It was an interaction like a million others. Rather than pick up the phone and dial customer service, I opted to click the "chat" button on the screen. Without being subjected to elevator music or a wait or a single "Press 2 if you wish to speak with an agent," I was routed to an actual person to help me out. The deal, of course, was that it was all at the one remove of a keyboard, typos and all.
No matter: I was looking for efficiency. While some companies have started to add video chats to give that high touch feel to the customer service experience for those who wish it, this was the other extreme. I could have been texting with a sharply dressed young woman with a Wharton MBA or a bearded skateboarder with metal chains hanging from his belt. They could have 4 windows open on their screen, 2 of them customers, one their Facebook page and another with Tetris. I didn't care. As long as they had access to the company database and could type 60 words a minute, it was fine by me.
As it turned out I got "Jessica." I have no idea if that was her real name, what she looked like or whether she was actually a she, but no matter. I was there to order a new phone for my wife on a Tuesday night, and was thrilled to be able to complete the transaction while sitting in my basement in my slippers with three windows open working on other projects. Two can play at this game.
The nice thing about transacting this way is that the interaction is little more deliberate. That's not to say that either side wants to drag it out; quite the contrary. But as with any of the multitude of electronic exchanges we all have these days, there is a different set of expectations as opposed to those in an actual conversation. There's not that feeling of having to make idle chatter to fill the downtime, nor small talk for the sake of small talk. That's not to say it can't be friendly. But like the old Dragnet tagline, it can be just the facts, ma'am.
Jessica seemed knowledgeable and quick, doing some fast research on the account to discover an error preventing an available upgrade, and suggesting billing options. All good. True, she did have the usual overuse of exclamation points that they teach these folks in customer service school: "Happy to help you!" and "That's no problem!" and "I'll be back on just a few moments!" It's like talking with a kindergarten teacher on crack.
But that false enthusiasm can wear a little thin, even if it's only in print. I detailed the model of phone, its memory and color: an iPhone 8 plus, with 64 gigs of memory in rose gold. A solid choice for sure, even if not the top of the line model X. All that was required was acknowledgment. Instead I got, "Awesome! Amazing choice!" You would have thought that I had spec'd the Holy Grail itself.
Even in print the chirpiness was starting to grate on me. "Calm down," I typed, "It's only a phone." Without missing a beat, back she came: "Oh no I really mean that! I have the 7 Plus! And I really want the 8! I'm always so happy and jealous when someone orders it!" I took a moment, then responded: "You need to get out more."
Finally: silence. Nothing appeared in the chat box. No "I really mean it!" No "But I love that phone!" No "You're going to be so happy!" For a full 30 seconds, nothing, not even an (Agent is typing). Finally, almost meekly came back the response: "I can have it delivered or you can pick it up. Please let me know which you prefer."
I had broken her. I'm not proud of it, but at least I had gotten us back to doing a deal, and out of a commercial. We quickly concluded the particulars of payment and other finalities and wrapped things up. She thanked me for the business, and told me she hoped my wife enjoyed the phone. Yes, she did sign off with "Thank you for being a customer!" But by then I was willing to spot her that last point.
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford has a mixed marriage: he has an Android phone, his wife an Apple. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
No matter: I was looking for efficiency. While some companies have started to add video chats to give that high touch feel to the customer service experience for those who wish it, this was the other extreme. I could have been texting with a sharply dressed young woman with a Wharton MBA or a bearded skateboarder with metal chains hanging from his belt. They could have 4 windows open on their screen, 2 of them customers, one their Facebook page and another with Tetris. I didn't care. As long as they had access to the company database and could type 60 words a minute, it was fine by me.
As it turned out I got "Jessica." I have no idea if that was her real name, what she looked like or whether she was actually a she, but no matter. I was there to order a new phone for my wife on a Tuesday night, and was thrilled to be able to complete the transaction while sitting in my basement in my slippers with three windows open working on other projects. Two can play at this game.
The nice thing about transacting this way is that the interaction is little more deliberate. That's not to say that either side wants to drag it out; quite the contrary. But as with any of the multitude of electronic exchanges we all have these days, there is a different set of expectations as opposed to those in an actual conversation. There's not that feeling of having to make idle chatter to fill the downtime, nor small talk for the sake of small talk. That's not to say it can't be friendly. But like the old Dragnet tagline, it can be just the facts, ma'am.
Jessica seemed knowledgeable and quick, doing some fast research on the account to discover an error preventing an available upgrade, and suggesting billing options. All good. True, she did have the usual overuse of exclamation points that they teach these folks in customer service school: "Happy to help you!" and "That's no problem!" and "I'll be back on just a few moments!" It's like talking with a kindergarten teacher on crack.
But that false enthusiasm can wear a little thin, even if it's only in print. I detailed the model of phone, its memory and color: an iPhone 8 plus, with 64 gigs of memory in rose gold. A solid choice for sure, even if not the top of the line model X. All that was required was acknowledgment. Instead I got, "Awesome! Amazing choice!" You would have thought that I had spec'd the Holy Grail itself.
Even in print the chirpiness was starting to grate on me. "Calm down," I typed, "It's only a phone." Without missing a beat, back she came: "Oh no I really mean that! I have the 7 Plus! And I really want the 8! I'm always so happy and jealous when someone orders it!" I took a moment, then responded: "You need to get out more."
Finally: silence. Nothing appeared in the chat box. No "I really mean it!" No "But I love that phone!" No "You're going to be so happy!" For a full 30 seconds, nothing, not even an (Agent is typing). Finally, almost meekly came back the response: "I can have it delivered or you can pick it up. Please let me know which you prefer."
I had broken her. I'm not proud of it, but at least I had gotten us back to doing a deal, and out of a commercial. We quickly concluded the particulars of payment and other finalities and wrapped things up. She thanked me for the business, and told me she hoped my wife enjoyed the phone. Yes, she did sign off with "Thank you for being a customer!" But by then I was willing to spot her that last point.
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford has a mixed marriage: he has an Android phone, his wife an Apple. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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