Want Better Customer Service? Write, Don't Call.

I’m one of those people who find it extremely sad that, in today’s world, the terms Customer Service, and the more corporately-comforting, Customer Care, have, for all intents and purposes, become completely oxymoronic.

Full up to here with false hope and promises.

Or, as Paul Simon more eloquently put it, although on a different topic, “All lies and jest”.

Time was that merchants didn’t need fancy phrases and corporate-speak to remind them that “the customer is always right”, or for the more commercially adroit, “the customer may not always be right, but she’s always the customer”. Service came with a smile, which grew broader when the transaction was consummated at the register, and broader still with each return visit from the happy customer. Nowadays, the personal touch is rare at the point of purchase; and virtually non-existent afterwards. Once the card has been debited and the merchandise has left the premises, it’s generally, “Got a problem? Take a number.”

And you do. And call it, because it’s the direct line to Customer Service, and the promise of satisfaction that term still implies; even in spite of prior experiences to the contrary. Besides, the human condition is one of faith, hope and resilience - maybe this is the occasion on which you’ll later reflect upon your surprise and delight, at the promise of Customer Service actually being fulfilled?

So once more, you dial in to the pre-recorded brightness of a warmly-welcoming woman’s voice (ain’t it always?) which acknowledges your expectations, even though you’ve heard it all before, by reinforcing early in the script, that “Customer Satisfaction is our Number One priority”. Even if you want to take issue with that, you can’t, as the uninterruptible voice moves on, its carefully crafted cadence controlling the pace of the call, providing no opportunity for genuine interaction, but instead a choice of numbered options; your selection leading you to another warm, welcoming, but equally person-less voice, prompting you to provide personal or account details and information specific to the reason for your call, “to help our trained Customer Service Officers provide assistance as quickly and efficiently as possible”. Yeah, right. I can hardly wait. Like I have a choice anyway. Tick, tock.

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Customer Service Help line. A contradiction in terms.

As you’re drawn again into the frustratingly time-consuming parallel universe that is telephonic Customer Relations, the enforced commercial messages that mark your glacial passage towards the voice of a real person are frequently, but pointlessly, interleaved by the return of the pre-recorded voice, perfectly-pitched between polite apology and reassuring efficiency, pretending to empathise with your disappointment that “all our operators are busy at this time”, but contending nonetheless that, “your call is important to us, and your place in the prioritised queue is secure”. Yawn.... if sincerity can ever be synthesised any better, you’ll hear it here first. Tick, tock.

By now you’re held hostage by your own unwillingness to hang up in anger, having usually wasted at least 15 minutes (but seems much longer) getting this far; so you have no choice but to continue submitting to that relentless bombardment of corporate self-aggrandisement, purporting to be to your benefit, as a ‘valued customer’, but in reality contributing to a growing sense of such pure outrage at your valuable time being so glibly taken for granted that it can be wasted at the whim of the probably tiny number of real people allegedly preparing themselves to provide the kind of personal assistance you’d be entitled to expect, given the commitment to exemplary Customer Service so proudly proclaimed in the introductory message, not to mention how much information you’ve already had to pre-feed them just so they can do the job they’re being paid for; but who have so far shown so little inclination to even attempt to pick up the damn phone, (sorry, got a bit carried away), that it’s probably..... a good thing.... to relieve the tension... by reminding yourself of that other clause in the introductory message....the one that informs you that “this call may be monitored and recorded for training purposes”, and which now sparks in your sub-conscious an instantly calmative warning flash that, figuratively speaking, should you give voice to your frustrations in the manner you’d like, “anything you say, can, and is very likely to be, held against you in a Libel Court”.

And besides, because of that previously mentioned 'human condition' from which hope insists on continuing to spring eternal, you still don't know whether this is going to be The Payoff Call, when you're for once connected - literally, with a real person, who's trained well enough to understand your problem, and trusts themself enough to risk solving it. (That preceding "call may be monitored..." message is much more about stifling initiative and enterprise on the part of the unfortunate prompt-following script-reader on the other end of the line, than it is about catching you in a moment of anger).

So, you force yourself to breathe deeply, and prepare to speak slowly, clearly and without rancour or argument, (should the call actually be picked up prior to the automatic disconnect after the predetermined number of rings - don’t get me started), in order to both obtain satisfaction, and obviate the possibility of any consequent event involving the use of your name in a sentence beginning with, “Let the recording show, your Honour...” Tick, tock.

