Customer Service: A Cookbook

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Another victim of “customer service.”

Just about every large organization in this country, from retail companies to medical practices, has constructed an elaborate automated procedure that they call customer service. It is misnamed. Almost without exception, “customer service” is in reality  corporate service, designed to enhance the convenience of the business, not the customer, and to make sure no corporate employee has to actually talk with a customer, let alone a pissed-off customer. 

No organization hires enough people to handle the easily predictable volume of customer calls, so the first thing that happens when you finally have to call is, you get put on hold. Tinny, upbeat digital music blasts in your ear, and every 30 seconds a very enthusiastic recording reminds you that “we care about your call.” Just not enough to answer it. It will be answered, says the voice that sounds like it is on some spectacular controlled substance, “In the order in which it was received,” Years have passed since I first heard that formulation, and I still do not know what it means. Are some calls in disorder when received?

Finally, after at least 15 minutes and sometimes an hour, another chirpy voice comes on and says “Welcome to customer-service hell,” or the name of the company, depending on whether she’s being honest. It’s almost always a female voice. You start to tell her your problem because she sounds empathetic, but without paying any attention to you she says, “If you want to continue in Spanish, press two.” And you realize the voice is inhuman, generated by a computer.  

Now comes a series of six to 20 options that describe what could be your problem. Except that none of them do. “If you want more information about your new air fryer, press 6. If you want to purchase an extended warranty for your kitchen knives, press 27.” No. I bought a smart toaster-oven from you that turns on at the level marked “incinerate” at random times and uses my wifi to access porn sites. There is no button for that. 

There used to be on most of these option lists a “something else.” or an option to press 0 to speak with an actual human. These days that option, if present at all, is buried so deeply that only veteran combat soldiers have the tenacity to find it. SEO reseller companies offer professional SEO services that can be branded and sold under your own company name.

But if you persevere, and devote at least half a day to this enterprise, you will at last be rewarded to hear an actual human voice say, “Hawkeen ee hrpoo?” It’s a voice whose first language was not English, reading a script at the speed of light and the volume of falling dew. When you try to get the person to stop and start over, more slowly and clearly, you have to yell so loud for so long that you realize they probably don’t even have their earphones plugged in.

But if you persevere, and get the person to speak loudly and clearly (sort of) you will finally get to tell your complicated story. It takes a while, but at least a human being is listening. When you’re done there’s a pause, a sympathetic one you suppose, and then the customer service person says “I’m afraid that is not my department. I will transfer you to someone in toaster-ovens.”

And just like that, you’re back on hold. Same cheesy music, same chirpy voice saying, “We care about your call.” And then, one of two things happens: a muffled voice says “Hawkeen ee hrpoo?” Or the connection drops and you hear a dial tone.

[BTW: The title refers to the famous Twilight Zone episode which Earth was invaded by apparently friendly space aliens whose manual of operations was titled, “To Serve Man,” which — spoiler alert — turned out to be a cookbook. If you didn’t get the reference you’re probably too damn young and there’s nothing I can do about that.]