I love L.L. Bean. It’s a love that dates back to my childhood growing up in Maine, where no business, no institution, no person is more profoundly emblematic of the state than the world-renowned outdoor retailer founded by and named for Leon Leonwood Bean.
One day when I was in sixth grade my father let me play hooky to spend the day with him. Among our travels that day was what back then was a more than two hour drive from Bangor to the original Bean store in Freeport. It was one building and not impressive from the outside. Inside, it was better than Disney World for a boy who loved the outdoors. I’d wax poetic about what my father bought me there but I don’t remember. And it doesn’t matter because that particular shopping trip was about the outing not the acquisition.
Businesses can talk about customer service until they are blue in the face but most of us will continue to be red in the face from dealing with bureaucratic rules and rude or just unresponsive companies and their employees.
Since its founding in 1912, L. L. Bean has decade after decade set the gold standard for customer service. For many businesses it’s a slogan and a rarely honored cliché: the customer is always right. L. L. Bean made it inviolable company policy.
But not anymore.
With stores and outlets in 19 states from Maine to Colorado (and one opening soon in Utah), the folks who preached customer service and meant it have succumbed to the realities of the 21st century and dishonest patrons.
Bean’s longstanding policy was to replace any returned item regardless of date of purchase or, quite frankly, condition. All a customer had to do was show up with the goods, say they were disappointed that the tent they bought 25 years ago had sprung a leak and an hour later they would be camping in comfort and splendor.
As of Feb. 9, the lifetime return policy is deceased. The company now will only replace products returned with a year of purchase – and a receipt must accompany the item being returned.
What jumped in the way to spoil this wonderful tradition?
The ugly side of human nature.
Over the years, customers (probably out of state tourists, I say as a Maine native) took advantage of the company’s trust and gamed the system. They returned goods that were ancient and in some cases items they did not personally buy.
The new policy makes sense and still honors the store’s customer-first philosophy by talking the talk and walking the walk – in the iconic Bean boot, of course. Don’t like what you bought? You like it but it didn’t work or had a defect? You can still return it. You just have to do it within a year of purchase accompanied by a receipt.
The origin of the former policy is the stuff of lore. The first 100 pairs of Bean boots – made personally by old Leon Leonwood Bean himself – left the company practically flat-footed: 90 of them fell apart. To paraphrase Nancy Sinatra’s 1966 musical declaration, those boots weren’t made for walkin’ – and Bean replaced each one at no cost.
Bean’s Maine honesty and integrity became company policy. His instincts about quality and customer service have been the foundation of the company and its stores. If you have never seen the flagship retail campus in Freeport, Maine, it’s worth a visit. It’s a mecca for any man, woman or child who loves the outdoors. The stores are open 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. I once tore through there at 2 a.m. doing my last-minute Christmas shopping – on Christmas Day. The company virtually built Freeport as an international retail center with stores that represent the most famous brands in America. Free summer concerts are offered at the height of the tourist season.
L.L. Bean is just a marvelous company and will continue to be.
I must admit to personal chagrin at the new policy. Years ago, I bought a fancy and expensive GPS device designed to keep track of hunting dogs who go astray. One of my favorite bird dogs had a habit of disappearing deep into the Maine woods for hours at a time. She always returned but when she did my vocal chords and patience were spent.
A wonderful saleswoman spent an hour showing me how to use the tracking device, and it really worked – until I was left alone with it in the woods. I was never able to master it. There were times when I thought of returning the dog but she was too loyal and I loved her. Then a former wife gave her away to friends so I thought I should return the GPS to L.L. Bean and exchange it for something I can use.
Not now.
Richard Connor is president and publisher of the Fort Worth Business Press. Contact him at rconnor@bizpress.net