And so it goes....

...familiar I’m sure to many people reading this. Though, not for a moment am I assuming that many people are in fact still reading; my summary of the problem has turned out to be almost as drawn out as an actual call. My apologies. No, really, I apologise, Reader Satisfaction is my Number One priority, after all.

Of course, given the headline of this article, you won't be surprised to learn at this point that the only purpose of all that’s gone before, has been to illustrate the frustration and pointlessness that motivated me to eschew the phone, in a recent attempt to obtain recourse from a manufacturer whose product had left me feeling somewhat unfulfilled (as you'll see), and instead, resort to the old-fashioned written word.

But not the old-fashioned way, a letter in an envelope, marked with a return address. No need to waste time on that. An email. Faster than the phone, but nonetheless, still a Formal Written Complaint, - though in keeping with the relative 'smallness' of the issue. Pleasant, but purposeful, ie; "I'm unhappy, and I'd like you to know it." As below:

To be honest, I didn’t have high expectations of a satisfactory response; I really only wrote the letter because I wanted to make someone aware, but in a tone proportionate to the problem, which wasn’t that big a deal, but I knew that would test the staying power, much less the level of interest, of anyone I was likely to encounter on the wait-line to Customer Service.

But, it actually worked a treat. The very next day, I received a polite and pleasant reply from the Group Quality Manager, (maybe they've 'eschewed' (geddit?) the entire Customer Service concept...?), assuring me that the manufacturers of the Lucky Natural Walnuts & Raisins Six Pack were glad of the feedback, concerned about the problem, and intended to take remedial action......

It gets better.

Remember how, once upon a time (this really is in the olden days, I know.....) if you lodged a reasonable complaint with a manufacturer, it wasn't totally unexpected that they would not only resolve the issue, but often also send you an 'apology' pack, with a letter saying "Sorry about the inconvenience, thanks for your patience, and here's a few items for you to enjoy, with our compliments"?

Well, it embarasses me now, to admit to having wondered, a little cynically... why the man from Select Harvests would ask in his email, "Would you be able to provide me with an address to send formal correspondence to?"

In fact, I was so sure that I'd hear no more from the manufacturers of the too-often-empty Lucky Walnuts & Raisins Six Pack, that I'd actually replied back to their polite email with a slightly offhand "Thanks for coming back to me, I appreciate it. But, I'll bet your contract packer's response will be "Nah, mate, couldn't happen".

So, imagine my surprise...(sorry, couldn't help myself) when, a few weeks later I did receive "formal correspondence" from my man at Select Harvests, explaining that the issue of the random emptiness of the odd Lucky Walnuts & Raisins Six Pack single serve had been identified as a flaw in the automatic weight-checking equipment on the production line; that steps had been taken to prevent this from continuing to occur, and that the company was grateful for the feedback. So grateful, it turned out, that the letter was also accompanied by a superb selection of dried fruits and nuts, from the Select Harvests Premium range "for you to enjoy, with our compliments."

And they say there's no Santa Claus.

Is there a lesson here?

Probably not. Other than to observe that old-fashioned values like politeness and courtesy still tend to beget each other. But perhaps, if this little allegory is any guide, more so through the written word? Hard to imagine a Customer Service phone conversation in which the subtle irony of the 'un-Lucky-ness' of the empty pack could have been conveyed; much less responded to and acted upon as satisfactorily, by anyone as restricted and constrained from displaying normal human responses, as a 'trained Customer Service Officer.'

If there is any lesson, it's probably caught up in wondering whether the Corporate spinners who write the scripts and pull the strings, ever pause to consider that the individual on the other end of the Customer Service line is a 'person' first, and a 'customer' second. Which begs the further question; How well might an organisation set itself above, and apart from the competition, if customers were able in times of need, to call its 'People Service' number ?

Fat chance. I certainly won't be hanging on for that call...Tick, tock.

Oh, by the way, Select Harvests have discontinued the Lucky Walnuts & Raisins Six Pack. Don't know why..., but in its place I'm now enjoying the Lucky Walnuts, Cashews & Almonds 6 Pack. It's one of those rare occasions where I can, literally, fully recommend the product; to date every one I've had has been chock-full of flavour. And chock-full of contents.

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