Coffee heat rising

customer service

Costco scores in customer service

by

If I weren’t already sold on Costco, its staff would have won me over yesterday.

Headed home at the end of a workday made interminable by the mind-fuzzing effects of a two-week-long spate of insomnia, I made a run on Costco. I needed several food and household items and, most urgently, gasoline. First I stopped at the Target, where I found some place mats that would do (sort of) as companions for the new dishes. After a nice long stand in line at Target’s check-out, my American Express card wouldn’t work. Swiping it brought up an error message. The cashier tried to swipe it on his machine and then looked stymied. Stunned with exhaustion, I decided I didn’t need those placemats (knew that…why’d I ever think otherwise?) and told the guy to forget it.

Now I stumble into Costco. I’m so tired I literally feel weak in the knees. The prospect of trudging through acres of merchandise to pick out the half-dozen things I need only to arrive at the check-out stand and have them reject my credit card: ugh! It’s more than I can contemplate. So I stop by the customer service desk, where I ask a gentleman named Glenn if it’s possible to tell if the card has a hold on it.

Well, yes, there is. He checks it and discovers no problem. Barely coherent, I explain what happened at Target. He suggests I call the number on the card, printed in submicroscopic characters, and ask. I say I can’t read that number. Now—amazingly!—Glenn directs me to a telephone at the far end of his counter and dials the number for me! After a relatively brief navigation through the robotic punch-a-button maze, I reach a fellow who tells me the is account is in good standing.

So I trudge through the acres, retrieve the goods I need, and show up at the check-out. There, my credit card won’t work. I explain, no doubt altogether incoherently by now, what’s been happening. The cashier calls for a supervisor, and one Ernesto shows up. He punches in the card’s number and some sort of code, and thereby he makes the card work. Hallelujah! He says the magnetic strip has given up the ghost and advises calling AMEX and asking for a replacement.

Imposing some more on Ernesto, I ask if this means I can’t get gas at Costco, adding that I’m almost out and can’t get to work without a refill. He instantly comes up with a solution: pay upfront by purchasing a Costco cash card.

“How much gas do you think you’ll need?” he asks.

“About $50 worth.”

Presto-changeo, he produces a $50 cash card and adds the cost to the food bill.

Wonder of wonders. It worked. Stick the card in the pump and it lets you buy $50 worth of gasoline.

What a relief. I really didn’t want to have to find another gas station on the way home—wasn’t even sure the car had enough gas to get home.

Glenn and Ernesto’s kindness went a long way toward making a trying day tolerable. Not only that, but the discovery about the cash card will make it possible for me to buy Costco’s gas again before the new card gets here. American Express informed me that it will be the 19th before a new card arrives—that’s ten days! If I insist on going to work every day, the tank will need a refill before then. So, another Costco cash card is in my future.

Unbundled! Qwest strikes again

by

So, I’m reading my Qwest bill and notice some long-distance calls to Austin, where I know exactly no one. I also want to find out what they want me to do with the useless modem the Filipinos sent and to cancel the $3.99/month roadside assistance plan that recently proved to be ludicrously useless. After dialing the customer service number printed on the bill, I again make the acquaintance of Qwest’s damnable robot, which eventually puts me through to one “Josh.”

Amazingly, this “Josh” speaks English. Yea, verily: he’s a native speaker. In the course of probably 40 minutes spent gabbing and wasting time on hold, I learn he grew up in Las Vegas and presently is living in Logan, Utah, where he works in Qworst’s call center to support his lifestyle as a ski bum.

The Josh brushes me off about the unidentifiable long-distance calls but agrees to discontinue the laughable roadside assistance disservice. Along the way, he remarks that he can save me money on the phone bill. Figuring he wants to sell me something (he does, but not till later), I rise to this bait. How, I ask, does he propose to do this?

“Well,” says he, “I see you have DSL, cell phone, and a land line. I can bundle them together, and it will save you $10 a month.”

“They are bundled,” say I.

“No, they’re not,” says he.

“The only reason I got the DSL was because Qwest sent an ad touting its cut-rate bundling. I called your company and specifically ordered the bundled service, and I was told that was what I got.”

“Look at your bill,” says the Josh. “If it doesn’t say ‘bundled service’ on the front page, then you don’t have bundled service.”

“The bill is unintelligible,” I observe. “None of it makes any sense at all. It is a document designed to confuse the customer.”

