Personal Touch -- Service Makes Salesman A Legend At Nordstrom

When hundreds of Nordstrom employees rallied in support of the company recently, the biggest guy in the crowd was Pat McCarthy.

At 6 feet 5 inches, McCarthy is not just a tall presence in the downtown men's suits department, but a huge presence in the corporation. For 12 years, McCarthy has been the No. 1 salesman in the 60-store chain. Last year, he sold almost $1.3 million worth of clothing.

Nordstrom has long been a celebrated place to shop. But until recently, little attention was paid to how Nordstrom treated its employees. In recent weeks, some employees have made national headlines with complaints of high-pressure conditions and store policies that required them to perform services such as making customer deliveries and writing thank-you notes in their own time.

McCarthy, 46, does those things willingly. He considers them part of running a business, which is how he looks at his job. Although as a union member he officially earns $9.85 an hour ($20,488 a year), he says he doesn't view himself as an hourly employee but as ``a franchise within a franchise.''

With commissions, McCarthy last year earned $80,000, plus profit sharing and other benefits.

McCarthy is hardly your typical sales clerk, says Joe Peterson, president of Local 1001 of the United Food & Commercial Workers, which represents 1,500 clerks and office workers in five King County stores. Peterson describes McCarthy as a legend in the company.

``He's the sort of person where Nordstrom will go to a meeting and say, `We want people to be like Pat McCarthy,' but there are very few people who have the opportunity'' to stay long enough to build a large client base. ``Nordstrom has the highest turnover rate in retailing, even though the company denies it. People get burned out. Pat is an exception.''

Nordstrom says 17 clerks in Washington state earn more than $40,000 a year, putting McCarthy in an elite league.

Famous for a velvet touch with customers, McCarthy sells suits to children of customers and is now getting reports on grandchildren.

After meeting someone once, McCarthy can remember his name, size, marital status, business and other information.

One customer walked up to him recently, and not only heard McCarthy greet him by name but ask how his trip went. The customer looked a little stunned. People who haven't seen McCarthy for years are amazed at his recall. ``I remember their name. That's key in any business,'' McCarthy says. ``It's another way of bonding.''

Hearing McCarthy recall such details is like watching a magician pull animals from hats. McCarthy grins at the reaction of his listeners, but claims no special gift. He calls himself ``an average guy who has worked at some things.''

``He's really dedicated, and that's what it takes,'' says Dolores Van Orden, a top Nordstrom saleswoman who works in Tacoma. ``You have to be. Otherwise, this isn't your ball game.''

McCarthy says part of his strategy is to know his customers, which in his case means knowing men. Men and women are not the same sort of shoppers, he says.

``Men are hunters, not shoppers. They need someone to do it for them,'' he says. Men act that way because they have little experience buying for themselves. As children, mom bought what they wore. As adults, the macho mindset makes it hard for them to talk openly about their appearance. McCarthy says his job is to make them relax. ``It's kind of like coming home,'' he says.

McCarthy has had customers spend as much as $5,000 at one time. He says his average sale is $500 to $600.

With a client list of 6,000, McCarthy could coast. But he arrives at work early to make sure pick-ups will be ready for a customer's arrival. When stocking merchandise, he uses the time to memorize which colors, sizes and manufacturers are available. When a customer arrives, McCarthy says he does not want to waste time ``fumbling around'' looking for something.

During the day, he makes about 40 calls to customers. In March, he calls to alert people to what is coming in for spring. In August, he talks about clothes coming in the fall. McCarthy skips lunch and takes no breaks. At church socials or walking down Fifth Avenue, McCarthy is never off the job. Friends become customers and customers become friends.

McCarthy tried management for 18 months, but missed sales. ``My strength was working with people,'' he says, although he acknowledges that he makes more money than most managers.

He remains a dues-paying member of Local 1001, but says he would support union decertification. Union complaints triggered recent investigation by the state labor department, which found that Nordstrom has failed to pay some employees for performing work off-the-clock, or on their own time.

McCarthy says those complaints represent a minority viewpoint. But, he adds, middle managers could do a better job of listening to employees.

The episode has clearly pained McCarthy, who worries that Nordstrom's growth may have hurt internal communications. Just as Nordstrom does inventory of its stock, it may be time to do a company inventory of its people, he says.

