Recently, Gerry Harvey, the head of one of Australia’s largest retailers, Harvey Norman, confidently declared that his business was in the best position of all Australian retailers to be “the last man standing.”
Given what I’ve seen lately, I’m inclined to agree. Not because Harvey Norman is doing everything right – but because so many others appear to be doing almost everything wrong, often with remarkable consistency.
According to research by the Australian Centre for Retail Studies (ACRS), only 4% of people start shopping in-store before eventually purchasing online. More interestingly, most shoppers don’t enter stores intending to buy online later – they’re driven online by poor in-store experiences. Based on my recent adventures in Australian retail, this statistic feels less like research and more like a public service announcement.
Let me explain.
David Jones: A Premium Brand… In Theory
Once upon a time, David Jones was the gold standard of Australian retail. Its brand promise was clear: premium products, unique offerings, and exceptional service. Somewhere along the way, however, this promise appears to have been quietly folded, placed in a drawer, and forgotten.
Today, David Jones seems to have embraced a bold new strategy: abandon brand identity entirely and become a very expensive warehouse for other people’s labels – minus the service.
A few weeks ago, I accompanied my wife and family on a simple mission: buy a shirt. I was attending a business dinner and wanted something to go with my favourite jacket. Nothing extravagant. Nothing experimental. Just a shirt.
Within three minutes – a new personal best – I found the perfect one. Unfortunately, there was none in my size. I’m a size 43. Not exotic. Not rare. Not hand-crafted by monks. Just 43.
So I went looking for a sales assistant.
I searched. And searched. And searched.
After twenty minutes, I found one staff member in a completely different department who politely informed me that helping me was not his destiny. Another twenty minutes passed before a young man in a David Jones uniform approached. Relief! I asked about the shirt.
His response:
“Sorry, I’m just on my way to the toilet. I work in another department, but someone should be back soon.”
At that point, I decided to cut my losses and leave. I assume someone eventually returned. Possibly days later.
Myer: Retail’s Ghost Town
Next stop: Myer. I should have known better.
David Jones was quiet, but Myer was something else entirely. It was less “department store” and more post-apocalyptic retail experiment. By the time we reached the men’s department, we were the only customers on the floor. The only thing missing was tumbleweeds.
What had changed since my last visit was the layout. Myer now resembled a trade show – dozens of tiny branded booths, each staffed by someone who worked exclusively for that brand and no other. Need help across brands? That sounded dangerously close to customer service.
As we walked around, staff emerged eagerly from their booths, clearly delighted to see another human being. Unfortunately, each conversation followed the same pattern:
“Sorry, I only work for this brand.”
If we wanted assistance elsewhere, we’d need to locate the appropriate booth operator – presumably through some sort of retail scavenger hunt.
Gone was the idea of a sales consultant who could help you choose what actually suited you. Style advice, colour guidance, understanding a customer’s lifestyle? These were clearly legacy concepts.
Sportscraft: A Masterclass in Self-Sabotage
Next, we tried Sportscraft – a brand I had long admired and frequently purchased. I entered confidently, only to be told they no longer sold menswear in their own stores. If I wanted Sportscraft men’s clothing, I should head to David Jones or Myer.
You can probably guess what happened next.
I didn’t buy anything.
The Radical Concept of Competence
Eventually, on the way home, I stopped at the Stafford Ellinson factory shop. Miraculously, I found a sales consultant who could actually help me.
He understood colours. He knew sizing. He gave advice. He sold.
I bought the shirt I came in for – and then spent $1,200 on additional items. The next day, I returned and spent another $2,000+ on suits, shirts, and ties.
It turns out that when someone provides knowledgeable, attentive service, customers respond by opening their wallets. Who knew?
David Jones and the Santa Experience (Or: How to Ruin Christmas Efficiently)
Just when I thought I was done with David Jones, Christmas arrived.
As most parents know, department stores use elaborate Christmas displays and Santa visits to lure children – and, by extension, parents – inside. We decided to take our kids to see Santa at David Jones in Melbourne’s CBD.
There were seven people in line. Seven. We thought we’d struck gold.
We hadn’t.
After choosing a $50 photo package, we waited. And waited. And waited.
After one hour and forty minutes, we’d moved three places. Another forty-five minutes later, we were ushered into a new waiting area. Another twenty minutes passed before someone tried to re-excite our now exhausted children.
After nearly three hours, we finally met Santa – briefly – before being rushed out as if the North Pole had a strict overtime policy.
The photographer was polite but clearly defeated by life. One parent was instructed to pay while the other removed the children immediately. The experience was rushed, joyless, and deeply disappointing.
My wife later declared she would never return to David Jones. I believe she meant it.
A Message to Retailers
For retailers complaining about tough conditions, a reminder: retail spending in Australia has been growing at above-average rates. If you’re losing share, it’s not because customers stopped spending – it’s because they stopped spending with you.
For big retailers who have abandoned their own brands to become glorified trade show organisers, the future looks particularly bleak. Once you’re just a marketplace, you’re competing with every marketplace – online and offline – and size alone no longer guarantees success.
So will Gerry Harvey be the last man standing?
Possibly.
And part of me almost hopes he is. Because if everyone else collapses under the weight of their own indifference, perhaps they’ll be replaced by businesses that actually deliver what customers want.
And who knows – maybe then even Gerry might be forced to change his attitude and business model to meet customer needs too.
One can always dream.
This article by Andrew Brown first appeared in the February 2012 issue of Onnero’s Modern Business Magazine. Andrew Brown is a brand creator and innovator with over 30 years international experience in retail and hospitality….and clearly has incredible patience and a wry sense of humour.