The Josh does not deny this. He proceeds to do the bundling thing, and now magically my bill drops by ten bucks a month. Not wanting this lucre to burn a hole in my pocket, he suggests I upgrade my cell phone service. I say I never use the cell phone and the only reason I got it is that pay phones have pretty much disappeared and I have to drive an aging car across a freeway to get to work; the cell is only for emergencies and I don’t need an upgrade. He then proposes I get their TV service. I say I don’t watch TV.

He is incredulous.

“You don’t watch television?” he squawks.

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.” This is a slight exaggeration, but the Josh need not know it.

Discouraged, he now suggests I replace the old, perfectly functional modem with the new one, which I haven’t yet shipped back to Qworst. I say I’m not looking forward to fiddling with a CD and the connection, which invariably gets screwed up, and I can’t afford to be offline over the weekend because I have to do a blog carnival.

“What’s a blog?” the Josh inquires.

Beginning to suspect the man smokes something that doesn’t have nicotine in it, I ask him if he’s serious. He insists he doesn’t know what a blog is. I try to define blogging in one sentence.

He says for nine bucks, they’ll send a service guy over to install the modem. I say “sold!”

Now—get this!—he tells me I must immediately ship the free modem the Filipino staffer has ordered back to Qworst, so that the service dude can replace it with another modem, which will cost me $100. But lucky me! Qworst will be sending me a $50 rebate coupon!

Oh, thank you, honored phone company!

Not until I get off the phone do I realize that the Josh has figured out, during the course of conversation, that the modem in the box is the same kind of modem the service person will install, that at one point he subtly backpedaled to maneuver me into letting him replace it with one I have to pay for, and that the Josh probably gets paid by the amount of junk he can sell to the customer.

So here’s what we have:

In August 2006 I ordered what was presented to me as a bundled set of services. This “bundling” never happened. The result was that for the past two full years I have been overcharged $10 a month for a service that was misrepresented to me. That adds up to a $240 overcharge. More recently, I was made to jump through an hour’s worth of hoops while two marginally English-speaking technicians tried to figure out, over the telephone from their stations half-a-globe away, what was wrong with my DSL connection. Their assessment was wrong. Incorrectly thinking my modem was on the fritz (in fact, Qworst’s serviceapparentlywas down, something the company had not bothered to share with its men and women in Manila), they sent me a new modem, telling me it would be free of charge providing I shipped the old one back. This device is a newer model. A stateside Qworst customer service person smoothly switches out this free modem for an identical one, to the tune of $100, promising a $50 rebate. So, all told I’m out $290 in fraudulent and questionable charges.

Charming, eh?

If there was any question whether the robot voice expresses the disdain with which this corporation’s leadership views the Great Unwashed, interaction with Qworst’s live voices quickly dispels that.

“We Value Your Business”: Reaching a person at a company that doesn’t want to be reached

by

As we saw in yesterday’s encounter with Qwest, many companies—often those with a vested interest in customer service—do not want to deal with the unwashed masses with whom they are forced to do business. They make it as difficult as possible to reach a human being, because they don’t care about their customers and do not wish to waste time speaking with them.

There are several avenues to get their attention.

You can often get through to a live human by calling a phone number listed at Get Human. This useful site lists telephone numbers and strategies for getting past the punch-a-button maze.

Failing this, try googling the company’s name + “corporate headquarters.” This often will bring up a snail-mail address and a viable telephone number; sometimes a working e-mail also will appear. Invest in a stamp to send your comments or complaint by snail-mail. This was how I got an address for Steve Jobs, during the late, great MobileMe fiasco. I printed out my post, “An Open Letter to Steve Jobs,” and mailed it to Cupertino. Interestingly, an underling in Apple’s corporate offices telephoned me –several times! –to discuss the matter. Didn’t succeed in fixing things, but at least he pretended he cared, which was comforting.

Apple Computer
1 Infinite Loop
Cupertino, CA
408-996-1010

A search for Qwest’s corporate headquarters gives us this intelligence:

1801 California St.
Denver, CO 80202
For general inquiries: (303) 992-1400
or (800) 899-7780
Fax: (303) 896-8515
Customer Service

Investor Relations
(800) 567-7296
email:investor.relations@qwest.com

Qworst’s customer disservice link takes you to another infinite loop, wherein you have to register and reveal private information before you can wander through an off-putting maze in your attempt to get some help. However, in a past experience I learned you can reach a high-ranking P.R. officer by contacting investor relations. So, that’s where I sent a link to yesterday’s rant about the company’s execrable DSL customer service.

