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Sorry for the extended absence.  Life has been good lately, which tends to mean “busy.”  But I had an unwanted experience recently that went to the heart of what I do, so I thought I’d share. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought to tell such a story.   Consider this a living example, if you will, of why it’s important to review one’s customer service policies and practices from time to time. 

Very recently, the father of a dear friend passed away suddenly.  I was hundreds of miles away at the time, and the wake and funeral took place so quickly that coming back was not AN option.  So, option two was to send sympathy flowers.

Now, to be honest, flowers are a commodity to me.  I’ve ordered from numerous florists and services, and have yet to be really disappointed.  So I clicked at the top of the Google search results, a very well known powerhouse brand which I hadn’t used before.  Let’s just call them Giant Florist X. Didn’t give it a second thought.

The ordering process was easy enough.  I knew that requesting the order to arrive at the location in under 24 hours was probably a stretch (the wake was scheduled very quickly).  Nonetheless, the website, in spite of a standard disclaimer, allowed the order, and my credit card was processed.

Sure enough, the very next day, I received an e-mail advising that the order would not be fulfilled on time for the wake.  I wasn’t given a reason, and I was told that Giant Florist X had tried unsuccessfully to call me (although I saw no missed calls on my phone). In spite of that, I wasn’t terribly surprised, and replied to the e-mail requesting instructions, asking that Giant Florist X press on and deliver the following day, in time for the funeral.  I would have been impressed had they filled the order in the space of 12 hours, so I wasn’t terribly angry.

The second day following the initial placement of the order came and went with no correspondence or other contact from Giant Florist X. My affairs didn’t allow me the time to follow up that day, nor did they until late in the third day after the order (or a day after the funeral).  I had still heard nothing, although I did receive a handsome, standardized HTML e-survey.  This jogged me to call customer service.

When I called, the young man in the call center was polite.  He politely advised that my order had never been fulfilled.  He also politely responded to my inquiries.  1) He had no idea why the order couldn’t be fulfilled..  2) He had no idea about the identity of the local florist who had failed. 3) He had no idea why I had not been notified in any way, shape or form that the product I had purchased had not been shipped.

He then politely asked if I’d like to have the order fulfilled at that time.  Two days after the funeral.  I impolitely declined and demanded a refund. He politely complied.

Shortly thereafter, I sent two emails to the customer service department requesting reasons for this failure.  In my idealistic world, at least, the market works in a fairly simple manner.  The customer pays for a product or service.  The merchant delivers said product or service.  If the merchant cannot fulfill his/her part of the agreement, he, at a minimum, advises said customer.  It would appear that our giant florist missed that part of the equation in my case.

My two e-mails were quickly and efficiently responded to by an auto-response form.  Polite. Courteous.  Advised me I’d get an answer soon.

That was about a week ago. 

So I filled out the beautiful and well-thought out e-survey.  You can probably guess how this company did from my perspective.

I heard back on this correspondence within an hour of my completing the survey.  Also an auto-response, designed to react, no doubt, to scores falling below a certain level.  It was a lovely, HTML e-letter from Joe Suchandsuch, EVP of Glorious Customer Experiences.  Joe very eloquently and generally apologized to his faceless audience for our collectively disappointing experience, and went on to tout the company’s 100 years of success.  Delightful, but hardly helpful or even effective.  In fact, a bit off-putting.   For all the auto-responder knew, I was complaining that my flowers hadn’t been delivered by way of UFO, in a plutonium box.  There wasn’t a touch of personality in the “apology” generated by Giant Florist X.

Oh, and I’m still waiting for a response.

I think it’s fair to say that all companies, large and small, screw up from time to time.  One of the best ways to measure such a business (not the only, but one way) is how they react to said screw up.  In this case?  Failure.

The moral of the story?  Automation and good policy can be great ingredients to ensuring a good customer experience.  But personal touch and attention to each customer is critical.  In my case, the system designed to ensure that no one would fall through the cracks actually made things worse.  I found it enraging that nobody could find a way to respond to my inquiry, but that I instead was provided with an automatically generated apology/advertisement.  With all that automation, I’d have expected someone to advise me that the product I bought wouldn’t be delivered.  But the onus, apparently, fell upon me to discover whether or not Giant Florist X had lived up to its end of the bargain.

 

My point is that it’s good to kick the tires on your customer service.  Then do it again.  And again.  And listen.  It’s still one of the keys to any good business.  Unfortunately, many of the big ones, especially, seem to forget that.

Epilogue (Added July 8, 2011)

In a classic move with all the personalization of a carpet bombing mass e-mail campaign, I received an HTML promo about 2 weeks after posting this blog.  Just a typical promotion–nothing special.  “5% off your next purchase” or some-such. Of course, I am still awaiting a reply to my multiple e-mails to customer service. 

How long do you think it took me to “unsubscribe?”  The real question, I guess, is this:  how long will it take my tone deaf friends to actually remove me from their list?