One of the appealing things about the broken windows, broken business theory (please see yesterday's post for an introduction) is how quickly we can conjure up examples. This from Broken Windows, Broken Business author Michael Levine: "A broken window can be a sloppy counter, a poorly located sale item [don't you hate that? It's as if the store is trying to keep you from that loopy satisfaction of not only finding what you want but discovering that it's on sale, too!] item, a randomly organized menu, or an employee with a bad attitude [a rare occurrence, right? Not!] It can be physical, like a faded, flaking paint job, or symbolic [often the most potent], like a policy that requires consumers to pay for customer service.]
    Sometimes the examples make us laugh, usually a sign that something is true to the extent that it makes us uncomfortable . . . Levine writes, "When the waiter at a Chinese restaurant is named Billy Bob, that's a broken window. When a call for help in assembling a bicycle results in a twenty-minute hold on the phone (playing the same music over and over), that's a broken window. When a consumer asks why she can't return her blouse at the counter and is told, "Because that's the rule," that is a broken window."
    So by now you're probably thinking of all the broken windows you've encountered. But which building are you looking at? Your own or the one down the street? Yesterday, upon the gentle recommendation of my new personal organizer (yes, it's finally happened: my office is getting cleaned up) I ran to Bed, Bath & Beyond to pick up two very large plastic bins. I haven't bought these in a while so when I saw the price, $17.99 each, I was a little disappointed. I knew I could leave the store empty handed and head to another store like Target or even the Office Max right next door, but that would mean more time and no opportunity for a discount (my glove compartment is overflowing with "20% off" coupons from Bed, Bath & Beyond, which by the way accepts expired coupons). So I actually asked the sales clerk standing nearby, "What do you think? Would I do better at a Target or some other place?" And here's what my new retail best friend had to say: "I'm trained to tell you no, you should get them here, but you might do better somewhere else. But you could also buy them here, try them out and return them, even without the receipt." Some of you might think I was foolish, but I was sort of swayed by his honesty—"I'm trained to say . . . " Right there, he was telling me that he had my best interests in mind. At least it seemed that way and that was good enough for me. So I get to the check out counter and discover with utter joy that not only will my twenty percent off coupons lower the price but the bins are on sale as well.
    I walked out of there such a happy camper, basking in the glow of my great buy and good judgment at having taken the clerk's advice and staying put versus rushing out (and wasting gas) in search of the ultimate deal. Not only was the window not broken it was left open with a really nice breeze blowing through. Sometimes the window that's not broken has an honest face and the ability to simply act in a humane and friendly way.