At 7-Eleven, Customers Are All in the Family

When it comes to targeting a customer and understanding their needs, Peggy and Tom Wortmann, owners of the convenience store in New Lenox, should be hosting how-to seminars for small business owners. They don't spend a dime on advertising, they're not even listed in the telephone book, and yet their store is the heartbeat of the community.

Hundreds of customers—maybe 500 or more—show up every day at the 24-hour store, located at the intersection of Route 30 and Cedar Road. The Worthmanns, their adult children Tommy and Val and another seven employees, including Tommy's wife, Tina, estimate they know at least 65 percent of their customers on a first-name basis. These are the regulars who show up for the morning rush that starts about 5 a.m. and lasts till 9 a.m.

It's the place where everybody knows your name—and more. They know about the kids, the high school football teams, the marching bands and upcoming theatre productions. They know when the churches have their annual picnics, whose pet is lost and when someone is down on his or her luck due to illness, unemployment or family problems.

“We’ve got a lot of characters that come in," Tom said.

Someone with dementia will occasionally stumble in the store, in which case the owners will call the paramedics. Or there’s George, the retired physics professor who's from Jamaica, or the woman who lost her husband, her job and her house all in a matter of months.

"It's so sad. But every time I see her, she's got a smile on her face. She's working two jobs now,” Peggy said, adding that the job can be a lot like a bartender’s. “You listen to people. They're looking for a shoulder to cry on."

Although the store still makes money, it's much slower than it used to be. The staff really sees the difference. The folks that used to come in every day for coffee and later on for a sandwich can't spend on those kinds of things. Year in and year out, a group of blue collar laborers mix in with police and fire officials, as well as teachers, bankers, doctors and lawyers. Everyone is equal when they approach the 8-by-4-foot steel coffee counter and reach for one of the 16 glass pots various brews of java.

They turn, open the clear plastic doors of the pastry case, and grab a doughnut, muffin or bagel. The train crowd doesn't usually have much time to talk because they have to make it across the street to catch the train headed downtown to the LaSalle Street Station. But many people don't rush to the cash register or run out the door; they stand around and chat.

Young and old, they commiserate about the state of the economy, the jobs that are available and the ones that have dried up. They trade tips about the best way to go about upcoming repair projects on the job or at home. They chide each other about poor bowling scores and talk about the performance of Chicago sports teams, pointing out sports coverage featured in the daily newspapers stacked at least three-feet high upon arrival.

For at least two hours before he leaves for his full-time mechanics job, Tom Wortmann, a rather short guy with muscular arms, mans the coffee pots. He's up on all the local news and knows the ins and outs of the community and its residents. He knows who got in an accident and who got a speeding ticket. 

Peggy, the store manager, delves into any number of tasks, filling the coolers, running the cash register and operating the lottery machine that spits out hope for winning millions of dollars with every ticket. And those for whom hope has long since diminished, Peggy or one of the clerks is bound to offer them some free soup or coffee when it's cold or a cold bottle of water when it's hot.

The red carpet philosophy that characterizes the store is not built fancy menus or upscale merchandise. It's treating everyone like family, said Peggy. "And it helps to have family working for you."

The Wortmanns have owned the franchise, which was called White Hen until a couple years ago, since 1993. Peggy's parents, Mary and Dave Fenn, owned the store before that, opening it in 1982, when New Lenox was still a small town.

"I've always liked being part of the community, and the store has a community feel to it,” Peggy said.