I normally don’t engage in public displays of affection, but right now my affair with my favorite food delivery startup is on display all over New York City (and Twitter).
Let me explain: In October of last year, a startup called Maple began servicing a swath of New York City that includes both my apartment and the Blue State Digital office. Maple differs from other delivery apps in that it doesn’t source its food from a variety of restaurants, nor is there a physical Maple location where you can get the same dishes available in the app. Maple is, essentially, a delivery-only restaurant.
Maple and I have gone from being passionately, ordering-twice-a-day in love, to more of a boring, happily married couple. We maintain a healthy, open dialogue about our relationship: I provide them thoughtful feedback when they’ve wronged me; they acknowledge that they’ve heard me and promise to do better moving forward. They treat me like I’m the only customer in their world, and that keeps me coming back for more.
Working in Social Strategy, I’m used to pursuing influencers on behalf of brands and organizations. Having now spent some time on the flip side of that relationship, I’ve learned a few lessons from Maple that anyone managing a community should take to heart:
Because they’re listening, I feel compelled to actually give them detailed feedback.
After every meal, Maple asks you to give their food a 1-5 star rating along with a comment explaining the grade. This sort of rating system isn’t uncommon among modern apps–think Uber’s rating system. What is uncommon, however, is the unmistakable sense that every word of feedback is being read carefully. Maple employees respond to most ratings asking for more details or simply just thanking the user for the comment, which keeps that digital comment card from feeling like a pointless exercise. In fact, I talk to the Maple staff a lot–much more frequently than I talk to my mom.
They spice things up with surprise-and-delight.
Maple first impressed me by refunding my money on a meal I gave three stars. There was nothing particularly wrong with the meal, but it took longer to arrive than they had estimated. Maple responded that kind of service did not meet their high standards. There were other instances of Maple crediting me for orders that were certainly acceptable, but again, did not meet the high bar they had set for themselves around their customer experience.
Then, the gifts started. It started with a box of chocolates and a handwritten note, delivered to my apartment by a member of their customer experience team. Since then, they’ve sent me boxes of cookies and a small heart-shaped potted plant for Valentine’s Day. The most elaborate gift I’ve received is a framed illustration of one of my (many) Maple-centric tweets.
Maple’s and my love affair translates into sales and real-world advocacy.
Much like a romantic relationship, Maple and I refer to each other as “bae” on social media. I talk about Maple way too much, and am always eager to introduce them to my friends. Beyond the product itself (delivery meals), the 1:1 relationship becomes a huge selling point when I tell my friends about the service. Maple and I are in a near-monogamous relationship (at least on my end). When the product Maple provides is sufficiently great, why would I bother ordering from a service that doesn’t also send me gifts and retweet me on social media?
Maple treats me like an influencer–even though I don’t have that many followers.
For nearly every good or service a consumer might want, there is an overwhelming amount of options. Fostering strong 1:1 relationships is a great way to differentiate from the pack in consumers’ minds. Striking up strong individual connections (even with people like me who aren’t, on paper, “influencers”) at scale requires a dedicated team and great technology, but can lead to strong word of mouth buzz. After all, you never know which customer might convince everyone in his or her office to try your product or donate to your cause.
Maple’s investment in me has clearly been worth their time and resources. The proof? The sheer number of Maple bags arriving at the BSD reception desk every day at lunchtime (not to mention the free press they’re getting out of this post).
And when all else fails, you can always garner some goodwill with your best customers by making them subway-famous in New York:
