• Favorite moments in grocery shopping
• Busin it
• Why I'm not allowed to work at a photo studio
• More Customer Service Retardry
• Customer Service Twilight Zone
• And suddenly, summer came
• A week of educatin' myself
• El Puerco de Lardass en el Metrodome
• Prom proposals
• Family

Friday, May 16, 2008

Customer Service Twilight Zone

It occurred to me tonight, during my 45th minute on "hold" (heh, Freudian typo—I first typed "hole" instead of "hold") with Federal Express International Customer Service department, that I am in some sort of customer service twilight zone, and I've been here all week.

I am almost always satisfied with the outcome of any call to any customer service department. I usually get what I want, and you know why? Because I am nice. I'm patient, I'm friendly, I listen, I don't interrupt, and I'm reasonable in my expectations. People usually want to work with me, not against me, because I am more pleasant than 99 out of 100 of their other customers. It works for me. Once, T-Mobile credited $345 to my account because I was nice, and I didn't even ask. Long story, but the charge was for a phone that we returned, but they never got it back from UPS. I was just looking for tracking numbers, and because I was nice, they told me not to worry about it.

Being nice really works well toward getting what you want. Try it.

This week has been different, though. I don't think I've been an ass to anybody, but man! Things just have not gone my way any time I've needed the assistance of a customer service agent of one sort or another, and the experiences have been as ridiculous and shockingly unexpected as finding Britney Spears' vagina on your dad's MySpace page—you know, annoying at first, then sort of fun because it's challenging to deal with, but then you just want it to go away, and for things to go back to being the way they were.

For the record, my dad, to my knowledge, has no MySpace page. That was just an example, you see, but when he gets to the above sentence about his MySpace page, he is going to tense up, bounce out of his chair, grit his teeth, grimace, and go, GAH!, which is the same reaction he has to the phrase "social networking." So there's your disclaimer.

First off was my experience with sending flowers to my mom for Mother's Day. Here's a handy visual:

When I called, I fully expected that there had been some sort of mix-up, and that they'd run right out and bring my mom the flowers I'd ordered for her. Oddly enough, there was no mix-up. They were busy, you see, and tired, because it was Mother's Day, and no butterflies for you! Three phone calls later, I finally gave up and called the credit card company to dispute the charge. Still, strike one. I didn't get my way.

Then on Monday, I called our phone company, Frontier, because I need an 800-line in our house. Does that sound like an odd request to you? Because it was baffling—simply baffling—to Shalanda at Frontier, and I do not blame Shalanda for that. I blame Frontier for their lack of training. It's pretty mean to send your reps to the phones before they know how to help a customer set up a phone line, considering you're a frickin' PHONE COMPANY. It was as if I'd asked them to send me a Spanish-speaking five-horned rhinoceros with a basket of orange M&Ms and a portable antigravity chamber. I was on the phone with Shalanda for an hour and 15 minutes, and then she said she'd call back when she had an appointment set up for the technician to come.

During a normal week, that call would have come a few hours later, and the technician would have set me up for the next day. Since this is Customer Service Twilight Zone Week, that call never came, but the technician did, on Thursday. Turns out he didn't need to be here. Turns out all they had to do was switch one of our lines to the 800-number. It took another hour and 15 minutes on the phone with Adam to figure that out, but good news! The technician turns out to be a friendly neighbor, so we had a nice chat for an hour, and the 800-number would be turned on the next day! That's today.

The 800-number is not turned on. Nobody knows why. Strike two.

So yesterday, my boss sez to me over the phone, HEY! DRIVE OVER TO MY HOUSE AND GET SOME SAMPLES OF OUR NEW LITTLE PLASTIC TURTLES AND MAKE THEM GET TO CANADA RIGHT SKIPPY! I packed up the little plastic turtles, addressed them to two different sales reps in Canada, printed the international shipping forms online, and took them to Kinko's, which is now the same as FedEx, which is really convenient. Every other time I've sent little plastic turtles to people via FedEx, the little plastic turtle delivery has been smooth sailing. This week, not.

I tracked the shipments to find that one was delivered. Cool. The other one had been on the truck for delivery at 8 this morning, but at 5 this afternoon, it was back at the station. I called to find out what's up, and get this. Here's the official response: "Uhhhh…looks like the driver ran out of time. It will be 'attempted' for delivery on Tuesday."

Whaaaaaaa? What happened to absolutely, positively, has to be there overnight? Little Plastic Turtles, Inc. spent the equivalent of two tanks of gas to get it there on time. I spent 90 minutes on the phone, being my nicest self, to try and get them to deliver the package tomorrow instead of Tuesday. Finally Sergio, the manager for whom I waited over an hour, told me that the problem is that although FedEx HQ is in Memphis, that he is in El Salvador, and FedEx Canada wasn't answering their phone. Huh? I'm not sure what Memphis and El Salvador have to do with it, but he assured me that some Canadian will call me tomorrow, eh.

Anybody want to place a bet? What are the odds of that phone call coming? I'm going to predict strike three.

I'm just thankful it's the weekend, and that I deal with little plastic turtles and not transplant organs or bomb neutralizer.