No one wants to be the old man that admonishes "You kids get off of my lawn." No one wants to be the aging critic who persistently refers to "back in my day." We each struggle with the burdens and benefits of growing older and perhaps it is human nature to believe that things today just don't measure up to our recollections of the storied past? That said . . . .
In recent months, I have been surprised by the “new normal” of customer service. That term has never been oxymoronic in my memory, but it is becoming so.
Most recently, I was scheduled for a flight departing in the early a.m. About 10 hours prior, I received the notification “We’ve canceled flight ___ because we need to take the plane out of service to address a technical issue.” In a keystroke, 170 passengers are disappointed. I placed an immediate call to customer service, wait time was predicted at 25 minutes. I began their recommended text process and waited only 15 for a human response there. The autobot tried to help me sooner but offered nothing but web addresses, platitudes, and apologies.
Worth the wait for a human? No, the end result was essentially “sorry.” Sorry, we cannot carry you as agreed. Sorry, you cannot keep half the ticket (for the return), unless you pay the full price. Sorry, we have no authority here in customer service to provide you any accommodation or service. And sorry, but the other flights tomorrow are all full. Sorry, sorry, sorry. The customer service was indeed and consistently sorry.
Merely weeks ago, I was booked on another airline trying to return from South Florida. The departure was delayed, delayed again, and delayed again. Upon each delay, I received a prompt text message that my flight from X to Y was delayed, and the new anticipated Y arrival. I received no texts about the status of my connection thereafter from Y to Z. I landed at the hub airport very late. My phone application still showed the Y to Z as “on time.”
I sprinted through the airport like Usain Bolt (ok, maybe not exactly), bowling over small children and the elderly (ok, maybe I didn’t actually hit anyone), and arrived at the connecting gate huffing and puffing like a steam locomotive (that one is literal). The Y to Z flight? Delayed 40 minutes. But at least I got to meet some nice people and experience CPR from the receiving side (it is actually harder being the patient).
Within the last year, I boarded a flight from Paradise to visit central Florida. The plane was clean, the price was reasonable, and I was impressed by the boarding process. We pushed (left the gate) early, not that common these days. We then sat on the tarmac. Ten minutes in, the pilot announced that we “could not take off” and would be returning to the gate to deplane.
He explained the visibility was below the minimums and "no planes could" take off. Even in a computerized world of automated systems, pilots don't like to fly where they cannot see. I get that. Someone once said "There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots." I appreciate careful pilots as much as the next passenger. Let's all stay alive.
I deplaned and sat in the terminal contemplating my next move, and the odds of making my meeting that morning in central Florida. Behind me, within minutes, I heard the airport PA crackle and then
“_________ airlines is boarding flight ________ for _________.”
That is curious, I thought the airport was closed. And then
“_________ airlines is boarding flight ________ for _________.”
And
“_________ airlines is boarding flight ________ for _________.”
And
“_________ airlines is boarding flight ________ for _________.”
Five other airlines took off within about an hour after we deplaned. The whole time, the gate agents at my selected carrier calmly and persistently informed passengers that the visibility was below minimums and that “no one can take off.” It was, to say the least, surreal. I kept thinking of Mom "if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?" In fairness, we never had a "cliff" growing up. We never did take off that day. But before they admitted they were not going, as the five other carriers all took off, they wasted over an hour of our time assuring us that this was a "delay" and not a "cancellation." Then they finally admitted it was a "cancellation due to weather."
I visited their website to request a refund. It faulted and a pop-up instructed me to call customer service. When I called them, they informed me that they could not help, I would have to use the website (they suggested how to override the fault). I did what they asked, the website popped up and said to call customer service. I finally used a social media tool and found a helpful person to refund my flight. It was a waste of another couple of hours.
As helpful as he/she/ze was/were, I had to repeatedly explain that since I had not flown to Orlando, and as it was a 6-hour drive to get there, I would not need the return flight to Paradise that afternoon. The nice person really wanted me to get to Orlando to make that return flight that day, and simply could not understand that their failure to depart had negated the purpose of the flight. After getting my refund, they nonetheless sent me an auto text that evening that the return flight the representative had so arduously advocated was, you guessed it, "canceled."
I visited a fast food company recently. That is a rare treat for me. Part of my “late-in-life” focus on health has been foregoing fast food. When I get it, it is a treat. I ordered at the counter and was given a number. There were three customers in the store, and perhaps four cars in the drive-through. The kitchen was teeming with bright-colored crew uniforms (about 10 people on the clock). I ordered that company’s signature food specialty (no special requests, no alterations). And then I stood with my number and waited.
And I waited, and I waited. I watched two managers wrestle with a new scoop for the ice machine under the soda fountain. They had an earnest debate on how the scoop should be holstered when not in use. They tried the scoop each way. They adjusted the height of the holster mounted to the machine with a magnet. And I waited. Twenty minutes after ordering, the ice-scoop manager explained that they had finally finished my order. He blamed the kitchen. Well, at least the sandwich was cold.
