Never thought I'd say this out loud, but the way things have been going for the past few months - nay, the year of 2009 - has left me with little time or energy to string enough words together to write coherent blog posts. Me, at a loss for words?! Giddoutahere, I hear you mutter as you suppress giggles. Some consider it a mixed blessing when I do run out of things to say and pithy ways to say 'em.
If I'm going to run for office in four years, I better start making plans. I have a list of campaign promises prepared, and I will release them to my ardent followers as time passes.
So, I solemnly swear that, if elected:
You might think that, with all the politics flying through the air, I'd be grumpier in this past few months. I'm not. I think pre-election campaign television rates just two steps above soap opera, and two steps below soap opera in believability.
On November 4th, someone will be President. Someone will be Vice President. Someone else won't be.
Many someone elses, for that matter. And on November 5th, the towering gods we refer to as Mass Media will have to find something else to do (well, once all the post-game analysis is out of the way).
Bless their hearts. Maybe I should run in four years.
I just got told my posts are too long. This pleases me greatly when Someone Else speaks up about what they do and don't like. I am No Longer Alone!
My posts will no longer be too long. Only long enough to convey the message.
[note to self: invent Sarcasm HTML tag]
Today I discovered a problem. This problem could cost its company tens of thousands of dollars in lost profits, and far more than that in lost revenue. Like a good Girl Scout, I did my very best to bring it to the attention of the people who stand to lose this revenue.
Perhaps, since it is a Monday and everyone's mood is a tad Monday'ish, the response I encountered was a rousing 'whatever.'
Perhaps the humidity is too high, clogging the input channels so that the implication of this alert did not quite get to the concerned synapses, which would have automatically screeched "SH*T! That's my paycheck!!"
Perhaps I did not crawl up the ankles of the towering corporate megalith far enough to reach the person tasked with caring enough that this revenue is being tossed down the tubes.
Perhaps this company doesn't care that they have lost not only my clients' business but potentially the business of a few thousand other individuals who might see their ill-placed information and wonder what sort of nonsense they are avoiding by NOT doing business with this particular source.
After six long-distance phone calls, five automatic electronic transfers, four unintelligible answering system messages, three misbehaving voicemail boxes and a pair of disconnects, I reached the Partridge in the Pear Tree ... the Not My Department Department.
This highly effective, well-placed Department was actually staffed by a human. This human did not want my name. It did not want my phone number. It did not want to know the nature of the problem nor the implications for my business (or its). It did not offer to send me elsewhere. It did not offer to have someone research the problem and call me back, even if it were to call me back to tell me I should mind my own business. It did, however, thank me for calling - a phrase which it used immediately on answering, with nary a clue of what I was calling about.
So I stopped with the calls and the concern and the worrying, called my client back and gave her two other sources for the product in question (both of which were quite helpful in solving her need - rapidly and accurately).
I am grateful for finally having reached the Not My Department Department. If it weren't for that sole individual's presence, I would still be doing my level best to find a person who actually cares that a problem exists.
Soon word will get out, and every company will want their own Not My Department Department. I look forward to the day - I'll save ever so much money on phone calls and voicemail messages.
Bless their hearts.
Gentle readers who have been following my rambling for a while know that I am a person of infinite patience and even temper when it comes to real life events. It is an unspoken rule that here is where my grumpiness emerges, not elsewhere.
(ok, you can stop with the snickering now)
I must confess that this rule of mine was nearly broken - nay, shattered beyond repair today in the face of yet another twist in the continuing saga of downright lame customer service. I'll spare you the gory details, but in short:
I've been trying to deal with this particular company for five months now, politely and patiently, with the respect that any business deserves. Honest I have. I have yet to receive completely satisfactory service but things have been looking up.
Today, the field service guy - yet another in a string of different field service guys - showed up, this time only a few hours late (as opposed to not at all). He did what he had arrived to do, then returned to the front porch again, extending clipboard with a form for signature.
Down and slightly to the right of the place for me to sign, teensy letters: Are you happy with the service? The YES box was already checked (in the same ink as the rest of service guy's writing).
Perhaps someone thinks that if they check this off before I get my mitts on it, I shall be satisfied because the form says so.
