Audience: employees
Message: You each represent our company to the customer; you have the power to win or lose customers for us.
Tone: motivational, light
Timing: 23-25 minutes
You may have seen this advertisement used by a training consulting firm: Two colleagues are talking about a particular company and one says, “Their product is fine, but their customer service is a joke.” The second person responds, “Oh. Well, then, who would you recommend?”
The implication? Good product is not enough. Customer service is what people are buying. And anyone who thinks customers aren’t important should try doing without them for a period of 90 days. When someone says to you that pleasing a customer is hard, ask them, “Compared to what?” To having to find new ones? Believe me, it’s a lot harder to get new customers than to treat the ones we have right.
And we’ve all read a lot about that lately. From Tom Peters, from Lee Iacocca, from Buck Rogers. But let me get a little more personal. I want to tell you a true story about two friends of mine who recently moved. A rather long story. But I think you’ll identify with it.
Like the proverbial average family which moves every five years, Mike and Marsha got the itch to mow a new lawn. Finding the house of their dreams, they applied for a loan with Mortgage Company X, which guaranteed in-house loan approval within 30-45 days.
“Will I need a CPA-prepared financial-worth statement since I’m self-employed?” Mike asked. “If so, I want to get it now rather than slow up the process somewhere down the line.”
“No problem,” the loan officer answered. “If you keep your own books, your statement is good enough.”
A few days later, the loan officer called to say she had lost the VA eligibility certificate. Could Mike and Marsha supply another? They did. A few days later the loan officer phoned to say that they would, after all, need their CPA to prepare a statement. He did. Mike and Marsha waited.
Finally approval came. But two hours before closing, their realtor called to say there would be no closing. Without notice, the mortgage company had decided to renege on their interest-rate commitments not yet in writing and “to relieve from duty” all loan officers at that location. Others were flying in shortly from headquarters to hear customer complaints. But no one there thought to call Mike and Marsha to let them know the closing had been canceled. A couple of days later they “permitted” Mike and Marsha to quietly take their loan package to another institution. They ran.
But that was just the beginning of their experience with customer service—or lack of it. They pulled out the home-furnishings catalogs. Custom window covering came from Department Store A. The master bedroom woven-wood was two inches too short and two inches too narrow. Someone didn’t measure or record the dimensions correctly. Would Marsha mind if the designer just sprayed a chemical treatment and “yanked” the window covering down? Mike and Marsha agreed. It didn’t work. The department store refunded the money and my friends were only out the four-week delay.
They called Store B. Humming to herself while the installer hung the second woven woods, Marsha dreamed of privacy in the bedroom. But the installer came down the hall shaking his head. “You wanted a double-pull wood, Ma’am? I’m afraid the factory made a mistake. Or someone copied down your order wrong. I’m going to have to send this back.”
On Store B’s second delivery, Marsha was afraid to look. “Ma’am,” the installer said, “you’re not going to believe this, but they made the same mistake. It’s the same one we sent back.” They got the correct window covering six weeks later.
Store C delivered a brass bed for their daughter’s room. One hole for the frame was drilled higher than the other. “But it is a $34 special,” the salesclerk reminded Mike on the phone. Mike drilled a lower hole.
The master bedroom brass headboard, a more expensive variety, Mike and Marsha didn’t dare leave for a delivery truck. The salesman promised to send it to Package Pickup while they pulled the car around. He did and they did.
In the bedroom light, after Mike and Marsha had unloaded the headboard with (literally) gloved hands, they saw the scratches. Headboard to footboard. Yes, the salesman said on the phone, they could return it if they brought it back immediately. The sales clerk “had a feeling” Package Pickup would be careless with it. “They do it all the time,” the clerk assured them. It was the only headboard of its kind in stock.
The following Saturday Store D delivered the new washer; the old one, in its 12th year, had washed its last load a week earlier. On its first spin cycle, a smoky scent filled the house. The repairman said it couldn’t possibly have a burned-out motor. It did.
After only two tries, Store E delivered the fireplace screen (without the screws) and a dinette. They had delivered both to the old billing address rather than the one carefully printed on the contract under “Deliver To.”
“Be glad to give you a refund on the fireplace screen if you want to bring it back,” the clerk said. Was it worth the 45-minute trip across town? Mike found the screws at the corner hardware store and made do.
The garage-door opener they bought as an unassembled do-it-yourself kit. After installation the remote controls didn’t control. The store owner promised to have the manufacturer send new ones. They came ten days later, COD for $62. After refusing the delivery, Mike phoned the store again. Ownership had changed hands, and the assistant office manager “didn’t know” about honoring the old guarantee. Old guarantee? Eleven days? Mike took the opener off the garage door and returned it anyway. How could they refuse eyeball to eyeball? They did.
“If you’ll come back tomorrow when the repairman will be around to see that you haven’t damaged the controls when you installed it, we’ll see about a replacement,” the new owner offered. After they made a second 45-mile trip the following day, the repairman verified that the remote controls never controlled. Their refund was uncheerfully given.
Now you’re asking: Had my friends been singled out for this persecution? Believe me, they’d begun to wonder. Was the rest of the world faring any better? Not even their daily newspaper could tell them; the assistant who took the address change by phone argued that their street was non-existent. Four days and two lengthy direction sessions later, they got a paper at their new address.
So much for the outside world. But could they make contact? Now, Mike and Marsha had always been ones to get mail. But the second week after their move when mail dwindled to “Dear Occupant” circulars, a trip to the old address produced approximately an eight-inch stack of first-class mail.
Yes, various clerks responded, the Post Office did still have the change-of-address notice on file. But frequently a sub was on the route and possibly nobody had told him to forward the mail. The supervisor promised to “take care of it personally.” Four months and numerous phone calls later, Mike resorted to removing the mailbox from the pole.
