What do elevators, jelly beans (specifically brown M&M's), and toilet paper have in common? Surprisingly, more than you would think. A couple of years ago, I posted about something I heard at my daughter's college graduation, "The way a person does one thing is the way they do everything." I mentioned the story about the rock-n-roll band, Van Halen having a "M&M clause" in their touring contract. Apparently, in the early days they would tour with these very elaborate sets that required a lot of attention to detail in order to safely assemble them at the concert venue (lots of pyrotechnics, lights, heavy equipment, etc). There was a clause deeply embedded in their contract that stated that they required a bowl of M&M's as one of their snacks before the concert. However, they specifically requested "ABSOLUTELY no brown ones!" If they ever found Brown M&M's in their candy bowl, the band would know that the local concert venue hadn't read through the contract in full. The lack of attention to detail would increase the risk of their performance not going smoothly (or worse, it increased their personal risk of safety). Brown M&M's meant that the contract was null and void, and they would go on to play in the next tour location. The band created this small detail to ensure that every little detail was taken care of.
I also mentioned another seemingly small trivial practice that signaled "attention to detail." Have you ever noticed that the toilet paper in a hotel room is neatly folded over into a triangle ("toilet paper origami")? That's the housekeeping staff's way of letting you know that they've thoroughly cleaned your room. Some hotels (and most cruise lines) have started to create towel animals (towels that are neatly folded to create an animal sculpture) for the same purpose. Again, these small details let you, the customer, know that "this company takes 'attention to detail' to a whole different level!"
Now, let's talk about elevators. I am reading a great book right now called, World Class: A Story of Adversity, Transformation, and Success at NYU Langone Health by William Haseltine (here is an online discussion about the book by the Brookings Institution). The book is about how a large academic medical center went from near bankruptcy to become one of the leading health care institutions in America. One of the stories mentioned early in the book stood out in particular to me. The new (at the time) CEO and Dean (of the medical school), Robert Grossman used a data-driven approach to transform the medical center. However, he also recognized the importance of small, early wins that were largely symbolic. Haseltine writes, "While Grossman went to great lengths to ground decisions in data and focus on improving major components of NYU Langone's activities, he also understood the importance of symbolic gestures and actions. He understood that people need early wins to build enthusiasm and gather momentum."
What did Grossman do that was so symbolic? He fixed the elevators at the hospital! Here is what New York University's board chair, William Berkley said about the hospital elevators, "Everybody hated the elevators. They were detrimental to the quality of life for everyone who worked here." The elevators were apparently very slow, unreliable, and frequently inoperable. They were always crowded (a much bigger deal nowadays with COVID-19), and passengers frequently had to go down a couple of floors in order to eventually go up to the right floor.
Shortly after he became CEO, Robert Grossman led the construction of a whole new, separate, freestanding elevator tower that was connected to the main hospital. He doubled the number of elevators, renovated the main entrance, and modernized the technology. Berkley said of Grossman, "he understood how important it was for the employees to know that we were willing to spend money to fix what needed fixing." Grossman would later tell the board, "While the money we spend on the elevators will not help make a patient better tomorrow, it changes how people feel about what we do."
Again, it's often the small "attention to detail" kind of things that matter most. Spending money to fix the elevators - a major source of frustration for both Langone's employees and patients - signaled to the rest of the institution that Grossman would "go the extra mile" to making sure that the staff was supported. It was a costly investment for the institution, at a time when the institution wasn't do well financially. But in the end, Grossman felt it was worth it.
One final example. A few years ago, I was walking up the stairwell of my hospital's parking garage. There were a number of dust balls along the stairwell. I called our facilities department to have them clean up the stairwell. They pushed back more than a little bit - "Doc, it's a parking garage, people will expect it to be dirty." I countered, "If you were bringing your child here and noticed that the stairwells were this dirty, what would you think?" The facilities manager thought about it for a minute and replied, "I guess I would be concerned. If a hospital didn't think it was necessary or worth the cost to clean the stairwell, where else were they cutting corners?" Bingo. Lesson learned.
Attention to detail matters. These small, seemingly trivial (though admittedly the elevator project at Langone was not trivial) practices - brown M&M's, toilet paper origami, dust balls, and elevators - served as a signal that the organization would do everything possible to make sure that the end-user experience was the best it could be, whether the end-user was a rock-n-roll band, a hotel customer, a patient or visitor, or a hospital employee. As the 17th century writer and preacher, Francis Atterbury said, "It's attention to detail that makes the difference between average and stunning." Or if you prefer a more modern quote, the late John Wooden said, "It's the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen."
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