We Look Forward to Your Apology

It’s doubtful that I will do any further business with the “Green Fruit Bird” company, and I’ve warned everyone I know about the treatment I received.

Not long ago I sent an order to a company with which I’ve done business for several years. (I won’t actually name the company, but perhaps I can just say that its name is a fruit, a bird, and the population name of those who live in New Zealand.) I had a large credit due me owing to a previous miscommunication.  So it was with some apprehension that I entered my current order.  The credit was applied without a hitch, though. Pleased, I hit the checkout button.

Having the credit available meant that I decided to purchase double my usual order, but I didn’t anticipate any problems; in years past, I’d also sent in a double order.  I followed the shipment and tracking e-mails casually, simply glancing at the subject line and sliding them into a saved mail file.

Unfortunately, at no point in either the checkout process nor in the order acknowledgement e-mail was it mentioned that my order was being shipped in separate packages. Later, more closely examining the tracking numbers, I would find that, although each tracking number began with the same three digits, there were, in fact, two separate trackers. For one of those, I’d received nothing except the “It’s been shipped” e-mail. That notice had been sent seven days after the initial package shipped. There were no further updates. But I would learn those facts much later.

At any rate, I received my order, and was dismayed to find only half of what I’d paid for. I immediately sent a quick e-mail stating vital stats such as the order number and total price, noting the credit that had been applied, and explaining that I had received only half of my order. I requested that I receive the rest “ASAP, please”.  (Yes, I really did say “please”.)

In reply, I received a long-winded explanation, stating all the reasons for which my consignment had, unknown to me and never mentioned in the checkout process, been sent via two shipments. The e-mail concluded with the words, “We look forward to your apology.”

Ouch.

I replied, politely thanking them for their explanation, but remarking that, having worked 47 years under that precept that “The customer is always right”, they would not be receiving any apology from me for a straightforward and polite inquiry and request!

Later I was notified that my ticket was being escalated to a manager. Well, I hadn’t expected that, but decided it was a good thing; the individual who had sent the snotty response would, perhaps, be chided.

No such luck.

Instead, the manager replied with a long harangue, castigating me for my remarks, telling me that “The customer is always right” might go over at a pet store (A pet store? I wasn’t ordering a clownfish!), but not with regard to their company, nor any other well-run company these days. That precept might, I was informed, damage employee morale. The manager helpfully included links to articles written on that very topic, published from such sites of sterling journalism such as Huffington Post.

Wow.

Replying mildly, I said only that my remarks had been in response to being asked to apologize for my inquiry. A truly professional reply from their employee(s), I added, might have been to simply state, “Thank you for your inquiry. If you will look closely at your e-mail tracking information, you will see that your shipment was split; there are two shipments. Possibly the similarity of the tracking numbers confused you. We hope this clears up any question. We appreciate your business.”

Of course, I received no further response to my suggestion. Probably just as well, for I can’t imagine what such a reply might have said!

The whole exchange rankled, though, and was also bewildering. As I once explained in the blog post, “Customer Service…or Not”, the insolence which I endured clearly illustrates a problem about what passes for customer service in modern society: that is, that poor service and outright rudeness are acceptable behavior.

I thought it unlikely that the employees making these responses had been introduced to the true meaning of the concept that “The customer is always right”: that it denotes only that customers are to be treated respectfully and with appreciation. That even the most irritable and contrary of customers serves to keep a business afloat. That learning to maintain one’s temper is an obligatory aspect of customer service.

Seventeen days after this exchange of acrimonious e-mails, and five full weeks after my original order, I finally received my second shipment (for which there had been not a single further tracking e-mail).

Of course, it’s doubtful that I will do any further business with the Green Fruit Bird company.  And while I had lauded them in the past, I’ve now warned many people, customers or potential customers, about the treatment I received.

I’m truly tempted to contact GFB one last time, though, providing links to a pair of interesting articles published by a slightly more respectable mainstay of high-standard journalism, Forbes. These articles explain the genuine meaning of “The customer is always right” in a manner that should be understandable even to those employees possessing the most fragile of egos.

