The Customer is Always Right
Before you continue to read, you should know my background ... I am a Tech. Support Team Leader for an internet provider. Every day we deal with customers who literally don't know how to operate a computer, and blames everything that happens in their lives on us. While the occasional good story comes out of it, it's mostly annoying.
Now, to talk about the customer is always right ... believe it or not, I actually agree. I understand that the computer industry, and in particular the internet, is new and confusing -- especially to the senior part of the population -- and I can't really blame them. I equate their situation to my own when I'm standing in front of my car, looking under the hood. I'm fearful every time my car makes a noise that I don't believe it's supposed to make.
However, the average customer out there doesn't deal with the internet, they deal with simple purchases -- groceries, electronic equipment, gas bills, etc. Would it be presumptuous of me to wager hard cash that each and every one of you that is reading this has, at some point, dealt with a rude "customer service" person. It could be a cashier, a CS rep. from your cable company, or whatever, but at some point in your life -- probably more recently -- you have had this happen to you?
Now, I was born in the mid 70's, thus not quite old enough to "reminisce" about the olden days of yore ... but then why do I feel so old? Because I do remember the olden days, when people were polite and nice. I'm not even talking about people that get paid to help you, but just your average Joe holding the door for you as you enter the local grocery store. Now it's impossible to get a person to help you buy shit. Seriously, I walk into a store to spend a few hundred bucks on something I don't really need, and Mr. Hourly-Wage-Employee is too busy thumbing his own anus to do his fucking job.
Say, hypothetically, that you are a customer of a company -- you have elected to spend your hard earned cash on something that you could have gotten in 37 other places within 5 minutes driving distance. Now, say that this product you appropriate is found to be faulty. What do you do? You return to the location at which you procured this wonderful piece of K9 feces and ask for a replacement -- or, god forbid, a refund -- the Smock Peon, who's still struggling to get his GED by collecting enough Coco Puffs box tops, has the fucking audacity to give you the look. You know the look I'm talking about ... the look that says, "I think you're trying to cheat this company, Sir." Yes, kid, that's right, asswad. I bought the toaster oven, accidentally dropped it in a vat of ant piss that I've been collecting as part of my diabolical plan to take over the alpha quadrant, which corroded a wire to one of the capacitators, and now I want to screw you over by demanding a replacement. I'm sorry, did I interrupt your droning your way through this month's edition of Paintball Magazine?
True Example: I go to the local Pep Boys store to pick up a battery booster for my car. It's the middle of winter, so they're in high demand, and the only one they have that's not industrial size (enough to jump start a small country) is in a box with the top ripped off. The smock monkey tells me that it's a former display item, but it works just fine, I just have to charge it. Fine, I take it, pay full price, go home and charge it. As expected, my car doesn't start up the next morning because the battery is about as full of energy as John Kerry's campaign. I hook up the booster, and what do you know ... it doesn't work. I call my mechanic, a very understanding man who knows good customer relations, goes well above and beyond, and comes to give me a jump. Just to verify that I'm not the bumbling idiot that I think myself to be, he tests my booster, then his own ... his works, mine doesn't.
Thus, I lose a day of work, get a new battery, then head over to Pep Boys for my refund. The pimple faced smock schmuck stationed to assist paying customers stares back at me blankly and simply says, "We don't do refunds." At this point I'm baffled, and say "You don't what?" He mumbles, "We don't do refunds." I explain that they sold me merchandise that I relied on to function, and because of that mistake I'm losing a day of work, and I wish to return the merchandise in question for a full refund. He says he can't. Their policy doesn't allow them to do refunds. So, I do what any sane person would ... I ask for the supervisor. The kid says, "You mean manager?" After another few minutes of him trying to convince me that I'm on a hopeless quest, he finally scuttles off to find the person in charge of this establishment. The manager (henceforth known as boyager) comes out, probably the same age as the first kid (i.e., he couldn't buy beer even if he had valid ID showing him to be 21 years of age). I explain the situation to this child instead, and he gives me the same bullshit line.
To make a long story short, I argue with the boyager, ask him if they make their money by selling defunct equipment, then forcing the customer to spend two or three times the original amount? Eventually (after he tried to give me in-store credit ... are you fucking kidding me??) I walk out with my money. Victory was mine, I had slain my enemy! At least, I wish I had.
I miss the good old days. I can't define one specific thing that does it, but people were just nicer. What caused it? I could probably come up with a 64 page analasys, but I won't waste either of our times with that ... suffice it to say, things are just getting worse, and the only thing I can do is give the best service I can; something that gets increasingly difficult, because the average consumer expects me to screw them over and give them bad service, because that's the norm.
