take this niche and shove it

Coldstone Creamery.

They make--no, shape--no, craft--superb ice cream combinations. Their portions are gluttonously large. Their shops are clean, visually appealing, and often crowded; word gets around. And their employees are friendly.

Too friendly.

Scary friendly.

They're trained to shout a "Welcome to Coldstone!" any time the door jangles open, quicker than Pavlov's dog in a clock shop. They ask you if you've been to Coldstone before (if you haven't, just say you have) and are quick to thrust a sample of rich, velvety ice cream in your face should you lean too close to any particular variety. Every sentence is spoken with exclamation points, as if being welcoming means shouting loud enough for Grandma to hear. You wonder if their bosses make them stuff their ears with wax and pin their cheeks back in permanent grins.

When you finally order, after minutes of scanning the daunting menu, and, if you should be so kind, leave a small tip, how are you rewarded? Why, with song. That's right: the whole crew sings some inane song about how Tipping is so great! Thanks for the tip! We love to sing! Coldstone Creamery owns our souls!

Coldstone's intentions are good. They have bland Baskin Robbins to contend with, an industry juggernaut. They know that having a slightly different sort of product just isn't enough. People come back for good ice cream, sure, but they won't become addicted if they're served by zombies. So Coldstone makes their employees turn on faucets of charm.

The effect, though, is more like being sprayed with a fire hose. No one likes being shouted at, even if the shouter is smiling. No one likes having their tip become the center of public attention. (Especially not those who tip poorly.) And no one, deep down, likes watching those hapless employees humiliate themselves for small change.

I have nothing but pity for Coldstone's drones. Many of them are young, adolescents even, and they're learning an early hard lesson about corporate idiocy that will soon turn them into Tyler Durdens. I know their pain; I've had to wear a uniform to work, hold a clipboard as I walked the floor, welcome every customer, push extended warranties nobody really wanted, keep pushing extended warranties, beg and plead for people to buy extended warranties, etc., etc. (I worked at Circuit City back in the good old days, when they paid commission, so you had to know at least a smidgen about your product to succeed.)

No one at Starbucks sings for a tip. No one at McDonalds welcomes you to the store. No one at Walmart will help you with anything, really.

Cut the crap, Coldstone. You don't need it. Your ice cream is good enough. Really. No, really.