan their own vacations.
Maybe you’ve guessed where I’m going with all this.
As a rule, newspapers employ smart, discerning people who could be helpful to readers and business clients struggling to navigate a complex digital world that offers a dizzying number of options. Between all the apps and all the “phishy” stuff online, the involvement of a human might be a feature worth paying for.
I call this category of services “concierge” because the word connotes a white-gloved, custom approach that is so rare these days. And that scarcity principle means you can charge for it.
I, for one, would pay for concierge, human help. I can get incredibly flummoxed when it comes time to pay bills, manage subscriptions and keep up with maintenance schedules of my cars and home. In terms of my consulting business, there's a whole other bucket of headaches.
But, I don’t want an A.I. agent to help me.
I want a Nick — who told me if I ever wanted to sell Cream Puff that he knew a potential buyer.
I want a Scott — who not only has a fun, dry wit, but who also recently pulled out a flashlight and got on all fours in the car to help me find a ring I’d dropped between the seat cushions.
My firm is experimenting with concierge marketing services for business owners for newspapers to sell and fulfill. There’s a lot more to explore in this space. Intrigued? Reach your human self out to me and let’s invent together.