Bless their hearts.
I'm one year grumpier than last time we chatted.
When I woke up today and checked my email, I had 67 one-line cheerful bouncy Happy Birthday messages from forums where I don't even recall signing up (and four I'm pretty sure I don't belong to). Oh, and eighteen more heart-felt pleas for me to assist moving millions of dollars out of Nigeria from Dear Best Friends.
All I can say is thank goodness for email. If I'd received all this garbage in print form, I would have to contract for a new Dumpster and instead of grumping about spam, I would be bemoaning the loss of three good-sized trees.
Google is my new best-friend-forever. How do I know this? Easy - over a dozen people I've never met have emailed me to tell me so in the past day.
Google replaced a colored bar with numbers. The implications are huge. The enthusiasm over the transparency, on the other hand, is what's curious. Google, so far ahead of the pack in so many things, is now catching up to much smaller keyword traffic analyzers who have offered numbers for decades.
Did those smaller keyword traffic analyzers become my BFF by doing so? Did everyone and his pet gerbil email me, frothing with joy when they heard? No. Because TRANSPARENCY should be a rule, not an earth-shattering exception.
Bless their hearts.
A friend of mine is under 'stalker' attack. Every time she turns around, there's this guy. He's chased her from social bookmark site to a social network to another website to another social network to another social bookmark site, and on and on. Friendly fan? Sicko weirdo? She can't tell, but it's freaking her out.
Advice welcome. She is my friend and I do not want her scared of the surf. It makes me very grumpy.
I signed up for something last week, unchecked the default-checked Check This If You Wish To Hear About Special Offers From Our Partners checkbox, read the Terms 'n Conditions and Privacy Statements before pushing any final buttons.
Within two days my email inbox began filling up with dozens and dozens of Special Offers From Our Partners Only Available Through This Email Right Now! stuff.
I nav'd back to the original source of all this noise and did some poking around under the hood (View Source on a webpage sometime for a real treat). Sure enough, the wires to the checkbox to opt in were dangling in midair, connected to nothing of substance in the form code.
For a place so eager to send me sh*t, they are amazingly reluctant to get any back. Their own Contact Us email bounces back in abject failure.
Yet another thing for me to gripe about, like I really needed more. Yay.
So I had a bit of a problem with a piece of electronic gear the other day. Checked the obvious and less obvious: Yes, power. Yes, power at the outlet. No, have not operated while showering.
Checked the troubleshooting guide in the back of the manual. Followed the usual suspects through to elimination.
Ran the recommended diagnostics. Twice. Joyless results.
Checked the manufacturer's website for lurking upgrades and failures. Nada.
Bit the bullet and called the non-toll-free number. Got put on hold. Forever (ok, 10 minutes).
Friendly customer service dude asks for all the pertinent info - make, model and serial number of the device, my name, location, date of birth, mother's maiden name, father's middle name, name of my favorite dog, lead character in my favorite soap opera, area code of the phone number of my matron of honor from my first wedding, the last five digits of my firstborn son's drivers license. This will help him find my problem. Uh huh.
Please Hold While I Look Something Up. Sorry For the Inconvenience.
I ran the numbers in my head. For slightly less than half the cost of what I will spend on phone calls and on-hold time with this company, I can drive the nine miles to Wal-Mart and buy a new version of this electronic gear. It will work right, out of the box, or I can drive back to Wal-Mart and exchange it under warranty. Even factoring in gas prices, I'll be better off.
What is wrong with this picture? Has customer service and product integrity really fallen so far?
I propose a new voice-mail menu system to ease their pain and mine:
Hello, and welcome to Pointless Electronics LLC, a division of Way-Too-Big Industries.
Your call is very important to us. Please listen carefully as our menu options have changed since your previous Pointless call.
Press 1 to continue your call in English.
Para continuar en español, por favor, pulse dos.
Press 3, followed by the pound sign, if your Pointless device is not working.
Press 3, followed by your VISA or Mastercard number, followed by the pound sign, if you lost your Pointless device manual and cannot run diagnostics.
Press 4, followed by the star sign, followed by the pound sign, if you think you know what the problem is with your Pointless device.
