Brooklyn

“Irasshaimase!”  
The gentlemen working behind the counter at Cafe Sushi greet us as we pass the bar and lead ourselves toward the back room.  I never know how to appropriately respond to this shouted greeting.  I usually nod, throw a half-hearted wave that barely reaches my belt, and quietly say "heyyy."  So long as it means "come on in", I suppose I've always responded correctly...by doing exactly that.

We sit down and Brooklyn orders sake and beers.  He diligently wipes his hands with the proffered steaming towel, even though we won't be eating, and sets it on the edge of the table.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Oh, nothing.  I just needed a break from that guy," I explain.

"Tell me about it, he's been staring at me with those beady eyes all day long."

Realizing that Brooklyn is talking about Cock Bombay, I quickly forget my customer and move on to more permanent matters.  

"Ah yes, the stare.  Explain to me how it is that a human can look exactly like Grouchy Smurf?"

"HE DOES!  I don't know, but that...is...him." He pours the newly arrived sake into my cup before continuing.  "Ughhh, he pulled me into his office this morning to tell me about how great the new guy is doing."

"Oh yeah, what's his name?" I probe.

"Alex.  He used to sell cars."

"Great."

"Yeah, he pulls me in to the office and says that Alex is already hitting his numbers and doing better than most the store.  And I'm thinking, 'of course he is, he's brand new!'  We'll see how long it lasts until he's got return customers clogging up his bandwidth.  I'll bet he didn't have to fix the cars he was selling, or explain the loan details after that first prorated bill arrives!"

Brooklyn and I have gotten along since we were hired, one day apart.  Much of our conversation subsists on football, current events and the altruistic insistence that the other is way over-qualified for his job.  Of course we both are...and aren't.  I think we're both mis-qualified for the job.  

The Company is so huge that the entire sales process, from greeting to escorting out(another page copied from the Nordstrom manual) is scripted.  Training involves the rote rehearsal of hitting every step in the sales process under the assumption that the customer is an obedient sheep with slutty-loose purse strings.  And who are the actors of such a script?  The lowest common denominator, of course.  

Instead of paying enough to get the best applicant pool, The Company is convinced that it can create a mechanized process that guarantees a sale every time.  Even when the feeblest of minds is tasked to play the part, success is guaranteed by the words on the page.  When process favors the lowest common denominator, everyone above that distinction is over-qualified for their job. 

Unfortunately, our jobs don't end there and we are also required to assist return customers who have problems with billing, equipment, service as well as feelings of loss, hopelessness and abandonment.  While new guys like Alex are totally unfamiliar with the concept of 'customer care', Brooklyn and I have a conscience.  It's the damnedest thing.  We take care of our customers, sale or no.  And as Brooklyn likes to remind me, "no good deed goes unpunished."  So we're really good at the part of our job that The Company pretends to care about, and totally mis-qualified for the part that looks more like a bottom line.

"Then he apologized to me for being late this morning," he continues.

"Oooh, he was late?" I marvel.  "That must have killed him to have to apologize!"

"Well, it was a weird apology.  It went like this: 'Hey Brooklyn, buddy, sorry to be the late one this morning, my kid was sick...the fucker.'"

"Wait, what?"

He acts it out again, "my kid was sick.  Pause. The FUCKER."  He finishes his beer for emphasis.

"His kid is what? Six?" I ask--as if there's an appropriate age at which you can change your child's nickname from "sport" or "champ" to that of "the fucker".

"I said I hoped he gets better and the guy looked confused!  Like he wanted me to say 'It's okay' instead!"

I shake my head as I leave cash on the table and get up to leave.  Suddenly, a second wave of surprise comes from the fact that I'm not at all surprised by Cock Bombay's words.  I shake myself out of it, shrug it off, and pass the counter as the gentlemen working behind it yell something out to us.  I imagine they say something along the lines of "Get the hell out of here, you losers!"

So we do exactly that.

Consideration

There's a secret to customer service.

It’s simple, really.  It’s consideration.  It’s humanity.  Customer service is just about taking a moment to consider the other person.  Consider they might not be having the best of days.  Consider that they could be going through the worst of times.  Consider they are poor.   Consider that they're scared. Consider that they may be needing to hear nothing more than just some nice words.  And because I sell a product that doesn’t always work.  Because I deal with problems that I can’t actually fix.  Because I have to tell you that it’s going to cost something you're not willing to pay....  Consideration might be all I have left to give.

I read the next name from the list.

“John?”

