May I Help You?

When I was but a wee lass, I remember seeing a TV commercial for Texaco. These days, it is often cited when folks talk about how customer service has gone down the tubes. The commercial featured a fleet of snappy male service station attendants, armed with rags and a smile, who cheerfully offered to fill your tank, check your oil and clean your windows.

Ah, them was the days.

I was reminded of this ad last week, when, on my lunch hour, I stopped in at a local department store to use a gift card I had received. While I was shopping, my cell phone rang, and I began a conversation with Mr. Ginley. I was wandering around the store, a pair of sweat pants over my arm, reading the "clearance" tags to see if I could find a bargain. My better half was making suggestive suggestions on how to spend my gift card, while I perused a rack of men's polo shirts and dismissed them as not-ready-for-the-clearance-rack (at $30 a pop).

Several minutes later, I ended the conversation and continued to stroll around, looking for a way to use the remainder of the gift card. The store was populated with dozens of salespeople but only a handful of shoppers, and I was wondering how one could stay in business with this kind of model, when someone shouted at me from halfway across the store, "Can I help you find something?"

At first, I wasn't sure she was talking to me. But I turned around, and there she was, a spec on the horizon, staring right at me. I shouted back, "I'm shopping. Is that okay?" She replied in the affirmative, but I was instantly done, and paid for my purchase at the next service desk I saw.

Leaving the store, I thought maybe it was just me. I'm not a snappy dresser, and while I don't look like a bag lady, I don't look like I have a lot of discretionary income, either. Usually it's the perfume counter ladies who snub me. The well-dressed woman ahead of me will be fawned over like she's just discovered a new shade of lip gloss, while I pass unassailed. On the one hand, I don't want to be accosted, on the other, no one likes being treated like chopped liver. Or, in my case this week, like a common thief.

On the plus side, I could see the person who was disparaging me at the department store. The other customer service experience I had this week was on the phone with my cable company.

I called twice last month to resolve a problem with billing. Silly me, they gave me a credit, told me what I should pay, and I thought that was that. This month, the credit appeared, but so did a new charge for the amount I had disputed last month.

Their call center is obviously "off shore."  "Mary" was difficult to understand and ultimately told me to call back in 20 minutes, that the folks who could help me wouldn't be in until 8:00 am. When I pointed out it was one minute till, she blustered something that I translated as "they need time to chat about last night's episode of whatever and grab a cup of java before they get to the phones." On my second attempt, "George" was more helpful, but he spoiled it by promising to save me money on the same services I currently have. It was going to take him five minutes to sort it all out, though, and he'd have to call me back. Half an hour later, he returned my call and said he was signing me up for phone and internet service. Whoa, hold on there, said I, I don't want any of that, I told you I only wanted the stuff I have now. He began to whine that I wouldn't be able to save any money, and I assured him I was fine with that. (I'm afraid to see what shows up in next month's bill.)

Everyone has stories like these. Customer service is a lost art. The trouble is, in these days of mega conglomerates, it's hard to say you're going somewhere else. Whenever possible, I shop at Mom and Pop places, but they are getting harder to find. So, I guess I'll just have to thicken my skin and get on with it.

Have a nice day!