Press 5, followed by the pound sign, if you have read the manual but have not yet consulted the Pointless website for further assistance.
Press 6, followed by the pound sign, if you have not yet tried slamming your Pointless device against a wall.
Press 7, followed by the pound sign, if you think you are smarter than our entire Customer Service department and want validation of this misperception.
Press 8 to speak with an operator or to be placed on hold for one hour until the next Pointless Customer Service representative is available.
Press 9 to hear these menu options again.
I made a mistake today. I IM'd a "Happy Fourth of July!" to a coworker in New Jersey. I might as well have thrown a stink bomb into the foyer of LA's finest dining establishment.
"What the HELL are we celebrating!?" he exploded in response. "Our so-called leadership is comatose, our military is enslaved to a conflict that can't POSSIBLY be resolved, our economy is sinking like a stone, gas prices are orbiting the moon, job stability is at the mercy of --"
I nodded politely as he continued his IM rage. Far be it for me to interrupt him long enough to point out that we are celebrating the fact that he is free to express those very thoughts.
Bless his heart.
We're still a new nation. We may not have gotten things right yet.
Relative to some of the older world powers, we're teenagers - and teenagers make mistakes. We have the know-it-all ego of a fifteen-year-old adolescent, the bluster of a schoolyard bully. The maturity of a tween fawning over the Jonas Brothers (or the Everly Brothers, if you're my age). We do stupid stuff, and sometimes we should be grounded for our own good.
Stupid stuff, rants 'n all aside, it's our birthday, dammit, and I want cake.
An acquaintance of mine IM'd me to warn me that she was pretty sure she'd broken the Internet.
I asked her why she would think such a thing.
Her web browser told her so.
I thanked her for letting me know... *** insert barely-suppressed giggle ***
Then she asked if I could fix it.
'The Internet?'
"yes! I broke it!!"
uhh
'I don't think you can actually break th-'
"one sec.. I'll quit the Internet so you can work on it."
uhhhh
'ok... just let me know...'
"ok. I quit it"
'all right. shut off your browser and count to five.'
"ok"
***/me drums fingers on desk in a repeated five stroke roll ***
"ok it's off. Now what?"
'turn it back on'
"ok"
***music on hold (see previous posts of mine)***
"ok, it's coming back on...
HEY IT WORKS! YOU FIXED IT!! THANKS!!!!!"
*** /me disconnecting to avoid having to figure out what to say in response ***
Apparently, some things are better left in the hands of experts and the Powers That Be who bestow the unsuspecting and non-technical with web browsers and operating systems that Are Not Mac.
Bless her heart.
Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart is like a huge stuffed lion on the savannah. It threatens by its very presence - eek, a big lion! It consumes no gazelles. Yet invariably some of the erstwhile gazelle prey panic and fall into a dead faint at the sight of it. Then the bodies decay and the bones keep piling up. Soon crowds of gazelles are pointing fearfully in the direction of the big stuffed lion - Shock 'n Awe! - Look How Much That Lion Eats!
I left LA in the mid-1980s, and never looked back. I moved to a remote realm where the deer and the cantaloupe play, where the life pace is slightly above snail. The biggest stressor is remembering who moves first at a four-way stop-sign intersection. Life is slower here. Yet, sadly, some of the loudest complaints I heard when I moved here were over the slow pace. People griping that it takes so long to get things done. People sitting and wondering why nothing is happening. The natives get restless, but not restless enough to actually make things happen.
Then, one day, Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart moved in. All of a sudden it was PANIC TIME! This behemoth is gonna eat all our local-owned businesses!!
Let's not mention that most of these same businesses are the ones owned by the complainers whining that Nothing Ever Gets Done.
The sky, which had been falling before solely because nobody would take responsibility for holding it up, now threatened to plummet to earth at a heart-stopping pace, and even the swiftest of snail shall be crushed!
Ohh Noooo, Mr Bill!!!
We cannot mention that the local businesses which were going to go out of business while sniveling in the shadow of the monster are (gasp...) the same ones that were teetering on the brink of the Grand Canyon of Nonexistence well before the monster moved into the neighborhood.
We dare not mention that, in more densely populated realms, Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart monsters move in every day and do not consume all the small businesses before lunchtime.