“Yeah!!” comes a shout from the other side of the sales floor.  A man with wild hair spins it around, throws up a hand, turns to throw the display phone back on the rack and thunders toward me, Hawaiian shirt flapping up to reveal a hairy belly.  He’s greasy, big, a little sweaty and visibly upset.  I must try diffusing.

“Hello sir, how’s everything going today.”

“Well it could be a lot better.” I can hear his jowls.

“I’m sorry to hear that, what’s going on?”

“My phone’s broken.”

“Oh no.” I take the proffered phone into my hand.  The LCD is cracked on the screen.  I tread lightly as I continue, “Aw jeez”.  

I always adopt the ‘aw jeez’ voice when I’m trying to take a Code Red back down to the safe zone.  I don’t say “that sucks” because people don’t want to be reminded that about their life.  I don’t say “yikes” because people don’t need to be more alarmed.  I’ve discovered that it’s the most innocuous vocal affectation of empathy I can muster.  So “aw jeez” it is.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

I know what it means.  Experience has taught me that there is nothing I can do to this phone--nothing within the confines of my job description and corporate limitations.  Three things could happen: 

1. The LCD can be replaced at a third-party repair store
2. There is a chance that the customer has insurance or...
3. Maybe he’d like to sign a contract and get a discount on a new phone.  

John, as hundreds have before him, will react as follows to those options:

To the proposal of a third party repair shop:  “What?!? This multi-billion dollar company doesn’t fix phones?!?!”

To that of insurance:  “A $50 dollar deductible and I have to WAIT for it to be SHIPPED to me?!?! What am I supposed to do in the meantime!?!?

And to the idea of a contract:  “Why the hell would I want to sign up for two more years with a company that can’t even replace my phone in the store, that has a shitty insurance replacement policy and that drops my calls every other day anyway?!?  Do I look insane to you!?”

That's rhetorical, right?

So instead of launching into the options, I try and get John on my side and let him know that I am on his.  I take the battery out of the phone and put it back in as I ask him about the NY tattoo on his forearm.  I check for other signs of physical damage to the device as I inquire as to how he has enjoyed the seven years since he moved here.  As I look up his account in the computer, I ask him if he’d ever consider changing his 917 number.  I know he won’t--the 917’s never do.  

Small talk coming to an end, I decide to investigate a little.  

“John, do you know when this happened?”

He’s much calmer.

“Well, I always keep the phone in my back pocket.  It’s always fine.  This last time, I got up, pulled it out and now the screen doesn’t work anymore.”

“Well, John, you can see where some pressure has caused a little crack in the screen there?”

He gets defensive.  There’s no avoiding it.

“Well, I don’t know how that happened, I never dropped it.”

“But did you, by any chance, sit on it?”  And then quickly I universalize his problem to spread out the blame, “sometimes I see this happen where people sit on their phones or bump them in just the right way and this is the result.  Happens all the time.”

Suddenly alarmed he starts shaking his head wildly.  He can’t believe what he’s just heard and I am equally startled by his reaction.  He trembles as he exclaims, “I...I....No one ever told me I couldn’t sit on the phone!”

I nod in simultaneous agreement and disbelief.  I give him his options and he responds predictably, storming off and threatening to go to another provider.  I pause and I think of all the other advice we’ve neglected to give this man over the years.  Had we reminded him that he should look each way before crossing the street?  Did we ensure that he knows not to get in a car with a stranger?  Does he know what a black widow looks like?  The world is a crazy, dangerous place, John.  There are a lot of dangerous things out there you need to know about.  Your back pocket is also a dangerous place for your phone when lurking just on the other side of it is your fat, crazy ass.

 I lean over to Brooklyn, “I need a drink.”

The Bobble Head (Part 2)

“Mr. Head, with these scores that you’re projecting onto the wall, it would appear as though we do a pretty good job at helping the customer.”

“That’s true, Jase, you do.  What are your individual scores on the year?”

Thought you’d never ask.

“Ninety-seven percent.”  I articulate each of the six syllables.

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now let me ask you a question.”

“Okay.”  Oh boy.

“What do you think it would take to help you bridge that gap in scores?”

“Excuse me?”

“What do you think it would take to bridge the gap between your scores for individual customer satisfaction and the scores for the customer’s Likeliness To Refer the company.”

“What??”

“Obviously your scores are great.  The customers like you.  They love you!  Now what do you think it would take for them to show that love to the company?”

“Well, in all honesty, I think the scores they give The Company include things that the customer acknowledges are outside my control.  Like reception, equipment, pricing.”

“But what if they weren’t?”

This is where shit gets crazy. He bobbles on: 

“What if you acknowledged that we have our challenges?  What if you educated the customer and helped them understand?  What if you set their expectations appropriately in the first place so they would know how cell phones work? Talk about the network.  Do you draw a diagram for the customer?”

