Cresencia Chiremba
I’m back from a self-imposed sabbatical — several months of professional hibernation during which I perfected the fine art of doing very little. Starved of both work and proper food, I decided to rejoin the living by hunting groceries in Harare CBD’s Rezende Street. I pictured a gentle reintroduction: quick buys, friendly banter, and the small comforts of city tuckshops. Instead, I got a lesson in how quickly customer service can sour a simple errand.
Rezende Street looked exactly as I remembered it: narrow pavements, the constant city hum, and tuckshops stacked with maize meal, cooking oil, sugar, soap and the odd treat. At one counter a woman stood with her head tucked beneath the counter, as if she’d discovered a private nap spot in plain sight. I greeted her. Nothing. I greeted again. Still nothing. Only when I asked, Uri kurwara here?” did she lift her head and answer my question.
That pause — the blank stare, the feeling of being invisible — turned a routine errand into something that lingered. It wasn’t just a lapse in manners. It felt like a message: your time and your money don’t matter here. In small retail, where customers are often neighbours and margins are thin, that message travels fast and costs more than a single lost sale.
There are reasons to cut some slack. Tuckshop owners and their staff work long hours with little backup. They juggle supply shortages, volatile prices, and the daily grind of serving a steady stream of people. Fatigue is real. But fatigue doesn’t erase the fact that a tiny gesture — a nod, a “mangwanani,” a quick eye contact — can change everything. Those small courtesies are cheap to give and priceless to receive.
Why a Little Courtesy Matters
A visible price list, a tidy counter, or a quick “I’ll be with you in a minute” would have signalled respect and kept me from feeling dismissed. Shops that train staff to acknowledge customers immediately — even if they can’t serve them right away — create a warmer atmosphere. In retail, attention is a currency as important as cash.
This isn’t just about feelings. A customer who feels welcomed is more likely to return, to buy more, and to recommend the place to friends. Conversely, a single brusque encounter can push shoppers toward supermarkets or other vendors. For tuckshop owners, investing a little time in customer relations pays off in loyalty and steady trade. It’s not rocket science: people come back where they feel seen.
Practical Support and Simple Fixes
Small, deliberate habits make a big difference. Train staff to acknowledge customers; keep counters tidy; post clear prices. These are low‑cost moves with high returns. In a tight community, reputation spreads quickly — for better or worse.
I also offer customer service training for tuckshop owners and staff who want to retain customers and attract new ones. My short, practical sessions focus on greeting techniques, handling busy periods, simple complaint resolution, and creating a welcoming front-of-shop routine. The training is hands-on, short enough to fit into a busy day, and tailored to the realities of Harare CBD. If you want customers to come back, teach your team to make them feel welcome the moment they step in. Ndapota, it works.
Local business associations, municipal programmes, or NGOs could run similar short workshops on customer service and basic retail skills. Peer mentoring — where experienced shopkeepers share tips with newer ones — would be affordable and effective. Even a short checklist for front-of-shop behaviour could help: greet, acknowledge, inform, serve.
A Two-Way Street
Customers also have a role. It’s fair to assume staff might be tired or distracted, but it’s also fair to expect a minimum of attention. When customers raise concerns calmly — as I did by asking if the attendant was unwell — the tone of the interaction can shift from confrontation to care. That small exchange on Rezende Street did prompt the attendant to engage, showing how easily a situation can be turned around when both people act with basic courtesy.
The encounter also highlights how we value service work. Retail staff are the public face of our economy, yet their labour is often undervalued and undertrained. Employers and policymakers should consider incentives for training, recognition for good service, and practical supports like reasonable breaks so staff aren’t too exhausted to engage. When we treat service work as skilled and important, the whole community benefits.
Leaving Rezende Street
I left Rezende Street with the groceries I needed and a renewed appreciation for the fragile choreography of everyday commerce. The woman behind the counter may have been tired or dealing with something private. That’s understandable. What’s also understandable is the expectation that when someone walks into your shop, they will be met with attention and respect.
Good customer service is not just good business; it’s a simple act of human decency that keeps communities humming. For tuckshop owners who want to keep customers coming back, the message is simple: small acts of attention matter. A quick look up, a warm greeting, and a willingness to answer questions can turn a one-time buyer into a regular. Nonetheless— those tiny gestures cost nothing but mean everything.
***Cresencia Marjorie Chiremba is a Marketing, Sales & Customer Service Consultant. For suggestions and training, contact her at [email protected] or +263 712 979 461 / 0719 978 335 / 0772 978 335.