Now, to talk about the customer is always right ... believe it or not, I actually agree. I understand that the computer industry, and in particular the internet, is new and confusing -- especially to the senior part of the population -- and I can't really blame them. I equate their situation to my own when I'm standing in front of my car, looking under the hood. I'm fearful every time my car makes a noise that I don't believe it's supposed to make.
However, the average customer out there doesn't deal with the internet, they deal with simple purchases -- groceries, electronic equipment, gas bills, etc. Would it be presumptuous of me to wager hard cash that each and every one of you that is reading this has, at some point, dealt with a rude "customer service" person. It could be a cashier, a CS rep. from your cable company, or whatever, but at some point in your life -- probably more recently -- you have had this happen to you?
Now, I was born in the mid 70's, thus not quite old enough to "reminisce" about the olden days of yore ... but then why do I feel so old? Because I do remember the olden days, when people were polite and nice. I'm not even talking about people that get paid to help you, but just your average Joe holding the door for you as you enter the local grocery store. Now it's impossible to get a person to help you buy shit. Seriously, I walk into a store to spend a few hundred bucks on something I don't really need, and Mr. Hourly-Wage-Employee is too busy thumbing his own anus to do his fucking job.
Say, hypothetically, that you are a customer of a company -- you have elected to spend your hard earned cash on something that you could have gotten in 37 other places within 5 minutes driving distance. Now, say that this product you appropriate is found to be faulty. What do you do? You return to the location at which you procured this wonderful piece of K9 feces and ask for a replacement -- or, god forbid, a refund -- the Smock Peon, who's still struggling to get his GED by collecting enough Coco Puffs box tops, has the fucking audacity to give you the look. You know the look I'm talking about ... the look that says, "I think you're trying to cheat this company, Sir." Yes, kid, that's right, asswad. I bought the toaster oven, accidentally dropped it in a vat of ant piss that I've been collecting as part of my diabolical plan to take over the alpha quadrant, which corroded a wire to one of the capacitators, and now I want to screw you over by demanding a replacement. I'm sorry, did I interrupt your droning your way through this month's edition of Paintball Magazine?
True Example: I go to the local Pep Boys store to pick up a battery booster for my car. It's the middle of winter, so they're in high demand, and the only one they have that's not industrial size (enough to jump start a small country) is in a box with the top ripped off. The smock monkey tells me that it's a former display item, but it works just fine, I just have to charge it. Fine, I take it, pay full price, go home and charge it. As expected, my car doesn't start up the next morning because the battery is about as full of energy as John Kerry's campaign. I hook up the booster, and what do you know ... it doesn't work. I call my mechanic, a very understanding man who knows good customer relations, goes well above and beyond, and comes to give me a jump. Just to verify that I'm not the bumbling idiot that I think myself to be, he tests my booster, then his own ... his works, mine doesn't.
Thus, I lose a day of work, get a new battery, then head over to Pep Boys for my refund. The pimple faced smock schmuck stationed to assist paying customers stares back at me blankly and simply says, "We don't do refunds." At this point I'm baffled, and say "You don't what?" He mumbles, "We don't do refunds." I explain that they sold me merchandise that I relied on to function, and because of that mistake I'm losing a day of work, and I wish to return the merchandise in question for a full refund. He says he can't. Their policy doesn't allow them to do refunds. So, I do what any sane person would ... I ask for the supervisor. The kid says, "You mean manager?" After another few minutes of him trying to convince me that I'm on a hopeless quest, he finally scuttles off to find the person in charge of this establishment. The manager (henceforth known as boyager) comes out, probably the same age as the first kid (i.e., he couldn't buy beer even if he had valid ID showing him to be 21 years of age). I explain the situation to this child instead, and he gives me the same bullshit line.
To make a long story short, I argue with the boyager, ask him if they make their money by selling defunct equipment, then forcing the customer to spend two or three times the original amount? Eventually (after he tried to give me in-store credit ... are you fucking kidding me??) I walk out with my money. Victory was mine, I had slain my enemy! At least, I wish I had.
I miss the good old days. I can't define one specific thing that does it, but people were just nicer. What caused it? I could probably come up with a 64 page analasys, but I won't waste either of our times with that ... suffice it to say, things are just getting worse, and the only thing I can do is give the best service I can; something that gets increasingly difficult, because the average consumer expects me to screw them over and give them bad service, because that's the norm.
posted by Larf at 10:57 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home