Usually, after scaling, I do not share my level of satisfaction with my dental office. I also do not complete the “customer experience” MCQs of the brands, which are nevertheless kind enough to deliver to me a combination refrigerator, an oven or ceramic hobs on order and I do not give stars to a box spring, because I am unable say if he makes me “happy”, “very happy” or “really very happy”. Basically, I’m a lazy consumer who doesn’t help brands or doctors improve their methods. However, this fall, on the advice of a friend more altruistic than me, I registered on the application of the company Smice, specializing in mystery shopping.
Secret-defense audits
This good old method, developed by McDonald’s in the 1950s, consists of recruiting anonymous and scrupulous observers to test the quality of service in stores at the request of brands. At a time when the latter can be knocked out in seconds by Google reviews, TripAdvisor and social networks, they are increasingly using these secret-defense audits to avoid disaster. “The well-argued reports of our mystery shoppers serve as management tools within companies”, explains Julien Mondhard, founder and managing director of Smice. Founded in 2005, his company conducts 30,000 visits every year by 5,000 experts in the field and, with its application (the only one in France), is one of the five main players in the mystery shopping French. This is how, in exchange for gift vouchers, even small salaries of around ten euros, I became an ultra-sharp client, capable of exegesing any purchase.
Before taking the risk of offering me a real mission, Smice invites me to test my espionage skills in a bakery of my choice.
Before taking the risk of offering me a real mission, Smice invites me to test my espionage skills in a bakery of my choice. Objective: buy a wand. A priori, nothing complicated, except that I have to swallow about thirty pages of recommendations among which: “1. Never reveal your identity. 2. Hesitate and take a little time to choose your product, even if you know what you want to buy. 3. Don’t make it up. » At the end, I will still have to answer 57 questions.
In the queue, I try to behave normally, while remaining attentive to the state of the facade, the cooking smells (do they smell like the sidewalk?), the presence of opening hours, the missing products… In Mata Hari of the baguette, I photograph the premises and scrutinize the refrigerated display cases with the intensity of a jogger in need of carbohydrates to make sure that the products are arranged by range. “Do you have a specialty? », I ask – it’s the protocol – despite the posters “organic baguette at 1 euro” pasted on the walls… The owner’s eyebrows rise in circumflex accents. Panicked at the thought of being unmasked, I feel a vein swell abnormally in my right temple and am no longer able to hear her response. Back home, I still have to dissect my piece of evidence to photograph it crumb side and crust side. A few days later, despite a question left unanswered – impossible to remember if the bakery was visible – I received a gift certificate for 5 euros and I had the privilege of joining the club of shopping informants.
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