We're all gonna diiieeee!!!
We don't even mention that those small businesses who kept their doors wide open, their calm faces on, and their customer service to their prior high standards are doing just fine, thanks, and have not been eaten alive. In FACT, some of those small businesses have actually expanded, moved to larger quarters, even built their own buildings.
Every inhabitant on every savannah has its natural enemies and its position on the food chain, even when the biggest survival threats are entropy and self-consuming panic.
Disclaimer: I do not work for Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart, have not been paid anything to mention Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart in this blog, and haven't even shopped at Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart in the past few months. My business did not suffer a single cent of lost revenue to the presence of Big-Everything-Under-One-Roof-Mart. Also, I take no pleasure from the misery of others, real or imagined, external or internal. I do, however, know what to do at a four-way stop-sign intersection - and that alone puts me several steps closer to the front of the herd.
Twelve difficult marketing lessons for the wanna-be internet entrepreneur:
1 - It's ok to reach out and talk to someone without trying to get them to buy your stuff.
2 - Everyone wants you to buy their stuff.
2a - You want everyone to buy your stuff.
2b - Not everyone wants to buy your stuff.
|!2b - Someone will want to buy your stuff, maybe someday. Don't beat the idea out of them.
3 - Shoving your stuff down their throat is a sure-fire guarantee that they never will Buy. Your. Stuff.
4 - Being mean will not get anyone to buy your stuff.
5 - Exaggerating will NEVER get anyone to buy your stuff.
6 - If you brag that you have made millions selling your stuff, some people may not believe you.
6a - dumb ones might, but may not be smart enough to figure out how to sell your stuff once they've signed up in your downline;
68b - you will spend more time weeding than training, and wondering why your stuff isn't selling.
7 - MLM is pyramidal, no matter who is swearing it isn't. So-called 'network marketing' is usually MLM.
7a - Barnum was right: there is a sucker born every minute. Luckily some smarten up before they get old enough to get PayPal and credit cards
7b - House is not entirely right: Not everyone lies. But enough do that you should be wary.
8 - 3,207,954 other people are selling the same stuff as you. Maybe better.
8a - be nicer than them, not louder.
8b - be honest. Always. Even if it hurts.
8c - be honest with yourself. Always. Yes, it's gonna hurt.
9 - If your website blows chunks or animates like a Saturday morning cartoon, even the BEST stuff may not sell.
9a - not everybody enjoys having their cursor followed by a swarm of butterflies. Some find it damn annoying. I'm one of them.
9b - very few people will actually tell you if your website blows chunks. Watch your bounce rate via Google Analytics. Just like a real live ground-based business, people will vote with their feet (or fingers in this case).
10 - Know the target customer of your stuff. Ask him what he wants. Give it to him.
10a - everyone is an expert on what stuff they want;
10b - respect a customer's right to be wrong about stuff, without insulting him.
11 - Customer service is worth more than selling your stuff.
11a - one of the most powerful phrases in the English language is: "I don't know. Let me find out and get an answer for you."
11b - if you use the phrase, follow up.
12 - Listen to Seth Godin. HE KNOWS STUFF.
I could say more - a lot more - on this topic but I'm sure I'm already ticking off a few Real Marketing Experts Who Have Made Millions And Quit Their Day Jobs And Have The PayStubs To Prove It. Bless your hearts.
Read this aloud in a tone and vocal timbre that reflects the seriousness of the statement. Time yourself. You have 10 seconds.
[Start Exercise]
Do not breathe.
Start Now.
Some restrictons apply Offer may not be valid in your state Please check local listings for date and time Offer may not be combined with any other offer from this company This ad does not reflect typical weight loss results with this or any other weight loss product Your mileage may vary May cause drowsiness Do not take this product if you are taking MAOI inhibitors Subject to local state and federal taxes Conditions of offer include purchase of warranty package See your local dealer for details If you have already entered this sweepstakes or any other form of this sweepstakes or any other sweepstakes offered by this publisher in the past 18 months you may not quality for a winning position in this sweepstakes Check with your doctor or pharmacist before taking this or any other medication Do not operate this or any vehicle under the influence of alcohol Please drink responsibly
Stop.
