So much for customer service

 

Quoth The Raven laments its death, and sees an opportunity.

Everywhere you go, everything you do, every service you pay for—it feels like customer service simply no longer exists. And even worse, most places you go actually make you feel like an asshole for daring to be a customer in the first place. I catch myself constantly asking, “Why am I putting up with this shit?” right before looking down at the Cheez-Doodles or baseball cap I’ve somehow convinced myself I can’t live without.

Because here’s the ugly truth: service is dead. The only thing still alive is the endless, humiliating upsell and self-service. The drugstore, the bank, the dentist—it doesn’t matter. On a given day I interact with supposedly “best-in-class” businesses, and nearly every time I walk away feeling bent over a barrel. And this is when I’m choosing the premium option. The premium experience is still garbage.

Which is why, when I think about the future, I don’t see the next big opportunity as another buzzy app or sleek new product. It’s customer service. Full stop. Any company, in any industry, that actually treats its customers like human beings will have me throwing money at their doorstep.

. . .

God forbid I need to call anyone about anything. Changing an airline ticket? Calling my credit card company? Forget it. Every road leads to an automated voice system with the warmth of a Soviet switchboard. Look, I get it. It’s 2025. Most stuff can be handled online, and that’s great—I don’t want to talk to anyone if I don’t have to. But when I do need a human being—because no, chatbot Karen, you cannot solve this problem with a “help article”—there should be a way to reach one without descending into phone tree purgatory.

Then there’s the pièce de résistance: self-checkout. Bill Burr has a bit about stealing from self-checkout as payback for being conscripted into a job you never applied for. And honestly, he’s right. You’re not a customer anymore—you’re an unpaid employee scanning your own groceries while the one overworked human employee hovers like a prison guard, ready to pounce if you don’t place the cantaloupe in the “bagging area” fast enough. You’re damn right I’m stealing a bag. And I dare your lazy ass to chase me down Market Street to stop me.

So yes, customer service isn’t dying—it’s dead. Buried. Cremated. Scattered to the wind. What’s left is a charade where companies pretend to offer “premium experiences” while nickel-and-diming you, automating you into oblivion, and treating your desire for basic service like an outrageous demand.

The opportunity is there for any business bold enough to zig while everyone else zags. Charge me more, fine. But make me feel like a customer, not a nuisance. Make me feel like I’m buying something, not auditioning for an FBI background check. Because until that happens? We’re all just paying top dollar to be reminded—daily—of how little most corporations actually think of their customers.

There's more at the link.

The corollary, of course, is that companies and businesses that emphasize customer service tend to do well at the best of times, and in more difficult economic conditions (like right now) still have enough customers to keep their heads above water.  A good example is the butchery my wife and I use.  The owner is friendly to everyone, goes out of his way to make sure we get the cuts and quality of meat we want, and will take time and trouble for special orders if we're willing to pay for them.  I just ordered about thirty pounds of assorted meats from him, in one-pound packages, including some that's not often ordered by his typical clientele and cut in a specific way.  He quoted me a price about a dollar or two per pound over supermarket prices, but the quality of his meat and the extra care he puts into satisfying our needs make that a bargain, as far as we're concerned.  Because he's willing to go the extra mile for us, we're willing to pay the extra dollar or two.  Everyone's happy.

The same applies to many of the businesses we patronize as a family.  We actively look for vendors who will listen to us and provide what we want.  If they do that, we give them our money and recommend them to our friends.  If they don't - if we're just another body or two off the street to them - then we have no reason in particular to shop there, and no reason in particular to go back.  I've taken to writing to businesses such as medical offices, etc. where I find myself treated like just another digit in the system.  I complain about it, give examples of how they treated me, and inform them that I'll be looking for more professional care somewhere else.  A few care enough to respond.  Most don't seem to care at all.  They're too busy being good little bureaucrats in the health care machine.

We surely can't be the only people operating that way.  How about you, readers?  Do you actively look for good customer service, let them know you appreciate it, and recommend them to others?  Or doesn't it matter that much any more?  I'd like to hear your perspective.

Peter