Customer Service

Part of my job involves customer service. And I am a "floater" which means I have no office. Which means I have no telephone number. Which means, that whenever somebody needs to call me, they have to call the "main number" and be routed through the call center, who can transfer them to me. I know that this is very frustrating for people and I feel vaguely bad telling them this. Unless I don't like them, or am trying to avoid them, in which case its very handy. "Nope, sorry sir, no phone number." With people I do like, I have occasionally given out my email address in hopes of making their life easier. Nobody likes to get "the run around."

Today I got the biggest run around in the world. You see, Aubrey had given me an FM transmitter for Christmas, so I can listen to my MP3 player through the car radio rather than my headphones. I've been having some issues with it lately, so I called the customer "service" number. After a few minutes on hold I discussed my situation with Antoine. He couldn't fix my problem, but he said he was sending me an email that would tell me what to do. I thought this was a bit odd, but I said OK and was done with it. Well, today I got the email. The email had a link to the customer "service" website, and supplied me with a name and password. So off I went to the website. I logged in, and was able to read the instructions for how to get my toy fixed. I am supposed to fill out a form with 10 items, including name address, etc., as well as a copy of my receipt, and fax it to a long distance fax number. Then I am supposed to wait 2 days for them to read my fax, and shortly thereafter they will send me an email with further instructions!!!!! What?!? Am I on a secret mission where it is too dangerous to tell me the entire process at once?

This is the most ridiculous bird brained thing I have ever seen. I'm not sure I could come up with something so inconvenient if I tried. Anyway, my current saving grace is that my doodad seems to be working OK today, so I might not have to fax in my coordinates, and wait for them to email me the secret handshake.


Dad said…
Servicing the dog!

It was 2 degrees this morning when I walked the dog! brrrr.

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