Skip to main content

Good Customer Service Pays More Than Bucks

Cell phone fees are the bane of our existence, yes? Sure, that may be putting a little too much emphasis on them. But I do actually believe they are a terrible way to run a business, and an assurance that the person paying them will never forget, and may likely never use that company again.

As I write this $200 check to a cell phone company I will never work with again, I am thinking of all the outrageously bad customer service, and bad business practices, I have suffered through this year and wonder if the current recessionary climate might change some of that. When consumers have less to spend, like moi, consumers are going to go for bargains — but also where they're appreciated.

Case in point. I recently ordered a book for an interview I needed to do. One online service promised me the book, because I live in Manhattan, the next day. It was cheaper than the bigger named online store I normally use. But I am searching for some bargains right now.

I ordered the book. I got an email. It wasn't coming for 5 days. I called their customer service people and they basically said, too bad for you. It was phrased better than that. There were tons of apologies peppering the short conversation. But they couldn't rescind the order. Nor could they get me the book. On time. What I could do is re-order, pay a rush fee, refuse the slower book and get a credit in a few weeks.

I bought the book instead from the bigger chain. And I will never use the other service -- despite it being cheaper -- again.

I hope companies are listening. I'm going to start making decisions with my wallet this coming year based on some old-fashioned values. And I know I won't be the only one.


Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …