Life is What Happens
By Lisa Zaslow Segelman
I know going digital is supposed to streamline life, save time and save trees, but 100 years from now, when they unearth my cell phone and see the communication I had with my cable company, they may have some questions.
Why did we spend so much time on texting codes and having digital chats when the issue could have been resolved with a short, person-to-person exchange? Why were they so reluctant to hire an extra person to man the phones or make a brief home visit?
I’m sure there are other people besides me who have other things to take care of – a job, child, dog, or pot of soup that needs their attention – than to wait on a phone call to a cable company that takes 45 minutes to steer you to a digital chat.
Once there, they narrow your problems down to six choices, none of which seem to be yours.
I’m not the busiest person in the world, but I do wonder what the president of ExxonMobil does when his cable box is on the blink and he needs a technician to come and take a look. The price of gas must go up exponentially because ExxonMobil’s head honcho has been missing meetings while waiting on the phone for a customer service representative.
Once connected with a cable customer service rep, their goal is to get you to troubleshoot yourself. They shamelessly ask you to step into the big shoes of a network cable repair person and befriend your modem. Certification as a cable guy or gal takes up to a year of education and training. I highly doubt that training is performed over the phone.
If you can finally convince the cable company through the prompts that your problem isn’t on their list, you may be connected to someone who can offer a home visit. Hallelujah. But right after you hang up and save the date on your Google calendar, the cable company calls your cell phone to check just one more time if they can help you fix your cable issue over the phone.
Interesting how hard it is for you to reach them, but how easy it is for them to reach you. I’m thinking of providing my own list of prompts:
Press 1 if you’re trying to weasel out of coming to fix our cable box.
Press 2 if you’re wondering why you would spend an hour on the phone with us if you thought you could fix the issue yourself.
Do-it-yourself has come to the medical field as well. The last time I went for a blood test, the receptionist pointed me to a shaky, waist-high kiosk which would scan my driver’s license and insurance card while she was most likely on hold with her cable company.
I don’t mind the electronic ordering kiosks at Wawa when ordering a Shorti, hold the mayo, but we patients might have the occasional question about insurance coverage at places like LabCorp. The kiosk doesn’t ask you if you’ve eaten either, which is important for some blood tests. I’m wondering if the day will come when we’ll be asked to draw our own blood or stitch our own wounds.
And then there’s the big shipping companies.
“I tried to get in touch with UPS about an Amazon order, and they don’t even have a phone number,” said Edward Klinger of Galloway. “You can only communicate with them through text. I feel badly for the super elderly for whom texting is difficult or folks without a device. I thought you had to have a phone number if you own a business.”
If you dig into the websites of companies that are trying to avoid their own customers, you might be able to find a phone number, but it takes some sleuthing.
“I’m only interested in patronizing businesses who answer the phone,” added Klinger.
Big box companies have jumped on the distance-yourself-from-the customer bandwagon, too. It’s impossible to speak to anyone at Best Buy in Mays Landing.
After I left a box of screen protectors at the Geek Squad desk, I tried to call the store and ask them to put the item aside for me. No dice. To protect my already-purchased item, I had to plead with a customer service representative located 7,904 miles away to please call Best Buy in Mays Landing, NJ, in the United States to ask them not to restock my purchase. I wondered what they thought went on in a place called “Mays Landing.”
The last shocking digital exchange is the text asking me to complete a survey ranking Best Buy’s customer service from 1 to 10. “Nightmare” must be Option 11.
Apple is one exception worth noting. Oh how I love this company and how they take care of me and my devices.
The ad copywriter in me appreciates the carefully crafted phrases on their website like, “Get the help you need” and “tell us what’s happening.” They list every region on the planet with a “See all worldwide support telephone numbers” link.
If your region isn’t listed, they ask you to let them know, but unless you live in Antarctica, it’s there. Here in South Jersey, it’s: 1-800-275-2273. There you go: a real telephone number.
Last month the Justice Department filed a lawsuit against Apple accusing the company of being a monopoly that unfairly keeps competitors at bay, but I don’t care. After all, we live right off of Ventnor Avenue. Monopoly was invented here in Atlantic City.
Apple sets a great example of realizing where their bread is buttered and making each customer’s problem their problem to solve. But for the most part there’s no going back unless these tech geniuses realize that there’s still a need for human problem-solvers.
To that end, lately I’ve been skipping the phone calls and customer service reps telling me at 9 in the morning to have a nice evening a half a world away, as wonderful as those places would be for a visit.
Now I just thank goodness that gas is a reasonable $3.27 a gallon in New Jersey. I have taken to getting in my car and driving the 14.68 miles from Ventnor City to Consumer Square in Mays Landing.
Once at Best Buy, I let the double doors open automatically as I take full advantage of the opportunity to speak to someone on the nice, knowledgeable, blue-shirted staff who, unlike their bot counterparts, seem more than willing to help.
Lisa is an advertising copywriter, journalist, and columnist. She is a year ‘round Ventnor resident and her claim to fame is that she was a Lou’s waitress for four summers.
