Initially, the family members opened an account with Edwards for $10,000. "They weren't happy with Chase and wanted to test us out," says Mitchell, who began looking after them as if he were their personal banker. He remembered the names of all nine siblings and even brought them a souvenir from his vacation to Argentina. They started bringing him coffee and calling to make sure that he was working before they came in. At first, he had no idea how much they were worth. The day that DelRoccilli arrived with balloons, the family had wired Commerce $1 million.
Service is so critical that the bank sends mystery shoppers to every branch twice a week. Last year, it conducted 14,000 mystery shops. In addition to evaluating the overall condition of the branch, shoppers look for a handshake followed by the standard Commerce greeting: "Hi! My name is ____. How may I help you today?" If the employee says "can" instead of "may," if the customer-service representative doesn't walk the shopper to a desk or give her the appropriate brochure, if the attitude isn't genuine, the branch doesn't get a "wow" rating, explains Ron, a shopper who prefers to keep her identity a mystery.
Throughout the year, the branches compete based on these scores. The latest contest focuses on drive-through service. The winning branch takes home the coveted Hill Cup, a trophy featuring a big letter C. "I don't want to give it up," says Jennifer Perrone, assistant manager of the Plaza branch, the reigning Hill Cup champion. "I'm obsessed with it. I leave notes for my tellers in the drive through all the time that remind them to 'Say it with a smile.' "
While Commerce is generating customer traffic, it's also figuring out ways to manage it. After all, how can you claim to provide superior service if your customers wait in line for long periods of time? This does happen. After waiting 20 minutes to open a new account, one Manhattan businessman threw what he himself called "a New York tantrum" and demanded service. "There are too many greeters standing around not doing anything," he grumbled.
Service isn't always efficient, concedes Hill when told of the incident. It's up to the branch-operations team to devise clever solutions. Just as fast-food restaurants have done, Commerce has reduced the number of keystrokes required for routine teller transactions. And customers' signatures are scanned into the computer system, so that when a teller enters an account number, the signature appears on the screen. The teller compares the signature instantly, reducing the time it takes to cash a check -- a routine, or straight, transaction -- to around 20 seconds.
Long lines at the bank's recently opened branches in New York are one of DelRoccilli's main concerns. Having managed other high-volume branches at Commerce, he knows that there are other ways to manage unexpected delays. "You can sense when people have been waiting too long," he says. "You have to engage them. Give them something to drink or eat or read. You'll take their mind off the wait."
Vernon Hill relishes playing the role of the brash, sharp-tongued antibanker, but the truth is, he was born to be a banker. His father worked as a check runner before World War II, and by the time he had a family, he decided that Vernon, the oldest of six children, should work in a bank and attend the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. Vernon Hill did both. "I was lucky," he says. "It was the road I got pushed down, and it was what I was good at. But I knew I wasn't going to get rich as a bank employee."
Hill went into real estate, founding a company that helped retailers locate property for future stores. His first client was McDonald's, which has been such an influence that the Wall Street Journal once dubbed him McBanker. By taking out senior executives at McDonald's to approve sites in the 1960s, Hill learned firsthand how to build a national chain. In 1973, at the age of 27, he opened the first branch of Commerce Bank.
Just as nearly every McDonald's restaurant looks identical and serves the same meals, the typical Commerce branch is replicated with remarkable consistency. "We know every screw in the model," Hill says. Most branches are built from scratch for about $1 million. With few exceptions, they have the same white-brick exterior capped with a black metal roof, the same black-and-white marble, the same no-frills checking and savings accounts, and the same lollipops and dog biscuits. "It makes life easier for customers," says chief marketing officer John Cunningham. "They know what the deal is wherever they visit one of our banks."