I was recently listening to an episode of Steven Bartlett’s podcast, The Diary of a CEO, where he was talking about the idea of a ‘psychological moonshot’, and I experienced one of those moments when something just lands. The principle is simple, but incredibly powerful: Sometimes it’s not about changing the reality of a service, but about changing how it’s perceived. A tiny, almost insignificant action can completely transform how someone remembers an experience.
Steven shared a story about his regular barber: Same guy. Same cut. Every two or three weeks. Always brilliant. But one time, something felt a bit off. The haircut looked exactly the same, but it didn’t feel quite right.
When Steven mentioned it at his next appointment, the barber explained what was missing. At the end of every cut, he always visually checked the hair and did one final, deliberate snip. One last moment of attention. That time, he’d skipped it. That was the ‘psychological moonshot’. The haircut hadn’t changed at all in reality, but the feeling had. And Steven had noticed, even though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
That really resonated with me, largely because it made me think about how much of what we do as hairdressers lives in that emotional space. In salons, there are things we do that clients might not consciously register until they’re missing – the coffee that always arrives, the way someone greets them or that final check in the mirror. Over time, these things become expected – not because they’re written down anywhere, but because they form part of the experience. And when you stop doing them, clients feel it.
What struck me most was that the barber’s final snip didn’t cost him anything, but it made the service feel complete. That’s the power of a ‘psychological moonshot’ – small effort, huge perceived value. I talk to my team a lot about that ‘one last snip’. Are we rushing because we’re busy? Are we skipping the final moment of care because the next client is waiting? Being busy is never an excuse. If we’re running behind, we communicate, but we never compromise someone’s time or experience.
What Steven’s story made me reflect on is this: How aware are we of the things we do unconsciously well? And more importantly, how aware are we of the impact when we stop doing them? It’s easy to focus on the tangible giveaways – i.e. the things that cost money – and clients generally understand when those change, but what they don’t always forgive is the missing smile, the missing attention and the missing feeling of being seen. Think about restaurants. The limoncello at the end of an Italian meal or the prawn crackers that always arrive at your table at a Chinese restaurant – when those things disappear, you notice! And what really stays with you is when someone says, “Lovely to see you again. Would you like your usual table?” That’s priceless.
People don’t remember exactly what you did for them, but they always remember how you made them feel. And in the current climate, those emotional moments matter more than ever.
My advice is this: Analyse your service, especially if you’ve been doing it for years. Look closely at the small, consistent touches that define your experience – the things that don’t cost anything, but mean everything. Because when you get those right, you create loyalty, memory and trust. And you simply can’t put a price on that.
