Your Customer Service Stories

Your Customer Service Stories - Julie Wales

The Good: In terms of customer service, I'm with John Betjeman.

If the end of the world came he wanted to be in the haberdashery department of Peter Jones 'because nothing unpleasant could ever happen there'.

It's true for me too. Along with Marks and Spencer, Prêt…and I quite like Virgin’s service ethic too - treat me like a real human being and I’m a customer for life.

My best experience of customer service though was actually buying something which was very expensive, promised a great deal - and then didn’t deliver!

Expectations full on, meant that I was far more frustrated and irritated than I would normally have been at feeling conned. I was so looking forward to how much cleaner and completely dust-free our home would be, after paying way over the odds for one of the first wave of Dyson vacuum cleaners.

So, I was then completely furious at the crappy thing that clunked its way around our hall carpet. It seemed to clog up after the first five minutes and then spewed all sorts of stuff everywhere when I tried to clumsily investigate.

Answered on the second or third ring, I was met by a sympathetic being on the other end of the phone. The soothing had begun. I was listened to. I was talked through what may be going on. I think the woman I spoke with even offered to call me back as I tried to wrestle the wretched thing to the ground. Temporarily placated, I followed her instructions, put the phone down. All was well for a while. It then clogged up again!

One more call (but far more irritated this time) later to Dysons Customer Service. Mrs Angry of East Dulwich feeling listened to and calming down. Five minutes on purring contentedly after being told that a brand new vacuum cleaner would be couriered over - tomorrow!

Explained to me that there had been some hiccups with the first models, as this was 'state of the art' technology, I somehow put the phone down feeling flattered as a vacuum adventurer.

As heroine supporter of those doing their best to transform domestic drudgery, suddenly I was defending how perfectly reasonable it was that it didn’t actually work properly. And so, I became a Dyson champion. In fact, it’s all because of me that they’ve done so well since then.

Amazing, isn't it?

The fact is that most of us aren't perfect. And depending on the circumstances, most of us can be sympathetic to less than perfect - if we're handled well. Sometimes even the downright shoddy is forgiven.

When we feel that we've been authentically listened to, believe that our experience matters to somebody and that the quality of their service ultimately matters to them too, all is right in the world - and haberdashery.
It can even be a blessing if our first experience of their service was bad. Not that I’m advocating poor service or empty promises (as clearly they catch up with everyone) but most of us are most impressed by how we’re handled when things go wrong. Funny that.

Somebody said something along the lines of if you receive good customer service you might tell a couple of people. Bad service means you might tell twice as many. In my case, bad stuff being handled very well probably meant I told 4 times as many.

Is this just a measure though of how rubbish customer service is generally in this country? Is it because we are so surprised at being treated as human beings by real human beings, that it makes such a massive impact?

As the mother of three teenage girls, I’ve spent many a weary Saturday afternoon - as keeper of the purse - being manoeuvred into certain sports shops. I have to confess to having ‘form’.

While my self-conscious daughters would rather I didn’t make any kind of fuss, ie, by asking those (to whom we appear to be invisible) if they have it in a size 5. For my part, it does my head in.

Sullen assistants, who don’t make any pretence at masking their irritation that their mobile telephone conversations have just been interrupted have prompted my incandescent rage. How very dare they make me feel rude? ‘I’ll have to get back to you’ muttered into their phones, before they reluctantly offer any eye contact. Oooh, don’t get me started!

There are so many times that if I had not caught that pleading 'Oh please mum, don't start' look, I would have relished the challenge of telling these customer service apologists exactly what I assumed they were paid to do. (Nicely though -as I’m supposed to know better, even when my buttons have been sorely pressed.)

Actually, that last bit is not strictly true. There’s been a number of times when I have been sheepishly escorted off the premises (okay sometimes begged) by the same trendy-trainer-fetishists - who would rather usher me out of the shop without buying anything - to find a safe haven, rather than allow me to blow their cover and shame our family name.

There's another thing – most of us don't like to complain about it at the time – which doesn't mean we're not seething inside.

Is it just me? I don’t think so. It often happens in our customer service workshops, we ask people about their best and worst customer service stories. Having lit the blue touch paper, we tend then to stand back!