A lot of folks long for the days of human interaction.
When customer service meant something. When a warm, friendly, knowledgeable person helped solve your problem.
Fuck that.
I’ll take a mouse and a laptop over a phone and a live person any day of the week.
Especially yesterday.
Twice. TWICE in one day I had a better experience on a web site than dealing with people. What’s more, I learned there’s a serious disconnect between what corporate web sites say they can deliver and what their people actually do.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hi I’m hoping you can help me.”
It’s 8 a.m. and I’m the first customer at the Office Depot customer service desk.
“Can I give you the product ID number on these
Pitney Bowes postage labels I’m looking for? Your web site says you have them in stock.”
“WELL,” she replies importantly. “If it has to do with SHIPPING, it’ll be RIGHT over HERE.”
I follow her over to the envelope-box-Styrofoam peanut department.
Now.
If I’m her, and a potential customer went to the trouble of offering up an actual Office Depot product ID number, I’m looking up that little sucker straight away just to be sure I know what the hell we’re after before leading her on a small Christmas parade through the goddamn store.
But that’s just me.
I went to the web site the night before to locate the labels that I need need needed to send out holiday gift boxes to our clients (the office manager was swamped and
didn’t have time to order them last week).
The
Office Depot web site was extremely helpful. I found the right postage labels within seconds on the site and clicked on “Check Local Store Availability” to find them at a location near me.
Beautiful, yes?
No. Back in the shipping supplies department at the Office Depot on Indian Trail in Aurora, Illinois, things are getting ugly: No postage labels.
“Well, IF we had ‘em, they’d be RIGHT HERE,” she insisted.
“Could we maybe look up the product ID number?” I ask hopefully. “I have it right here. Your web site says you have them in stock.”
“WAIT. They MIGHT be OVER HERE, too. LET’S CHECK.”
I look longingly at the PC on the customer service desk as we pass it yet again on our trek to the laser label department.
“They’d DEFINITELY be here IF we had ‘em,” she says again.
And my head goes
kersplody all over the Avery 5422 multi-use labels.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Attention United States Post Office:
You have a problem.
Your web site’s writing checks that your people can’t cash (apologies to Viper).
Go to
www.usps.com.
C’
mon, do it. Right now.
Then click on the helpful tab towards the top center that says “Schedule Pick Up.”
See where it says 'Pick Up On Demand' service?
If you’re reading this before noon, you should be able to successfully schedule a parcel pick up for the low low price of $14.75.
The site provides a two-hour pick up window. You agree to have your packages ready by 1 p.m. You select a method of payment. And then (this is important) you receive a confirmation number.
Then, two hours later, you get a call from the local post office that goes something like this:
“Hello this is Mr. Williams calling from the post office regarding your pick up request. All of our trucks are full for the day so you’ll have to schedule another pick up for tomorrow. Please call me at 312-644-3929 if you have questions.”
Remember the postage labels? They’re for running through our company’s postage machine, which postmarks the label for the day the package is shipping. Once you slap that postage label on your package, it needs to go out that day or the post office won’t take it.
I waited to run my postage until I received my pick up confirmation number from the post office.
I’m silly fucked-up paranoid that way.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Where'd ya get the labels,
Hed?
The office manager had ordered some
from a web site the day before and like a small Christmas miracle, they arrived two days early.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I read somewhere that when you’re frustrated you should smile. It takes everything down a notch and leads to better customer service.
So I’m sitting at my desk smiling like Forrest
Gump on a shrimp boat prior to picking up the phone.
“Hello Mr. Williams,” I say. “I’m calling about the On Demand pick up request I made earlier today.”
Here’s a summary:
“But your web site…”
“But I submitted my request at 10:30 a.m….”
“But I have a confirmation number…”
“But why would your web site provide a 2-hour window if picking it up was never an option…?”
“But I have post-marked packages that need to go out today…”
Mr. Wilson called me back four times – each time with another excuse for why he
couldn’t pick up my packages that day.
He even read the web site to me:
“Mail pieces weighing more than 13 ounces bearing only postage stamps as postage, must be taken by the customer to an employee at the retail counter of a Post Office.”
“I used metered postage.”
“Oh.”
“Requests must be received by 2:00 a.m. on the day your pickup is scheduled.”
“No, that only applies to carrier pick ups. The On Demand pick up section
doesn’t say that.”
“Oh.”
“Where are these packages? On the third floor?”
“Yes, the site requested the exact pick up location.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to bring them down to the first floor, you know we’re not UPS.”
That’s when my head went
kersplody all over again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Yes, that's Mr. Williams' actual phone number. Call it, if you like.
Tell him my packages made it out the door by 5 p.m. no thanks to him and his bullshit excuses.
Chris Baxter, Mail Carrier Extraordinaire, (and sadly the first capable, warm, friendly person I'd encountered all day), interrupted his residential delivery route to pick up my stuff.
He was almost enough to restore my faith in people. Almost.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Office voices
I am reading: How to submit a complain to the USPS
And I am: Sticking with my mouse