There is a spot I occasionally frequent in a particular airport. I tell myself not to, and bargain with coincidence. I will not walk to that terminal for this particular food, but I tell myself that if chance brings me to that terminal I should have this food. That happened on a recent trip, with my flight arriving right across the hall from this place. I got in line. The line did not move.
After about ten minutes of observing the staff (I could not get Lucy and Ethel out of my head for some reason), the manager announced "I am closing the register." The "kitchen is backed up and we have to catch up." There were, literally, 5-7 people waiting on food. This restaurant literally has sandwiches, fries, and drinks. They had 5-7 orders on the line and the four employees were not up to handling the challenge. There were groans and complaints. But what can you do? We walked away disappointed, but actually healthier.
In June, I placed an order from an online retailer. The projected (not promised, there are no promises. I get that) arrival date came and went. I frankly forgot about the order. When I returned to the website to check, I had a message “your order is late, it is now projected for ________.” Well that was just a few more days. They provided a representation that the order had been “picked up by carrier” on a particular recent date and provided a “tracking number.” They did not say who the carrier was.
I tried that tracking number (a number that is specific to a particular package) on the website of every shipping company I could find. Not a single positive response. I texted the retailer, who advised that they were not responsible as the order I placed with them was actually delegated by them to a “partner.” I texted the partner through the website. All I got was Genesis (“no reply, no reply at all”)(Atlantic, 1981). I returned to the folks I place my order with, and they said “we’re sorry, the vendor should respond in 48 hours.”
I waited. I waited. And two days later I returned again to the vendor from who I had ordered. They advised again to wait 48 hours (in the same message thread). I explained that my first entreaty to them was on day one, and that twenty-four hours had passed. I explained that after that, another 24 hours had passed. I did the math for them and suggested that many might conclude that 24 and 24 is actually quite close to 48. Customer assistance replied and acknowledged the math, but suggested again that I wait 48 hours.
Surprisingly, I then received a response from the company they delegated me to. The message? The item is “out of stock and cannot be shipped.” But, you see, it was already shipped. You said so. You gave me an imaginary tracking number. You wasted my time. I asked for an explanation. Genesis again.
Just last week, I entered the drive-thru of an upscale restaurant for a simple iced tea. I ordered, waited in the line of cars, and eventually arrived at the window. The wait allowed me to catch up on the news on my phone. There was no employee at the window. There was a tea inside the window. Tantalizingly close, but not within reach. And I sat. And sat.
After ten minutes of watching the employees joke, and josh at the far end of the kitchen, I called the store. I waded through its mandatory recitation of its fax number, its catering process, its address, store hours, and more. I finally got a human and asked that they hand me the tea. The manager of the store. And there was the briefest apology for the incompetence and inattention. The experience was not encouraging. The tea there is quite good, but is it worth the challenge?
It is likely me. I am probably just expecting too much. My memories of customer service in the "old days" are likely not real, and I imagined a time when people actually seemed to care about things. And perhaps customers everywhere are getting stellar customer service and I am having bad luck? Or, am I merely an example in a world of seemingly, generally, and increasingly disinterested and disconnected workers? Has the term "customer service" become a punchline, a bad joke?
I struggle with that. I strive to be responsive and proactive. I am not perfect. I am concerned about the customer service we deliver. I am concerned that there are people out there that feel they do not get a straight answer at the OJCC ("no one can take off, the visibility is too low").
I would very much like to hear from you if that is the case. Are we providing timely and efficient service or are we just getting by? Can we do better, if so how? Are you frustrated and disillusioned with our process, technology, and communication? Please reach out and be critical. Offer suggestions. If we are not doing well, our only chance for improvement is for you to tell us.
That communication thankfully happens. I received an email last week from a frustrated attorney. A mediation had been held, but no mediation agreement provided for signature. The attorney had searched our website for contact information for the mediator, called the assigned judge's office to be told (incorrectly) we don't have the mediator's email address, and was eventually provided a telephone number that was not answered. That was frustrating to hear.
The attorney related contacting the "OJCC office in Tallahassee," which might mean the clerk's office, Judge Newman's office, or perhaps someone specific. The lawyer was provided with a description of email addresses generally and the Orlando district phone number. Neither of those brought fruit. In general, I sensed the attorney felt like someone sitting at a vacant drive-thru yearning for tea.
It is helpful perhaps that Florida has a directory for all state employees. If you seek such information, it can be reached from our www.fljcc.org website (look for the "411" icon on the bottom of the front page). But, we have responded to this attorney's challenge by adding a phone numbers and email addresses to the OJCC website itself, under the "Mediator" tab.
I am disappointed in the experience that the attorney had striving to reach a mediator. In the first instance, it is disappointing that the attorney needed to contact the mediator. But, everyone gets busy, distracted, and challenged from time to time. If you cannot find help, email me a question. You may cause a change in our efforts. I am easy to reach. Keep the questions general, and avoid referencing a particular case when possible. We must remain cognizant of ex-parte communication, but we can strive to be more aware and more interactive.
david.langham@doah.state.fl.us
