Industry veteran and Brinker alum Lane Cardwell, who maintains a blog on chainleader.com, wrote recently about his “fork fetish.” When he visits a new restaurant, he hefts the fork, checking the weight and how it feels in his hand. A good fork, he suggests, is a sign that the restaurant values the customer experience enough to fight the purchasing department over the cost.

He reminded me of my own fork experience. I was dining with a group at a trendy new restaurant in Atlanta. The menu was diverse and interesting. Our server was knowledgeable and accommodating. The dining room was minimalist and arty. The flatware was heavy and had beautiful curves that made it practically rise above the table. And those beautiful curves were weighted just right to spin the fork sideways when moving from plate to mouth, spilling its contents. Picture a dozen businesswomen grasping their forks like toddlers.

At another dinner, a banquet hall filled with industry leaders was served mashed potatoes in martini glasses. Sure, it looked interesting, but not only did they get cold very quickly, the glass was top-heavy and needed two hands to eat.

Putting yourself in your customers' place can go a long way toward making their experience better, whether it's a good fork or a clean display kitchen. Bruce Reinstein, chief operating officer for Fresh City, a fast-casual concept that prepares sandwiches, salads and stir-fry to order in front of the customer, says managers send line workers around to the other side of the display counter to see what guests see. They want to remind the team that they are on display, too.

Many experienced operators will tell you that you have to sit down, look around, put yourself in the guests' shoes. Some will expand the idea to the drive-thru and the parking lot, where a lot of people eat. Try arriving at a restaurant during lunch or dinner rush and try to park.

Try to put yourself in shoes that don't quite fit, or enlist your parents, kids and friends to help. An older person might be more aware of lighting that's too low, music that's too loud, or type size on the menu that's too small. A parent of small children might have an opinion on what's under the table or in the ball pit. A friend in a wheelchair can tell if a restaurant is easy to maneuver or just “accessible.”

Even somebody of a different sex has a different perspective. Once when I interviewed a president of a chain in one of the units, he bragged that his rise from busboy gave him perspective other executives don't have. When he sees something on the floor, he naturally cleans it up, even if it's in the restroom. My visit to the ladies room revealed that his cleanliness priority didn't translate to everyone on his team.

Of course, there are mystery-shopping services and consultants. Those are valuable tools and can quantify visits and help identify trends. Another good resource is Paco Underhill's Why We Buy: The Science of Shopping, a classic published in 1999, which discusses watching customers and interviewing them as an anthropologist might.

But to really know what it's like to be a customer, walk a mile in their moccasins. Repeat as necessary.