I am a customer service vigilante!
I fly around the world seeking justice for the consumer. OK! So I drive around my world, which encompasses five cities in two counties, but I have, can and will speak up when I feel I am being treated poorly as a customer. Now, I don’t expect retailers and such to throw themselves at my feet, although in these tough economic times, they should. But whatever happened to simply showing respect? Eye contact? A smile or some acknowledgement that my presence is the reason for the very job they hold?
My biggest pet peeve is cashiers who are deeply involved in conversations with their co-workers and treat customers as a nuisance, a hindrance to their having a good time.
A major grocery chain has a store which is unfortunately, the most convenient one for me as I go about my day. The cashiers at this store simply define the poor customer service I just described. The manager engages in the same activity, so complaining is useless, although I have had several telephone discussions with the district manager.
My saving grace with this store has been a well-run self checkout kiosk. There’s a woman who monitors this area, she’s a joy to deal with, so I find it ironic that I routinely received better customer service at Self Check-out!
I must clarify, however, that I know whereof I speak. I spent the better part of the 80’s and 90’s in the banking industry. I had a friend once who referred to it as a “glamour job”. Anyone who thinks that never had to deal with thirty pissed-off employees of a small contractor, who ‘forgot’ to deposit money to the account before issuing them their paychecks on a Friday afternoon. I have had a gun pointed at me, had a customer take a swing at me (yes, we will bounce your checks if you have no money in the account!), have been sworn at in at least three languages and hit on in several more.
Now, some days were better than others, but in general I could have cared less how my customers felt, looked or what kind of day they were having. But it doesn’t take Oscar-worthy acting to convince them that I do care. Most of the people I dealt with were terrific people, just going about their daily lives. Sometimes they were brusque, sometimes downright rude. Sometimes they actually smelled bad, but really, would you expect a hard-working warehouse employee to go home and shower after work, just to come back and deposit his paycheck? I wouldn’t. Sometimes putting myself in their shoes helped me offer my best attitude. Sometimes it was simply envisioning the sight of their back as they finally exited the premises.
These days, I work on a very part-time basis as a Mystery Shopper. When I first began as a bank teller, as a fresh-faced 18 year old, our incentive for great customer service was fear. There were ‘shoppers’ out there and if you gave them poor service, your life would be over! I have fun as a Secret Shopper, but it’s readily apparent that businesses do not utilize the shopper to strike fear in the hearts of their young employees.
I imagine they are too busy trying to get them to pull up their pants, but I won’t get started on that one!
My most recent adventure was a discount retailer. I usually shop at this particular store because their aisles are almost always deserted. This discount retailer has, for the last decade or so, been getting it’s corporate clock cleaned by their competition, the one who always has the low price. Always.
This discount retailer has been emulating their more successful competition, most recently by posting a ‘Greeter’ at the door. The usual greeter is a woman in her late 40’s to early 50’s. A really nice lady, although she’s a bit on the nutty side.
On this trip, I saw no greeter until I tried to get a shopping cart. This new greeter was crouched behind a rack of potato chips and glared at me as I rounded the corner. She scared the heck out of me, and that was after I got over being startled by her! I don’t know why she was hiding behind the potato chip rack. Maybe the panhandler outside was an old boyfriend. Or maybe the pneumatic ‘whoosh’ of the automatic door reminded her of her latest alien abduction.
As I went through the store, I had trouble negotiating the aisles, but not because the store was packed with customers, but because nearly every aisle was being re-stocked. Really, I thought stores did that in the wee hours of the morning, so as not to inconvenience their customers. I guess it’s harder and harder to find those early risers.
Finally as I went to the only checkstand that was open, there were two people ahead of me. After waiting a minute and realizing that the cashier was waiting on a price-check, I glanced down the row of 15 checkstands (15? I’ve never seen 15 customers in this store) I spotted an employee standing at the entrance to the farthest checkstand. She glanced my way, but when I made eye contact, she immediately looked away. I walked towards her and she finally and reluctantly admitted that she could help me. She mumbled something to me about wanting my e-mail address and to apply for a credit card, all while never glancing in my direction.
While checking out, I realized that 5 of the 6 rolls of paper towels I had purchased had been sliced open. When I pointed out the fact, the cashier simply said, “So? Now you don’t want ‘em?” At this point I asked for the manager and she told me I had to go to customer service and ask them.
I did speak to the manager, and told him my tale while he feigned interest. I suggested that the next time he and his fellow managers wondered why their competition was repeatedly mopping the floor with them, perhaps he should recount my experience.
For the record, I do commend excellent customer service. In a restaurant or bar, I am a generous tipper, and in a retail setting, I will loudly praise an excellent employee to their manager.
It just happens so seldom these days that I am afraid I may forget how.