When you believe you’ve been treated unethically or actually cheated, think about what regulatory agencies and trade groups govern the offending corporation. For example, banks and credit unions are regulated by a national banking commission. Insurance companies are to some degree regulated by state agencies. The U.S. Attorney General is interested in frauds and scams that cross state lines. The state attorneys general in your own state and the state where the company is based also may be helpful. Even if they can do nothing, management in general does not enjoy receiving a telephoned or written inquiry from an attorney general’s office; often a simple notice from a regulatory or law enforcement agency will spur a response to your issue.

Also consider contacting companies whose employees have to do business with a wide variety of vendors. Your complaint probably isn’t the first; if you get in touch with agencies or companies serve as intermediaries, you may find a way through the maze.Your credit-card issuer, for example, may have a telephone number that will reach a person at the problem company.

It takes ingenuity and persistence to get past the ramparts erected by megacorporations, which are specifically designed to repel all comers. But keep at it: if you can’t get through, try to enlist the aid of an agency that can.

Back again…temporarily?

by

What’s more annoying than a punch-a-button phone maze? A robot that answers the phone!

Qwest’s DSL connection went down around 8:00 this morning, just before I left for work. After dinner tonight, I called the Philippines in hopes of finding a tech who could figure out how to fix it.

Make that “I tried to call the Philippines.” All of Qworst’s online tech help appears to be based in Manila. But you can’t get to them without trudging past a robot gatekeeper animated with a peculiarly infuriating smug voice. By the time I reached the first live human — get this: after the oily robot actually cooed “hold on while I make a note of that”!!! — I was so enraged I could barely speak.

So now I have this Filipina techie on the phone and she’s asking me how the DSL contraption is acting. Following what is clearly a canned routine, carefully enunciating a script, she guides me through a number of little tests: disconnect and reconnect this, that, and the other. These require me to climb on top of the desk and fiddle with the gadget, because I can’t pick the gadget up easily because the cords, which are too short to start with,are snugly tucked in along the back of the desk to keep all that junk off the floor. Many of the connections are invisible to me, even with my head upside down and jammed up tight against the wall. But none of these experiments work, anyway.

Next she gets me down on the floor, upside down under the desk. “Unplug the telephone line from the wall socket and plug it back in,” she says.

Ohhh-kayyyyy….

Not surprisingly, this strategy disconnects me from the Philippines.

I call back and get the same enraging robot. By now I’m so angry I’m choking and so the robot doesn’t understand what I’m trying to say, possibly because some of it isn’t printable. I slam the phone down and dial “0.” Applying a superhuman effort, I stay polite long enough to ask the operator if she could please connect me to a human being. “Sure,” she says: and connects me right back to the same effing robot!!!!!

By the time the robot ran me through another 8 or 10 minutes of the same enraging hoops (asking questions that the live human would soon repeat, again), I was so furious I found it extremely difficult to be courteous to the poor wretch who finally picked up the phone.

He now starts to repeat the same series of instructions, word for word, that his compatriot so recently fed into my ear. I explain that I’ve already done those things and none of them worked. I also explain that unplugging the telephone from the wall causes the phone to disconnect. He, being smarter than the average bear, says, “Well…do you have another cordless phone in the house?’

Uhhmm, yeah. Duh!

“Go get it,” he says.

So now we disconnect the phone line from the wall socket and reconnect it, to no avail. DSL is still nonfunctional.

He concludes the unit is broken and says Qworst will send a new modem, which is to arrive on Friday. Once this wonder gets here, I have three weeks to return the old one or be charged a hundred bucks for it. I express my appreciation for this charming demand and the graceful terms in which it is couched. I also suggest to him that if he is earning less than $20 an hour, he is being underpaid and he and his workers should unionize and demand a decent wage.

He says he’ll make a note of that.

I say, “Here’s how you spell it: h-u-e-l-g-a. That’s v-i-v-a l-a h-u-e-l-g-a!“ Then, so infuriated am I at the maddening robotic hoops and the barely competent customer service, I remark that after three interactions with Qworst’s smug robot, I’m beginning to understand what motivates people to wrap themselves in explosives and blow up corporate headquarters.

So, I expect the next post you read from this blog will come to you from Cuba.

All this notwithstanding, the DSL mysteriously came back online, which explains why this last post is reaching you from Arizona.

How hard is it to have a human being pick up the phone? And what makes the executives of a faceless corporation think a) that anyone on the planet wants to be run in circles by a smug-sounding robot voice, or b) that even one of its customers is so stupid as to believe “your business is important to us” when they can’t spring for the subminimum wage required to have a nice citizen of the Philippines answer the G.D. phone?

Tomorrow, assuming I’m not riding a black helicopter to Guantanamo Bay,I intend to find out what’s involved in switching to Cox. Can I even get a cable internet connection without having to sign up for cable television that I’ll never watch? If so, can I get out of Qworst’s nonservice? We shall see.

