Destination perfection: what we can learn from the Swiss railways

Back in early 2020, days before the world was put into lockdown, I found myself on a train flying through the Swiss countryside.  

I was with a group of 30 septuagenarians who were on two-week rail holiday, doing some research into what made their experience great and what could be better. One of my colleagues is from Geneva and, when she found out I was going, repeated what we’re all told about the Swiss railway system: wonderfully efficient, best in the world, incredibly reliable. So, within seconds of the emergency brakes bringing the train to a shuddering halt, I was mentally preparing my sarcastic messages to my Swiss friend and my angry messages to the Swiss Federal Railways Twitter team: train broken down, we’re going to miss the connection, no one has any idea what’s going on … typical Swiss inefficiency. But before I had the chance to hit send, something unexpected happened – or at least, unexpected to those of us who frequently travel on UK trains. 

The train manager, fresh from giving an update over the intercom, appeared in our carriage and made a beeline for our tour manager. He sat with us and, without hesitation, apologized. Not one of those shallow “sorry for the inconvenience” apologies, but a proper, hand-on-heart, human apology for letting us down and for the problems this was going to cause for a large group of tourists hoping to enjoy a stress-free holiday. 

I thought that was pretty impressive, but I didn’t realize that he was just getting started. He laid out exactly what would happen next. Our revised time into Zurich. The next train that we could get to replace our missed connection. The platform it would leave from and the quickest way to get to it. Then he disappeared to the next carriage to speak to more passengers.  

As the group were chatting among themselves about how good the train manager was, the tour manager’s phone rang. He looked serious, then surprised, and finally delighted:  

“I’ve got an update, everybody.” 

We all listened intently. “That was one of the Swiss Rail Operations Managers,” he said. “He’s reserved us a whole carriage on the next train so we don’t have to worry about finding seats together.” 

Before too long we were in Zurich, clear and confident about which train and which platform we were heading to. Not that we needed to be, of course. As the train doors opened, a station manager was there to greet us. She escorted us to the new train, leading us to the exact carriage that was reserved for our group.  

Once we were all on board, the new train manager came along to check we were settled and, given the problems we’d had, gave us all free drinks vouchers for use on the trains at any point during the rest of the holiday. 

When the train broke down, it was 14.30. When we got on the new train, it was 15.45. If I’m honest, I kind of wanted it to go on a bit longer to see what else would happen. Free money? A train each? The Freedom of the city of Zurich?  

Compare that experience to my usual commute into London, where I’m happy if I get to sit on the bin! 

Towards the end of 2022, I arrived at my local station to find that my usual once-every-half-hour train – the 07.46 – had been cancelled. In a panic, I arranged an Uber to take me and three other passengers to the next closest station where we could pick up our connection. I wrote to my train company to ask for a refund for the £20 taxi fare (£5 per passenger), and was told in no uncertain terms that this would not be happening: 

“Upon checking I can see that the 7.46 train was cancelled. However, there were trains running after this, such as the 8.16 and the 8.46, which were both just delayed for a few minutes.” 

For the Swiss Federal Railways, being a few minutes late was unacceptable. For my local train company, being an hour late was just fine.