We’re late to this one, but Susan is in the desert, presumably with no pants on. So it’s my fault that we haven’t weighed in on the group of women (10 Black, one white) who were kicked off Napa Valley’s Wine Train for laughing too loudly.

Slate has the best account of what happened; Jeremy Stahl‘s story is accompanied by live Facebook posts from one of the women in the group as things went haywire.

Basically, the women, a book club (A BOOK CLUB), apparently made too much noise for at least one other traveler, who complained (there’s a picture of her at Slate, looking very Edna Krabapple).

Artist's rendering. Artist’s rendering.

The women were escorted off the train, after being paraded through at least five cars (which they understandably found humiliating), and were met upon disembarking by armed police. One of the women was 83.

Another of the women, Lisa Renee Johnson (who is not 83) is really good at social media. She’s an author and life coach and she spread the word about what was happening while it was still happening (and launched the hashtag #LaughingWhileBlack, which pretty much said it all). The Wine Train, panicked and reacting knee-jerkily to bad publicity, proceeded to compound its sins by posting on Facebook:

082415-kgo-napa-wine-train-facebook-post-img

 

It’s been taken down, but as we’ve seen on SorryWatch umpteen times, The Internets, Like Diamonds, Are Forever.

Sorry, snotty and factually incorrect social media person who has put your employer at even further legal risk with your Little Engine That Lied ways, there was no verbal or physical abuse. The women were no threat to anything except GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, LOUSY CHARACTERIZATION AND FLIMSY PLOTS. As the most entertaining account of this incident, by Damon Young at VSB, points out, “Black people will read the hell out of you. Why? Because we read the hell out of books, that’s why. Black women especially. Black women will book club the hell out of book club. It’s not a game with the Black women’s book clubbing game.”

The Napa Wine Train, seeing that it had a Little Engine That Fucked Up problem, called in the big PR guns: Crisis communication expert Sam Singer. Who wrote them an apology that was, in my considered apology-maven opinion, as good as an apology gets. It’s signed by Napa Train Tony Giaccio, but everyone who’s anyone knows who wrote it.

I want to apologize for your experience on the Napa Valley Wine Train on Saturday, Aug. 22. We accept full responsibility for our failures and the entire chain of unfortunate events you experienced.

Clearly, we knew in advance when we booked your party that you would be loud, fun-loving and boisterous—because you told us during the booking process that you wanted a place where your Club could enjoy each other’s company. Somehow that vital information never made it to the appropriate channels and we failed to seat your group where you could enjoy yourself properly and alert our train’s staff that they should expect a particularly vibrant group.

We were insensitive when we asked you to depart our train by marching you down the aisle past all the other passengers. While that was the safest route for disembarking, it showed a lack of sensitivity on our part that I did not fully conceive of until you explained the humiliation of the experience and how it impacted you and your fellow Book Club members.

We also erred by placing an inaccurate post on our Facebook site that was not reflective of what actually occurred. In the haste to respond to criticism and news inquires, we made a bad situation worse by rushing to answer questions on social media. We quickly removed the inaccurate post, but the harm was done by our erroneous post.

In summary, we were accurately insensitive to you and the members of the Book Club. Please accept my apologies for our many mistakes and failures. We pride ourselves our hospitality and our desire to please our guests on the Napa Valley Wine Train. In this instance, we failed in every measure of the meaning of good service, respect and hospitality.

I appreciate your recommendation that our staff, which I believe to be among the best, could use additional cultural diversity and sensitivity training. I pledge to make sure that occurs and I plan to participate myself.

As I offered in my conversation with you today, please accept my personal apologies for your experience and the experience of the Book Club members. I would like to invite you and other members to return plus 39 other guests (you can fill an entire car of 50) as my personal guests in a reserved car where you can enjoy yourselves as loudly as you desire.

I want to conclude again by offering my apologies for your terrible experience.

That is freaking masterful. Let’s fit it to our template:

  1. It uses the words “I’m sorry” or “I apologize,” repeatedly.
  2. It names the offense. Indeed, it names multiple offenses (“many mistakes and failures,” from booting the club to shaming the club to posting the hideous Facebook message), one of which hadn’t even appeared in the media coverage: The fact that the women had informed the company when they MADE THEIR RESERVATION that they’d be boisterous and fun-loving.
  3. It makes clear that the company understands the important and hurtfulness of its actions.
  4. It makes clear what the company is doing to ensure this won’t happen again: Additional cultural sensitivity and diversity training.
  5. It offers reparations: A do-over, with an entire car and the book club and 39 other guests of their choice.

The women did not accept the apology. Which is their right. As we’ve noted many times, the sinner is obligated to apologize; the sinned-against is not obligated to accept. According to the teachings of 12th century apology expert Moses Maimonides, the CEO is now obligated to go back and apologize twice more; if the women still aren’t up for forgiveness, he can stop trying. (Maimonides did not say anything about reaping bad publicity.)

PS. Friend-of-Sorrywatch Janis Mara pointed us to this amazing (really well-written, fascinating and disturbing) profile of Sam Singer in SFWeekly by Joe Eskenazi. It’s a must-read. (It also makes clear that the decision to share a hitherfore-unknown detail — that the women had said when they made their reservation that they’d be loud — is one of Singer’s “feed the beast” strategies to keep journalists on his clients’ good side.) We’ve discussed a novel about a corporate apology expert, but Singer’s story is truly stranger than fiction.

 

 

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