“A what now?”

“A diagram.  Do you draw a diagram for each new customer explaining how cell phones work?  Do you explain that terrain, capacity and the age of their building are all contributing to their reception.  Back when I was a sales rep, I would sit down with every sale and say ‘Now, Mr. Customer, is it okay if I draw you a diagram to show you how these phones really work?’  They loved that!  Do you draw a diagram, bud?”

“Um, no.”  

Of course I don’t draw a diagram of invisible cell signal waves magically going from a tower to the cell phone and from the tower to the internet to which it is attached.  I also don’t draft a chart of probability explaining how the service I’m selling may not work in all areas and will likely fail the user every other day.  I don’t tell brand new customers that, in order to not be disappointed, they should probably assume their service won’t work anywhere!  I also don’t draw a fucking stick figure standing in the middle of the street giving you the finger because their phone call just dropped 8 different times while driving down Sunset Blvd between Doheny and Fairfax.  You absolute dick.

Inhale.  Exhale.  No one is going to get what they want here.

“Can you, uh, show me what kind of diagram you have in mind?”

I put him to work to amuse and calm myself as he draws, no joke, stick figures and cell towers on the white board in the classroom.  Incredible.

I am sitting in this class, with self-serving people all around me, looking up at this self-serving man.  I am surrounded by people who don’t give two shits about anyone outside their own sphere.  I look at coworkers from different retail stores all over the city and I look back at the Bobble Head.  I feel no pity for him and the situation he and The Company are in.  This is who you hired, I think to myself as I take note of a cohort who used to make twice the money it does now.  You hired them with the promise there was money to be made.  You hired voracious selling machines and you know it.  Now you are changing the rules in the middle of the game and you are attempting to teach sales machines to become hospitality specialists.  You are training sharks to tap-dance.  

After finishing up his lecture on how cell phones work, the Bobble Head turns back to the projector and hits the next slide.  A white screen with 5 corporate logos pops up on it.  Starbucks, Nordstrom, Disney, Ritz-Carlton and Enterprise Rent-a-Car.

“Take a look at this list and tell me what comes to mind,” he starts.

I don’t want to play this game anymore.  I know exactly where this is going. I look down at my training manual and begin doodling.  The point he goes on to make is that these companies have the highest marks in customer satisfaction and their employees get paid less than we do.  He finishes with, “So, it can’t be about the money.  It must be about the attitude.  We must change our attitude so that we can become highly-regarded like the rest of these companies.”

I bite my tongue and look at the products these companies are promoting/selling and imagine what these products would do if they were more like cell phones.  
1) Starbucks coffee would, 1 time in 6, just fall through the bottom of the cup and scald your genitals.  
2) Nordstrom would have to change their “return anything, anytime” policy to only cover the first 30 days with a $40 restocking fee.  
3) Disney would have to put an asterisk next to “Happiest”.  *nope
4) Enterprise rental cars would come with the disclaimer reading “cars may not drive on all roads--steering wheel not guaranteed to work in all areas.”  
5) And who knows, maybe a guest staying at the Ritz-Carlton would get back to their room one day only to find that the door was permanently locked and they were no longer allowed inside.  “But, all my stuff was in there!!  My life was in there!!”

The Bobble Head (Part 1)

            Cock Bombay has a boss.  He is a short, forehead-endowed Filipino from Southern California.  I call him the Bobble Head.  With no signs of an accent denoting his nationality, the Bobble Head is all Southern California surf slang.  A real “dude-bro”.  And his head is huge.  There are times when he begins regurgitating some revolting corporate lingo and I am filled with the urge to punch him.  Then I think to myself, “Don’t punch him in the head, it looks very solid.”  His cranium between the eyes and the hairline reminds one of the dinosaur skulls they found that were so thick, paleontologists just assumed they used them for ramming against one another.  If a future alien archeologist ever digs up the Bobble Head’s skull she will probably lament, “this poor chap didn’t have much room for a brain so he must have made a living by running his head through brick walls on bar wagers.”

The Bobble Head is also named thusly because he is the highest paid person in the company that still has to deal with the sales reps on the front lines.  In order to juggle this task, he must alternate his efforts between pleasing his reps and kissing the collective ass of his superiors.  He bobbles one way, he bobbles the other.  His duplicity is one of the more difficult balancing acts in the company and I identify with it.  Just as I, the sales representative, have to navigate the strait between pleasing the customer while simultaneously acquiescing to the demands of The Company, so must he appeal to both Sales Reps and Executives.  The major difference is that I actually care about helping my customers and he can’t wait to shake off the stink of dealing with us.  Over the years, there has been less contact between the Bobble Head and the trenches.  He comes to the store once every 6 months.  As my coworker and accomplice, Brooklyn, points out, “he doesn’t want to see how his sausage is stuffed.” 