But anticipating such “disruption of service,” they had planned early phone installation: One month before M-Day, they called to have telephone service transferred and asked for a cost estimate. A “marketing specialist” promised to call back because their order was quite “complicated.” After hearing nothing for two weeks, Marsha phoned again. The representative apologized for the delay and promised to give the order “her personal attention.”
Marsha asked if the phone rep could give them an assigned number. Which she did, insisting, of course, that the number couldn’t be guaranteed until installation. Relying on the “96 percent chance” that the number would work, Mike used the number in a national ad for his consulting business. The next day, the phone rep called back to explain that she’d made a mistake in assigning the number and figuring the charges. So much for an ad that reached the public.
Four weeks later, the installer phoned. He wanted to know where Marsha was. The installer was at the new residence to hook up the phone and the house was empty. Marsha told him about the reschedule due to Mortgage Company X’s shenanigans, giving him name, date and hour of rescheduling. The installer had never gotten the word, he insisted. According to his assessment of the situation, “Somebody” fouled up. Marsha rescheduled installation for a week later.
Marsha waited in the new, cold, empty house for the installer to arrive between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. At 4:55, he showed up. The phone worked, but the answering service would take another five days. Thank goodness for at least one inefficiency; the phone company had failed to put the transfer tape on their old number. We, in the outside world, could still contact them.
Fifty-four days after their original order request, my friends had a working telephone. Rejoicing, they phoned us with the correct new number. But when Mike tried to dial the downtown library, he couldn’t. Had the phone company done what he suspected? Yes. The operator verified that they had indeed installed a limited suburban line instead of the metro service Marsha had ordered.
Two days later, the phone bill arrived for one month’s service. Since the phone had been working for only 46 hours, Mike called to complain. “Not to worry,” the assistant told him. She would adjust the bill and send a corrected copy.
A week later Customer Relations called to ask about “the manner in which their recent order had been handled.” Was it worth 15 minutes to tell her? Marsha decided that it was, giving the Customer Relations rep names and dates. “This is my job,” she gushed, “to catch problems like this. I’m going to give this to my supervisor for his personal attention and he’ll get back to you immediately.”
A disruption-of-service notice arrived. Marsha phoned to say that she had never received a corrected bill. “We’ll make a note not to disconnect, then,” the representative promised, “so don’t worry.” They did.
Two days later, the phone wasn’t working; their line was crossed with another number. The phone company corrected that problem 12 days later.
And no one ever called back from Customer Relations….
You’re smiling. No, I take that back. Some of you are crying. It’s all too familiar, isn’t it? The frustration of getting products that don’t work,… of getting poor service,… of telling people who don’t listen,… of telling companies that don’t care.
And in most cases, the problem is not the problem. It’s one’s attitude about the problem. Well, whatever it takes to make the customer happy, our attitude at (company) is going to be to get it done.
We don’t want to be one of those companies Mike and Marsha dealt with. We’ve got to learn from the mistakes of others—we can’t stay in business long enough to make them all ourselves.
We’re not going to be one of those companies that think selling is enough.
Starting today, (date), I want to go on record with my number-one priority: customer service.
We don’t want a customer to walk out of here mumbling: “This isn’t really the color I wanted.” Or: “This really will be difficult to use.” Or: “I wonder if that sales rep’s going to be here if I have to return this thing.” Or: “I paid enough for this (product); you’d think they could at least help me get it to the car.” Or: “The salesperson didn’t have the foggiest idea how this works.”
Never do we want to hear our customers mumble something like that. Or even think it.
So how can we achieve that goal? I can’t. Oh, I’ll do my part by setting policy that supports you all the way. But the key to our success will be you. Each of you individually.
In the moving fiasco of my friends, any one employee who cared could have turned the tide.
What if the loan officer had gotten around to putting the interest rate in writing, as she’d promised? Or had bothered to phone to say that the house closing had been canceled?
What if the drapery designer had taken correct measurements?
What if the rep in Package Pickup hadn’t banged the brass headboard around?
What if the inspector had noticed the fireplace screen was missing screws?
What if the new manager where they bought the garage door opener had gladly offered a refund without Mike having to make two trips across town to prove his point?
What if the newspaper rep who handled new subscribers had asked for directions?
What if the mail carrier had cared enough to check out the situation when mail remained in a residence box for four months?
What if the telephone installer had double-checked his installation orders and given the customer a clue about when he would arrive?
What if the customer service supervisor had cared enough to follow up when the rep discovered Mike and Marsha’s phone horror stories?
What if…?
What if…?
What if businesses saw themselves as the candidate and the customers as the voters? In a real sense, that’s the situation. Customers vote with their dollars.
Mike and Marsha shouldn’t have had to go through a nightmare to move into their dream house.
Our customers shouldn’t have to be hassled to get what they need when they phone us or walk into our place of business.
You are on the front lines. You see fiascoes like Mike and Marsha’s waiting to happen. Today, I’m asking you to become the customer’s advocate. You, as a (company) employee, practice the golden rule: If you wouldn’t want it done to you, don’t do it to our customers. Take the initiative; go the second mile. If that means making an extra phone call or two, do it. If that means replacing the product, do it. If that means working overtime, do it.
You know, as John McCaffrey observed, “The mechanics of running a business are really not very complicated when you get down to the essentials. You have to make some stuff and sell it to somebody for more than it cost you. That’s about all there is to it, except for a few million details.”
Those “few million details” are in your hands.
Customer service is an idea whose time has come. Customer service keeps us in business. Our attitude isn’t going to be the problem. Your attitude—those of you who are on the front lines with customer contact—your attitude toward the customer will be our key to success. That’s what our market is buying. That’s what we’re selling.
