Sathnam Sanghera: Pret a Manger

Pret a Manger

If you recently visited the Pret A Manger outlet on the City Road in London, ordered a Superclub sandwich and found it a little heavier on the seasoning than usual, I’m afraid it was probably my fault.

In my defence, I was a little stressed when I “shivered” the pepper pot over the filling, as directed: I had been up since 5am, Luther Vandross was blaring out of a stereo on my right and an Algerian was blaring along to Luther Vandross on my left.

I had ended up in the kitchen after a conversation with a colleague, who had remarked that Pret A Manger was pretty much the only fast-food chain in Britain where you could expect consistently good service. I had agreed. Staff at British fast-food outlets are invariably inarticulate and depressed. And I understand why: I was inarticulate and depressed too when I worked for a burger chain as a teenager.

But, for some reason, the staff at Pret A Manger, which was founded in Britain in 1986 and now has 125 outlets around the world, are different. They are chatty and cheerful. What on earth have they got to smile about? I volunteered for a shift at a nearby Pret to find out.

Before I put on my blue hairnet for kitchen duty I read through a document that listed some of the reasons why Pret A Manger’s managers think they are good at customer service. For instance: from day one staff are eligible for a bonus; Pret holds a huge party for all 2,600 staff twice a year; staff are invited to Friday-night drinks once a month (drinks are Pounds 1); staff get generous awards if they get commendations from customers and mystery shoppers.

However, having spent a very long morning working at City Road’s Pret, I would not say that any of these things are particularly important factors behind the company’s curiously impressive customer service. The real reasons are:

1. The customers are nice. Let’s face it, only a certain class of person will pay extra to know that the dead chicken in their sandwich enjoyed a GM-free vegetarian diet. It is this type of person who frequents Pret and nothing does more to promote high-class customer service than high-class customers.

2. Managers are not over-qualified and embittered. Pret does not aim to recruit graduates: 75 per cent of its managers are promoted internally and the remaining 25 per cent are recruited with at least two years relevant work experience. This means that managers do not, like my embittered former boss at the burger chain, resent the fact that they “only” work in the fast-food industry. And if City Road’s Renata is anything to go by, Pret managers do not bark orders from a distance and are happy to pitch in when necessary.

3. Staff are not routinely humiliated. If I had to list the worst things about working at a fast-food outlet, they would be, in ascending order of horridness: wearing a ridiculous uniform, cleaning the customer toilets, entertaining groups of children dressed as the corporate mascot. Pret employees do not have to endure such horrors: the uniform is smart, only the biggest shops have customer toilets, the company hosts no children’s parties and has no corporate mascot.

4. Staff are paid relatively well. Pret does not pay the minimum wage. It aims to pay “best in class”: on average a team member earns Pounds 6.58 an hour (compared with a competitor average of Pounds 5.68, according to one industry study), and a team leader on average earns Pounds 8.39 (compared with a competitor average of Pounds 7.52).

5. Staff get a say in who joins their team. When Pret recruits new employees they attend an interview at a recruitment centre and then spend a day working alongside their prospective colleagues. At the end of the day, the team votes on whether the person should get the job or not. Clearly, this increases the likelihood of a happy ship remaining a happy ship. The contentedness of the City Road branch, for instance, is unlikely to be shattered by someone who cannot bear listening to Luther Vandross at eight in the morning.

6. Staff are not British. Or at least, there are enough non-British people among the staff to dilute the natural British distrust of corporate “passion”. For instance, Ladislav, the 25-year-old Czech who taught me how to make Superclub sandwiches, was shockingly enthusiastic, routinely describing his sandwiches as “delicious” and customers as “wonderful”. Meanwhile, Piotr, the Polish man who taught me how to make coffees, said he “adored” working for Pret.

British people would rarely say such things, even if they thought them, and it is good for Pret that such scepticism is curtailed. In the City Road branch, only one member of staff was English. Across the company Pret employs a high proportion of foreigners, many of them students. About 31 per cent of employees are from ethnic minorities, compared with a UK average of 7.5 per cent.

Of course, Pret is not perfect. While writing this piece, I have come across a fair few people who claim to have had bad customer-service experiences at the sandwich chain and even more people who find the friendliness of the staff a little forced and soulless.

And then there is the annoying fact that Pret tries to glamorise ordinary jobs: coffee-makers are “baristas”, shelf-stackers are “team members” who stack “langers” and the human resources director is the “director for people”.

Nevertheless, in an industry that is notorious for low pay, poor working conditions and making the customer-service experience about as much fun as drowning, Pret A Manger is a beacon of hope.