Sunday, March 18, 2007

Please don't respond to this e-mail

(Here's the more musing on my TurboTax troubles that I had threatened.)
When I was combing the TurboTax message boards for solutions to my various problems, I encountered a few irate customers. Me, I never got angry with Intuit over my own difficulties, though I could appreciate folks' frustration. They vented about waiting on hold forever, not getting the help they needed and in general not feeling like they were receiving the service due them as customers. I never waited on hold myself, since I avoided calling the help line. When the web site said that there was a 30-minute wait to talk to a representative, I was willing to bet that the actual wait would be longer. So, I didn't bother to spend my (wife's) hard-earned shekels on an overseas phone call. Of course, that meant that I frustrated Intuit's attempt to solve my problem to my satisfaction. I basically gave away my right to complain.

It was the third issue I mentioned--not receiving the service due a customer--that really got me ruminating, though. I couldn't call Intuit's customer service bad. All of the customer service people were very prompt, polite and helpful. But the whole experience seemed to be lacking something. Perhaps it was a personal connection. I never felt like the customer service reps were truly helping me. I sent five e-mails to the company and received responses from five different people. All of them responded using forms that said, "Please do not reply to this message." I felt like I was just the next face in line for a system that is set up to get rid of me as quickly as possible while requiring the least amount of human interaction.

I couldn't get angry about it because it seems like that's the status quo these days. Sometimes I think we've sold our collective soul for machine-like efficiency in business. When I have to contact a company seeking help with a problem, I expect to spend at least the first few minutes listening to recordings and pushing buttons, or on the web, navigating through page after page before finding a way to contact a human being. I can understand the logic behind it--one less employee mean one less salary to pay, which means savings that can be passed on to the customer. But I also mourn the loss of... I don't know what. Community? Personal attention? Compassion? Whatever it is, it makes it hard to feel satisfied.

The problem goes both ways, too. Back when I was working, I know that having met some customers personally gave me more incentive to work harder on their jobs. If the job was for some faceless corporation, or some name on an e-mail containing a cookie cutter, corporate tagline, then I would be less inclined to bend over backwards. In both cases there were real people needing my help to finish their task, but it's hard to truly care about someone hidden away on the other side of the firewall.

Anyway, that's my ramble. Since I'm still musing about the problem, I have no clue as how to fix it. Maybe a smile for those service folks I see in person and a :) for those I only contact through the web? Ah, well, it couldn't hurt....