He only watches over 8-10 stores, but he dreads visiting each one.  He used to ask, “What do you guys need from me?”  Now, I think he must know better than to open that can of worms.  

But the pressure to win the coveted Customer Satisfaction Award is mounting.  The Execs are challenging one another and it’s Region against Region to see who can get their LTR scores above 60%.  Shit is flowing downhill and I’m keeping clean.  Our focus is on the customer? That’s where I shine.  However, others need more help and it is the Bobble Head’s demeaning task to lead the training session that will help us better serve the customer.  Okay, it's his job to get the numbers up.  
I make the mistake of offering my opinion in this training class:

(cont'd on 6/7/2013)

Service vs. service

To say that a cell phone company’s service drops calls is redundant.  It is the nature of the proverbial beast.  It happens.  Just has you should expect your phone to make calls, so should you expect it to decide that you are done talking before you know it. The technology is always growing, but has never been fast enough to meet the ridiculous claims made to the consumer.  Each cell phone company is digging itself into a hole by offering services and phones they can’t fully support in order to keep up with the competition who is doing the exact same thing. It's feature inflation and the screens on the commercials are always simulated and rarely reproduced. 

In scrambling to keep your attention, the companies disregard your satisfaction.  As long as the customer can be distracted by shiny and new, they will never be given dependable and good.  

When 4G technology came out, one company said they had it.  By definition, no company had it.  But when you have a distrusting clientele, you can't simply say that the competition is lying...the customer will think you're lying. So in 2010, every other company followed suit, ordered posters and ad slots and proclaimed to have 4G technology.  NO ONE HAD IT AND NO ONE DOES.  So excited was an eager public that in December 2010, the International Telecommunication Union changed the definition of what it meant to have 4G technology.  They drastically lowered the standards and allowed every company to pretend they had 4G service.  The current technology is still nowhere close.  But you want 4G, don't you?  And the emperor's clothes are soooo pretty.

That Which Gets Measured Gets Micro-managed

Like the DMV and the Airlines, The Phone Company needs only to meet the lowest of expectations to keep customers.  Mergers and consolidations of regional companies over the years have resulted in fewer options for the consumer.  Of every 100 customers who vow to leave their cell phone provider for another, maybe 2 actually do.  Cell phone companies, the DMV and the Airlines don’t need to get out the white gloves for exceptional service. Instead, they are more likely to put on those of the latex variety to test your threshold for pain.  

The DMV knows you have to be there; there is no other DMV.  The Airlines, caught up in price wars that race to the bottom, know that it’s the same bullshit with another company. Plus, you already picked the flight--you can’t really take your business elsewhere at that point.  Or maybe they’re the only company that flies to a specific location.  You don’t really pick an airline based on personnel--you base it on price.  You sacrifice service the second you “sort by price” on the website.  Frequent flyer programs are simply a request for the punisher to whip you where the scars have already formed.  Better the evil you know, and all that.

Every year, I hear The Company talk about improving customer experience.  They sometimes even create job positions dedicated to the task.  Some of the most capable people I’ve met in this company have been hired to enhance your experience at the cell phone store.  I've witnessed innovative minds and kind hearts hired to positions such as Retail Experience Liaison and VP of Customer Loyalty.  Within months, I've seen executives cut them off at the knees.  Funds dry up and Customer Experience programs are closed.  Knowing that customers won't leave anymore than citizens will flee a country following election results, executives play the percentages and know that, in this abusive relationship, you’ll just be back for more.

But wait!  They DO want to fix it!  Believe it or not, there is an award for customer service. There is a piece of hardware that The Company wants more than anything.  There is a golden fleece, a holy grail, a piece of acrylic not yet on the shelf!  It is the J.D. Powers and Associates Award for Customer Satisfaction.  To get it, they must first exceed the cell phone industry’s average rate of customer satisfaction...
...of 61%
...just below that of the DMV.

Because that which gets measured gets micro-managed, The Company has begun to keep track of each sales representative's individual metrics for customer satisfaction.  Following every transaction that takes place inside the cell phone store, the customer receives a survey.  The surveys used to be calls to the home phone, but since we've spent the last decade convincing everyone they don't need a landline, the survey now goes out in the form of a text message.  The survey asks for two things.  Firstly, it asks the customer how likely they would be to recommend The Company to their friends and colleagues.  This Likelihood to Refer, or LTR, quotient is the first question on the survey.  It is asked in a general fashion to assess how the customer feels about The Company.  With the second question, the customer is asked how pleased they were with the individual sales representative who assisted them.  This Individual Customer Satisfaction, or ICS, score is specifically asked to determine the sales representative’s performance.  

