The Customer Service Survey
VocaLabs' weblog providing news and commentary on the challenges of providing good customer service.
The Other Kind of Bad Service
Monday - November 14, 2005 04:50 PM in
When we talk about bad customer service, what normally comes to mind is the kind of indifferent service you often experience when a company tries to serve too many customers with too few people. But there's another kind of bad customer service which goes to the opposite extreme by smothering the customer in phony friendliness, like a giant dog who jumps on everyone who walks through the door and slobbers all over their faces.
This second kind of bad service is usually found in sales situations where some high-priced consultant has determined that the way to increase sales is to violate the personal and emotional space of customers.
One of my jobs as CEO of a startup is to do anything that nobody else can be spared to do. Last week, that meant shopping for a new refrigerator when the old one in our kitchen decided to start ignoring its thermostat. So I found myself walking into a store to buy a new fridge. The store in question is a national chain where I actively avoid shopping because of the poor service, but on this occasion they had the model I wanted at a good price.
It is true that I was not the easiest customer to deal with, since I generally expect to walk out of this store more annoyed than I walk in. But the bowled-over-by-a-friendly-dog feeling began within seconds of the time I entered the door. Before I even reached the appliance section, a salesperson noticed where I was heading and moved to intercept me.
Oh no, I thought, I won't even have a chance to look at the refrigerators.
"Hi, my name is Wendy," she said the instant my foot crossed into Appliances, "what's your name?"
I don't know this person, and I don't really wantto know her. But now it would be rude to not give her my name. "Uh, Peter."
"It's great to see you here today, Peter. What brings you to our store?" chirped Wendy in her unnaturally perky voice.
One might assume, since I made a beeline for the refrigerators the instant I walked in the door, that I might be looking for a refrigerator.
As Miss Manners will attest, there is a particular form of rudeness which is to presume a greater degree of intimacy than really exists in a relationship. In recent decades, it has been fashionable to pretend that this form of rudeness does not exist.
But it grates terribly when someone--especially a salesperson--I've never met tries to act like a best friend. It is like standing too close, or asking a question about my private life: a violation of my physical and emotional boundaries.
I decide who my friends are, and you aren't.
In this case, I bought the refrigerator, but I would have anyway. This experience won't encourage me to return any time soon, though.
Posted by Peter Leppik
One of my jobs as CEO of a startup is to do anything that nobody else can be spared to do. Last week, that meant shopping for a new refrigerator when the old one in our kitchen decided to start ignoring its thermostat. So I found myself walking into a store to buy a new fridge. The store in question is a national chain where I actively avoid shopping because of the poor service, but on this occasion they had the model I wanted at a good price.
It is true that I was not the easiest customer to deal with, since I generally expect to walk out of this store more annoyed than I walk in. But the bowled-over-by-a-friendly-dog feeling began within seconds of the time I entered the door. Before I even reached the appliance section, a salesperson noticed where I was heading and moved to intercept me.
Oh no, I thought, I won't even have a chance to look at the refrigerators.
"Hi, my name is Wendy," she said the instant my foot crossed into Appliances, "what's your name?"
I don't know this person, and I don't really wantto know her. But now it would be rude to not give her my name. "Uh, Peter."
"It's great to see you here today, Peter. What brings you to our store?" chirped Wendy in her unnaturally perky voice.
One might assume, since I made a beeline for the refrigerators the instant I walked in the door, that I might be looking for a refrigerator.
As Miss Manners will attest, there is a particular form of rudeness which is to presume a greater degree of intimacy than really exists in a relationship. In recent decades, it has been fashionable to pretend that this form of rudeness does not exist.
But it grates terribly when someone--especially a salesperson--I've never met tries to act like a best friend. It is like standing too close, or asking a question about my private life: a violation of my physical and emotional boundaries.
I decide who my friends are, and you aren't.
In this case, I bought the refrigerator, but I would have anyway. This experience won't encourage me to return any time soon, though.
Posted by Peter Leppik
Posted at 04:50 PM by | | | |