I am calling you as an absolute last resort. I have tried everything on your website because I know the first advice you will give me is to visit your website and quit bothering you.
I have just come from your website and while trying to pay with two forms of payment a big red banner told me to call you for “help” to which you replied, “I’m very sorry I could not help you.”
My silence probably seemed like I was patiently waiting, but I was weeping.
Then you asked me to complete a quick survey. That made me laugh.
We hung up (or got disconnected (by you) when I swallowed my tears and threw on my rage cape and pulled out my sword).
I returned to your website certain that this customer had not been served and your company really does not deserve my dollars but I really wanted that sweater. All by myself I figured out that you were wrong, and your website really WILL accept two forms of payment iff (that extra f means if and only if) one of them is your very own store’s gift card which I then purchased (with my *prepaid gift card from the other company who tried to scam me) as an e-gift, received in my email box in minutes and used with my credit card on your site–essentially using two forms of payment in a simple cycle that your company really should comprehend since they set up your website and none of this is rocket surgery.
So I called you back, got another agent, asked for help again to see if she knew the answer, got the same brick walled apology, a suggestion that I should just risk my life in the pandemic and go to the actual store, and then. THEN. I took a deeeeep breath and said, “I have some help for you. I found the solution and want to explain it to you, so you can help the next customer with my same question. It’ll mean you won’t have to apologize all day long for inadequate training, your customers will remain customers, your surveys will get 5 stars, and your company won’t go bankrupt. All you have to do is change your script like this–“
She interrupted, “Script?”
I laughed. “The words you are reading back to me that start with ‘I’m sorry, but–.’ That’s called a script.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, but I can’t make changes to the script.”
Not weeping, I threw up my hands and said, “OK. I hope the rest of the customers who call today are happy. Can I go to the survey now?”
And, without a goodbye, she cut me off. No survey. No script edits. No paying it forward help to the next brave soul who calls for help. So I am writing to you now to give you this crumpled sad face emoji, a fist bump for luck, and solemn advice: your career in customer service is a dead end. It’s a really tough job and you just don’t have the skills.
Laura the Grump
PS. Though your script didn’t prompt you to suggest this, I should mention that I do realize I could have cut my order in half and paid with two cards on two orders but I’m a strategic shopper. I wanted the free shipping and the K-h-‘s CA-H so my very strategic order had to stay in one transaction (even though you guys will ship it in seven boxes in seven days).
PSS. Though you didn’t ask and don’t care, I should also mention where the *prepaid gift card came from. On Black Friday 2020 I purchased new cell phones for the family based on an unbelievable too-good-to-be-true deal. Of course for the first few hours I attempted to order and purchase the phones on the website, but hit the brick wall and finally gave up and called Customer Service who explained the website has limitations and only they have the true power to activate the deal of the century. All I had to do was switch carriers, pay a boat load of money upfront, and for the same monthly payment as my previous carrier where the family managed to share a teeny-tiny-little-bit of data, we’d get unlimited everything AND $700 phones for $99 AND a crown AND they’d walk my dog. But that’s not all. For each phone we’d also get a $100 prepaid Mastercard. By the time we got to that shiny carrot, I’d been online and on the phone with four different agents for hours. They sort of knew that had me hooked because I was getting tired of the process when the fourth agent whipped out the but-that’s-not-all ace of these prepaid cards. Well, to make a long story longer, we didn’t activate the phones until Christmas, which was when I asked about the $100/phone promise and why I hadn’t received them yet and was told I had to “claim” them. I thought that was odd, but I did it. They said it would take 6-8 weeks to receive them. I’m gullible. I waited. I should have known they had no intention of giving me the promised dollars when they made me “claim” them. Yesterday I signed in to check on them and the page said “denied” on each. I called and got another agent who as usual made up some reason why the previous agent did it all wrong and only he really knew how to do it and would fix it personally for me by overriding the denials and within 72 hours I would get an email to activate the imaginary snake-oil cards. I just went along with it, now not believing it would ever happen. At the end of the call “Nick” asked if there was anything else he could do and when I said no he said, “OK. But I have one more question for you: will you still give us an excellent rating?” I answered, “Sure, if I ever get these cards.” He cracked up. It was a little funny, but I figured he was just laughing at me.
So when the activation text messages appeared on my shiny TV-sized phone this morning, I knew I had to spend them right away or they’d go poof back into the infinite ether. Also, immediately DH spouted ideas about spending the dollars on a new vacuum cleaner and that does not sound like a prize to me for all my effort.
If I strategically spend them in spurts, each time I can accrue more K-H_’s C-SH to get more stuff, all with free shipping. This elaborate plan could have been avoided if I just got these cards three months ago when they were first dangled, and applied them directly to the cell phone bill. But then I’d have missed out on such delightful customer service.