These two scores are light years apart.  There are times when our store, located in the troubled cell reception area of Los Angeles, Ca, is averaging a 30% LTR while maintaining above 84% ICS.  Since you're dying to know--I am personally averaging 97% for my individual scores throughout each year.  So 70% of customers are not satisfied with The Company and 3% are not satisfied with me.  I maintain, contrary to the opinion of my supervisors, that I have no control over how the customer chooses to rate The Company.  Whether they say they are likely to refer The Company to friends and colleagues is out of my control.  I have printed up no fewer than 200 surveys over the past year that cite dropped calls, network failure and equipment and rate plan prices as the reason they would not be Likely to Refer the company to others.  

I side with logic, and therefore the customer, on this one.  In fact, I have a hard time respecting anyone who has our company’s cell service and is willing to recommend the product to their friends.  I question their capacity for discernment and their integrity.  It’s like taking a bite of something awful and saying “Ew this is gross! Try this!”  If my customer takes a survey and scores both me and The Company with perfect scores, I immediately assume they are being nice and want me to keep my shitty job.

Mutual Pre-dissatisfaction

“Michelle?”

Michelle turns quickly toward the voice calling her name, dispatches a quick smile and suddenly gets to business as she hastens her gait toward my station.  I greet her personably.  

“How are you doing today?”.  

“Yes, my phone is broken.  The screen finally cracked today.  But before that happened, I want you to know that it has been dropping calls and it barely worked all that well to begin with.  In fact, this phone is defective.  It never worked.  Plus, my bills are over a hundred dollars every month and I feel like I’m paying for service that I don’t even get.  You guys are terrible on the phone.  Have you ever tried talking to customer service?  Ughh.  But nevermind, I need you to replace my phone. Oh, and I never got my $100 dollar rebate from two years ago.”
Who me? Oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking.

Michelle uses the Gatling gun approach at getting her problems solved.  She is hoping that, by accumulation of concerns, one of them will be addressed positively.  She is also making sure that I know that her dropping the phone (sorry, the screen cracking...itself?) should be dismissed in light of the numerous problems she has already endured.  All she really wants to hear at first is one sentence before she can breathe.

“I can help you, Michelle.”

There is an amusing phenomenon that occurs just outside a cell phone store every day.  Before tugging on the handle and walking through the large glass door, the customer breathes in...breathes out...reaches...and enters.  The inhale serves to acknowledge that things will probably not go well.  The exhale is an attempt to accept that fate.  Once inside, a reaction to the customer’s entrance is returned.  The sales rep looks up at the customer, sees an already displeased face....breathes in....breathes out...here we go again.

Do not confuse the chronology of this event with the placing of blame, it's really chicken-or-egg type stuff here.  And the parties are not fighting each other; they are fighting the faceless entities of "policy" and "procedure." But they don't know this and, prepared for the worst, they steel themselves against each other.  I call it mutual pre-dissatisfaction.  This level of it occurs in only a few places.  In fact, I can only think of two other places outside the cell phone store: the Department of Motor Vehicles and the airline industry.  

Example:  In the Summer of 2010, Flight Attendant Steven Slater was arrested for cursing out an airplane full of passengers, grabbing some beer and exiting the aircraft down the inflatable emergency slide.  The escalation went something like this:  

1) Lady passenger doesn't sit down.  

2) Steven insists she does. 

3) Lady passenger grabs bag from overhead. Plane still moving. Bag hits Steven.

4) Steven insists she sit down and leave the bag.

5) Lady passenger calls him a name.  

6) Steven flips out, tells all passengers to "go fuck yourselves!", grabs two Blue Moons, deploys the escape chute and successfully fulfills the dream of every young boy who has ever set eyes on those illustrated safety pamphlets.  

People are dicks on planes.  There’s only so much the dick-handlers can take before they reach capacity and have to throw something back.  Each party has, over time, come to expect the worst in the other.  In fact, these two were both acting on the history of the feud between passenger and flight attendant just as any dutiful Hatfield would treat a McCoy or Montague a Capulet.  Now cell phone stores have joined the limited ranks of places were mutual pre-dissatisfaction occurs.  I work at a place where everyone comes in and thinks, I’m ready to have the worst time of my life, let me sign in and get this over with.