But I doubt that I could look forward to their apology.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/blakemorgan/2018/09/24/a-global-view-of-the-customer-is-always-right/#51993ba8236f

https://www.forbes.com/sites/micahsolomon/2013/12/27/is-the-customer-always-right/#72a991d770f1

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like “Customer Service…Or Not”, from March 10, 2018. Check for it in the Archives.

Dying to be Seen

I’m told by a friend’s adult son that I (a lot like my current computer) am now a veritable dinosaur, since I embarrassingly expect store clerks or salespeople to be knowledgeable about the products they sell and to attend me when I come to shop in their stores. He patiently explained that “good customers” are expected to do their research on-line first  and then come in knowing exactly what model and brand of merchandise they need, from computers to cars, as well as the price they should expect to pay.  The salespeople, he said, are only there to direct customers and ring up purchases; they aren’t required to have any knowledge of the merchandise.

I found his remarks both dismaying and shocking, yet I couldn’t quite argue. The dictum “the customer is always right” has swung like a pendulum to the far side of the metronome of commerce. And in recent years I’ve experienced exactly the scenario the young man so patiently explained.

Perhaps six years ago, I ventured into one of the big electronics stores to buy a new computer—the very laptop, in fact, on which I am typing this post. And, yes, I had done my research beforehand, and had a pretty good idea of what I wanted. Speed was not really a consideration for me, as I do not game.  I wanted a full-size keyboard.  My vision is poor, so I preferred a large screen.  But, as I use a computer only for word processing, spreadsheets, reading the news and watching an occasional fluffy-kitten-or-cute-dog video, I really didn’t need anything fancy. Still, I came to the world of computers via typewriters both manual and electric; my understanding of technology is limited. I preferred not to buy a laptop on-line, without first seeing the darned thing and then talking to a living, breathing, knowledgeable human being.

And so, the big box computer store. It was a Friday night, and extremely busy, but eventually I snagged an unoccupied clerk, a young man probably in his 20s, and explained the features I wanted in a new laptop.  He listened impatiently, and then, walking away from me, said, “We don’t have anything like that.”

I probably stood with my jaw hanging open for a full 30 seconds before intentionally closing my mouth and storming out of the store.

In essence, I understood what had just happened. I was obviously not a person highly knowledgeable about technology—not a nerd, a geek—and the young clerk would have been forced to take the time to provide explanations on the features of any computer he recommended.  I was a middle-aged woman, not a hot young chick, so there was no visual compensation for the time he would have to take with me.  I had not mentioned how much money I was prepared to spend, so if he was working on commission, that factor was uncertain.

I was simply not worth the young clerk’s time.

And yet…eventually that evening I landed at another store, where another clerk, just as young but far better trained (or perhaps just in need of that commission), took a great deal of time with me as together we chose just the right laptop for my needs—along with a lot of minor paraphernalia, including case, mouse, surge protector, and software. With an additional fee added for sparing me the trouble of loading programs onto the computer, I went far over my budget, but the young man even downloaded a free antivirus program and presented me with a fully-working, excellent computer.  And though it is now as venerable a dinosaur as myself, I continue to use it.

But I’ve encountered this same experience more times than I care to count in recent years, especially in one large chain hardware store–one which I now refuse to enter, even though it’s conveniently located to my home. As I complained to the manager there after an especially egregious event, I felt that I could have died in the aisle and not even been noticed until the janitors came in that night to sweep my cold, dead body out of the store. (Happily, I will note that I’ve become a customer of a different hardware chain, one where customers are still noticed as well as valued and appreciated.)

Attitudes change. Despite the once-popular slogan, the customer was not always right, not by a longshot.  But it is also true that the customer deserves to be treated with at least a modicum of attention, courtesy, and respect, and to be tended to by salespeople who are at least minimally knowledgeable about the products they are expected to vend.

And no one, middle-aged or otherwise, should have to die merely to be seen.