How do I love the credit union?

by

Let me count the ways!

Just discovered that the credit union allows you to give your accounts “nicknames” in its online environment. Probably it’s ever been thus…I only tumbled to it this afternoon. So, I just spent ten minutes or so renaming all my accounts to jibe with the monikers I’ve given them in Quicken. This will much simplify making online transfers, which up to now have required me to think about what I’m doing, of all the unreasonable things.

How is the credit union better than the banks I’ve known?

  • All checking accounts are free: no charges
  • No minimum to qualify for free checking
  • Low minimums for money market accounts
  • No sneaky ways to extract extra fees from customers
  • Human beings answer the phone
  • Employees recognize regular customers
  • Office is located at my place of work
  • Another office is located 10 minutes from home
  • Plenty of tellers are on duty at all times: short or no lines
  • Loan rates are very low
  • Loan officers are on the premises
  • Online pages are easy to navigate and have many nifty amenities
  • Online help is actually helpful
  • Password is not your Social Security number (!!!)

How is the credit union maybe not as good as a vast faceless national bank?

  • Fewer brick & mortar offices
  • Fewer ATMs (but I don’t know: I don’t use ATMs)
  • Difficult to manage an ETF from Japan or Europe

By how much do the plusses outweigh the minuses?

  • By about 1,000 to 1

A$k nicely, and ye shall re¢eive

by

Truth to tell, I didn’t even ask at the Safeway yesterday.

I dropped by on the way home from work, not feeling on the top shelf and absolutely not feeling like cooking anything elaborate. There wasn’t much in the house for me to eat or anything at all for the dog to eat. Thought I’d buy a porterhouse (3 or 4 meals for me) and an Idaho potato, along with a couple of other minor necessities.

All the T-bones and porterhouses were sliced paper-thin, the better to persuade buyers that the breathtaking prices were still buying them a nice steak. You can’t grill one of those things rare, and I don’t like shoe-leather meat. There was a nice, thick ribeye, but I really wanted a porterhouse, which would yield enough for several meals.

So, I picked up the ribeye to keep my hands on it, since it was the only steak cut thick enough to grill the way I prefer it, and then stopped by the butcher and asked if he could slice a porterhouse a little thicker than a quarter-inch, like…about the thickness of the captive ribeye. All the steaks in the fancy meat cabinet were also cut thin. He said he would, but another customer was ahead of me with a large order, and then he’d have to take his saw apart and refit it with a different blade. If I’d like to wait a while, he would be happy to slice a respectable porterhouse.

Tired and distinctly under the weather, I said no, I could make do with the steak in hand. He then – get this! – offered to cut the price on the ribeye!

Yes. The ribeye was already marked down. He marked it down even more, for no other reason than goodwill.

And with that gesture, goodwill was exactly what Safeway got! Not only that, but the checkout clerk was actually polite to me. You couldn’t pry me away from the place now.

Thought for a moment I’d stepped through a time warp: who would think we were in the 21st century? Wish other retailers would remember that customer service = business goodwill = customer loyalty = higher profits.

3 Comments left on iWeb site

Mrs. Accountability

Safeway employees are always extremely polite, helpful and friendly. I only buy sale items from Safeway, but their great personalities would more than make up for the higher prices.I would like to apply for a job at Safeway just once to see what their hiring procedure is like. I mean, they MUST do a personality test on people, to make sure they are “people” persons

Wednesday, July 23, 2008 – 07:47 P

Mrs. Accountability

Oh, and the other thing I’ve noticed… in the less affluent neighborhoods the steaks are sliced paper thin. In our little town they are 2″ thick steaks, much thicker than I would ever like. How many ounces of meat do you eat at a meal to make 3-4 meals of a porterhouse?! Guess I’m a pig! I can eat a whole one myself

Wednesday, July 23, 2008 – 07:49 P

Funny about Money

LOL! I eat a lot of veggies, grains, and salad, so the steak is just a small part of the feast. A typical meal is fish, meat, or poultry; rice, potato, or pasta; and salad or cooked vegetable. Plus fruit for dessert if there’s anything good in the house. Plus wine or beer if I’m not on a diet.

Old age helps, too. In my callow youth I could easily polish off a whole porterhouse, and did so every now & then. These days I don’t seem to want to eat that much. Not that I don’t want to eat or don’t enjoy eating (it’s one of my favorite pastimes), but that much smaller portions seem to suffice

Wednesday, July 23, 2008 – 08:40 P