McCarthy, a Seattle native, joined Nordstrom 20 years ago and took a job in the furnishings and sportswear department in Bellevue. By his own account, he was a so-so salesman. He didn't know how to fold clothes or which colors worked well together. He dressed himself in shirts too big. Then he met the late Ray Black, who was a top seller of men's suits, and asked to be his helper and student. Black taught McCarthy the value of remembering names. Black could remember not just a person's name, but also his last purchase.

``Ray was businesslike, focused, very sharp and witty,'' McCarthy says. ``He was very low key and not pushy. He made suggestions and gave customers choices. I never saw anyone go out there displeased. People would come in asking for him.''

McCarthy is not a snappy dresser. He wears the basic Nord-

strom suit, accented by the regimental-stripe tie. A Nordstrom buyer once suggested he brighten his look, but McCarthy stuck with the traditional.

``You don't want to look too fast,'' he says. Referring to customers, he adds, ``They want you right in the middle of the road.''

McCarthy is also famous for his ability to handle several different customers at once. McCarthy can greet one customer entering the men's department as three other customers are examining themselves in the mirror. A fourth is working with a tailor and a fifth is about to pay for a sale.

``The number of people he can serve simultaneously is phenomenal,'' says Kip Toner, vice president of James G. Murphy Co., an auction company. ``I kid him that he should charge admission. It's a show, like a carefully orchestrated symphony, where he's got them all moving at the same time. And the joy is, everyone's happy.''

Customers often ask for advice. What's a good restaurant? Where can I get my car fixed? McCarthy has answers. At times, those chats have turned deeply personal. Customers know that McCarthy, who once lost a child in an accident, can be a sympathetic listener. One customer talked about a child's drug habit, another about finding something to do in retirement. When one lawyer-client started gaining weight, McCarthy suggested a health club. He generally refuses to sell clothes to someone who is gaining weight and wants a larger-size wardrobe.

``This job is more than selling clothes,'' he says. Giving help on a personal level is part of what he calls giving back to ``the bucket of life.''

McCarthy ends his first contact with a new customer by saying something like: ``This was fun for me. Shall we do this again?'' At that point, they swap business cards.

Once McCarthy sells to a someone in a law or accounting firm, the word spreads quickly. His client list in one downtown firm of 150 attorneys includes 30 to 40 of them. He alerts them to upcoming sales, gaps in their wardrobes, shoes that need replacement and ties that bring life to an old suit. McCarthy teaches them that clothes convey a look and that a maintaining that look is a comprehensive effort. It's not uncommon to see McCarthy walking a customer from men's suits to several other departments. ``Those tan slacks need brown shoes. How's your sock situation? Need underwear?'' McCarthy says men are relieved to get these issues resolved.

Since he has so many downtown businessmen as clients, McCarthy says he has to make sure that two men likely to meet each other aren't wearing the same outfit.

He keeps a customer address book, which he calls his bible. The names include chief executives and others in banking, railroads, broadcasting, law and politics. The former mayor of King County's largest city is one customer. The late Sen. Warren Magnuson bought clothes from McCarthy.

Seattle Port Commissioner Paul Schell, a McCarthy customer, says everybody knows McCarthy.

``I hate shopping, but he's perfect,'' Schell says. ``He's someone I can trust. I walk into a store and break out in a cold sweat. But I'm out of there in three to five minutes. He'll call me up and say I've got a jacket that's wearing out and I need to come in and get a new one. And I go.''

In pursuit of a sale, McCarthy will even call the boss. He calls Nordstrom Co-chairmen John, Jim and Bruce Nordstrom and and President Jack McMillan.

``They're like everyone else. They don't think about it until someone says, `Hey, that tie . . .' I keep track of them and make sure they're looking good,'' McCarthy says.

Sometimes those busy executives, who get a 33 percent discount, say they don't need anything. McCarthy thinks otherwise. ``Wait a minute,'' he tells them. ``It's time to update.''

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TOMORROW IN THE TIMES

-- Nordstrom is a powerful force in retailing; its buyers can turn a struggling designer into a millionaire overnight. As such, it's wise for manufacturers to keep any grievances with Nordstrom private.

Business Monday