Every December, retail hands its most anxious customers to its newest staff. Then acts surprised.
It's the Saturday before Christmas. A man stands in the middle of a homewares store holding a grey knitted throw against his own chest, as if the throw might tell him whether his mother-in-law would like it.
It won't. Throws are famously tight-lipped.
Behind him, a nineteen-year-old in a Santa hat who started on Tuesday is restacking candles with great care and no eye contact. She has been shown where the bathroom is, how the EFTPOS works and that the gift wrap lives under the counter. Nobody has told her what to say to a man negotiating with a blanket.
He puts the throw down. He picks up a candle. He puts the candle down. He leaves, and buys a voucher at the petrol station on the way home.
Merry Christmas, everybody.
Why do Christmas shoppers need more help, not less?
Here's the odd thing about December. It's the one month of the year when customers are buying things they don't understand, for people who aren't there, against a deadline. Buying a present is an exam you sit on someone else's behalf. Get it wrong and the marking happens in public, on Christmas morning, in front of the whole family.
That makes the Christmas shopper the most help-hungry customer you'll see all year. And we meet them, if we meet them at all, with the least experienced team we'll field all year. It's rather like a restaurant handing the kitchen to the work-experience kid on the one night everyone books.
The casuals aren't the problem. They're usually keen, quick and cheerful. They just haven't been shown what good looks like, and nobody has time to show them, because it's December and everyone is folding.
How do you train Christmas casuals in a week?
You don't train them on everything. You can't. A new starter cannot absorb your returns policy, your loyalty programme, your stock system and the difference between three types of linen by Friday. Try, and they'll remember none of it.
Train them on four moments instead. The same four that matter in every store, every day, only louder in December: Greet, Meet, Close, Upsell. If GMCU is new to you, the short video is the fastest way in.
Then ask three questions, in order. Will they do it? Can they do it? Do they do it reliably, at 4pm on the 23rd, with a queue to the door? The first is confidence, the second is skill, the third is habit. A nervous casual fails on the first long before the second, so start with permission. Tell them talking to customers is the job. A surprising number of them think it's rude.
What does good Christmas customer service look like?
Greet, under pressure. When the store is heaving, nobody expects instant service. They do expect to be seen. Eye contact and "I'll be with you in two minutes" buys a remarkable amount of patience. A customer who's been noticed will wait. A customer who's been ignored will start counting.
Meet the gift buyer. One question does more work in December than any other: "Who's it for?" It turns a man and a blanket into a conversation about his mother-in-law, her cold house and her habit of reading in bed. Suddenly the throw has a job, and he has a story to tell when she unwraps it. Follow it with "What do they already love?" and you've done more product matching than a week of training on thread counts.
Close in the fitting room. Party season fills the cubicles with people trying on outfits they're nervous about. Queues form, staff get pulled onto the floor, and the most motivated buyers in the building are left alone with a mirror. One knock and "How are you getting on? Want the next size?" saves more December sales than any window display. We've written about where great sales go to die. December is its peak season.
Upsell at a crowded till. This is where nerves win. The queue is long, the casual wants to be quick, and one more question feels like holding everyone up. But the Christmas add-on is the kindest one in the calendar. "Want me to gift wrap that?" "It takes two AA batteries. Shall I pop some in?" Nobody in history has been thanked for selling a toy without batteries. "Batteries not included" is the saddest sentence of Christmas morning.
Who's watching the floor in December?
The awkward bit for managers is that December is exactly when you stop watching. You're on the till, in the stockroom, on the phone to the courier. The new team learns by guessing, and guesses harden into habits fast.
So watch for ten minutes a day. Pick one moment, catch someone doing it well and say so, out loud and specifically. "That 'who's it for' was perfect." Casuals copy what gets praised far faster than what gets explained. That's coaching, not checking up, and it's the only training that survives a Saturday in December.
Steal it
- One moment a day. Monday Greet, Tuesday Meet, and so on. Five minutes before the doors open.
- Permission first. Tell new starters that talking to customers is the job, not an interruption to it.
- Teach one question. "Who's it for?" Then "What do they already love?"
- Knock on every fitting room. Within a couple of minutes, every time, especially when it's busy.
- One add-on at the till. Gift wrap, batteries, a card. Offer it as a favour, because it is.
- Praise out loud. Catch it, name it, and watch the rest of the team copy it.
The man with the throw didn't need a discount or a better display. He needed a nineteen-year-old in a Santa hat to ask him one question. She'd have been brilliant at it.
Nobody told her she was allowed.