Breathe if you want.
[End Exercise]
If you were able to read the italicized paragraph aloud in ten seconds of less, without pausing for breath, congratulations. You have a promising career ahead of you as the broadcaster of those annoying caveats at the end of too many television and radio commercials. You can thank me later.
A Factual Sidenote about Fast Talkin'
Big Jack Armstrong was the holder of the Guinness World Records as the Fastest Talking Human Alive, during his career from 1960 until 2006.
What the heck is he saying!? - It must be true - after all, it's on Wikipedia.
This grump brought to you by special request of Chef Keem whose inspiration and recipes are phenomenal. Read every bit of his Squidoo stuff, try his recipes, get some of that great Agasweet agave nectar to die for. He's a great person, despite his cheery disposition and marvelous sense of humor - nothing to gripe about there, and you know how THAT makes me feel.
**mutters and posts**
Please hold until the next available operator can take your call.
[insert 15 seconds of Muzak at eardrum-puncturing volume]
Your call is very important to us. Please hold for the next available operator.
[insert 10 seconds of Muzak at eardrum-piercing levels]
Your call is very important to us. Please hold for the next available operator.
[insert 10 seconds of Muzak at eardrum-piercing levels]
Your call is very important to us. Please hold for the next available operator.
[insert 10 seconds of Muzak at eardrum-piercing levels]
Your call is very important to us. Please hold for the next available operator.
[insert 10 seconds of Muzak at eardrum-piercing levels]
Your call is very important to us. Please hold for the next available operator.
[insert 10 seconds of Muzak at eardrum-piercing levels]
Those who put Muzak on hold and announcements on their phone service should be forced to listen to their handiwork for 45 minutes straight, the approximate length of the time I spent on hold with a company this afternoon, waiting for the next available operator.
... and fishes for the multitudes.
What on earth possesses a company to use a 18" square cardboard box and two yards of bubble-wrap to ship a 12-pack of AA-cell batteries.
They must think cardboard grows on TREES or something!
If you want to tag a business website as amateur, look for the section about how hard they worked on it.
Somewhere on the site, they wax eloquent about the thousands of hours they've put into spittin' and polishin', shinin' and prettifyin' just so that 'your visit and experience at La De Freakin' Dah Company LLC will be the best possible ever.' They'll probably go on and on and on about the massive investment of cost and time and dedication and resources and the latest technology that they have lovingly poured into this venture.
Of course they worked hard on it. If they didn't work hard on it, it wouldn't be much, would it?
Certain causal celebrities, accidental inhabitants of the footlights, heroes of the moment, rescuer of THREE cats from one tree during a dangerous spring butterfly swarm - commendable, all! But some of the media fail to realize how far 15 minutes should be stretched.
"Chet, we're here with octogenarian Melvis Goldfarb, whose purse was snatched not once but TWICE in the same year on the treacherous streets of New York. How's it going, Mrs Goldfarb? May I call you Melvis?"
"That's not my name...ah.. it's Goldstein... Mavis Goldstein..."
"Such a brave soul you are! Five years ago, in this very city, your handbag was torn from your grasp, not once but TWICE in the same year. I recall it like it was yesterday - it was all over the news! And yet here you are standing with us, as brave and staunch a soul as before the brutality. Tell us what has given you the courage to shoulder on, Mrs Goldfarb?"
"Well, I... ah... that's not.."
"And what a gut-wrenching trauma to have suffered, Mrs Goldfarb! Anyone would be confused and a bit shaken after such an earth-shattering occasion. Not once but TWICE in a single year, this poor soul was stripped of every possession in her grasp by the malevolent streets of Gotham. Any advice for our viewers, Mrs Goldfarb?"
".. it's GoldSTEIN. STEIN... like beer stein. You know? Stein?"
"Poor woman. Anyone standing her can see that she's practically shaking at the recollection. Again, Chet, we're standing here with the brave Mavis Goldfarb, victim of crime not once but TWICE in a single year, boldly facing the streets yet again on this fine pastoral afternoon in the Big Apple."
"That's GoldSTEIN. Mavis GoldSTEIN."
"Back to you, Chet!"
"Oy."
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