Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: customer service

Customer Disservice at its best (worst)

Last week, the garbage collector did not come. At all.

I’m going to let that sit there and marinate while I go back a few months. My garbage is usually collected early in the morning. A few months ago, I started to get weekly calls on the day it was supposed to be collected telling me that my route was ‘running late that day’ and would definitely positively be there by the end of the day–which was something like five-thirty. For several months.

Look. If they just came out and said that my new route was at the end of the day, I’d be fine with it. I don’t actually care when they come as long as they come.

They leave a message every collection day telling me that my route is ‘late for that day’. I had gotten to the point where I erased it as soon as I heard the automated voice. I just assumed it was the same message. Last week, they did not come. It was Thanksgiving week, so I thought maybe they had Monday off. I have helpful neighbors who roll my can back up for me, but I put it back out (this was thenext day) in the vain hope that it would get emptied.

It did not. At the end of the day, it was still full. The next morning, I called Republic, the monopoly for the area. In effect, anyway. It’s one of the only games in town. I told the woman on the phone that my house had been missed. After asking for my address, she immediately said that because of the holiday, my guy could not swing by and pick it up.

I mean. I get that it’s a holiday, but what happened was not my fault. I did not want to make extra work for anyone, but they didn’t do their job. Of picking up my trash. Which was, might I emphasize again, their actual job. That I pay them for. That they are supposed to do every week.

So the woman on the phone was as unhelpful as possible. She made sure to tell me several times that it was a holiday week and there was no possible wayt to get my trash picked up that week. That was it. She had nothing else to say. I asked what I was supposed to do the next week because I only had one small-ish can and, if you can recall, MY GARBAGE HAD NOT BEEN COLLECTED LAST WEEK. Which meant, and I’m sure you can put two and two together, that there was still garbage in the can.

“Put it in bags on the side.” She could not have been any less interested in my problem. Because I wanted to make sure that all the garbage would be taken, I clarified, “They will take the bags?” Because normally, they would not. She said she would put a note in the record for them to take the bags.


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Customer service is trash these days

On my way to the grocery store, I was listening to NPR/MPR per usual. They were playing a podcast called On Point hosted by Meghna Chakrabarti, and the episode was entitled: Is customer service bad on purpose? It’s about whether or not customer service was worse these days than, say, a decade ago. My immediate impulsive answer was, “Fuck yeah!”

I had noticed in the last several years, the ability to get a human being on the phone for customer service was nigh near impossible. There are tips and tricks to get around this, but companies were finding ways to get around those tips and tricks. It’s frustrating as hell, especially when it’s a company or service that does not have a competitor. For example, the government. I had to talk to someone in the local government about my healthcare plan, and I had to wait on the phone for three hours to actually talk to a human being. That is unconscionable. And this was before the pandemic! I’m sure it’s only gotten worse since then, but as Meghna said with such passion, I go to great lengths so I don’t have to talk to someone on the phone.

This all came to a head recently when I ordered a print from RKG. They are a British company, so they carefully chose an American shipping company for us Americans that seemed like a good company on paper. The company promised express shipping and the cost was half of the actual print. I don’t mind paying for good service, otherwise I wouldn’t have bought it.

The tracking told me that it reached Cincinnati, OH in the morning of the day it was supposed to reach me. Damn. I looked it up again, expecting the drive to be roughly 6 hours, but it’s 11. I’m sure I did it the day it was supposed to arrive here, too.

It did not reach my house that night. Fine. It was supposed to and I paid for it to reach my house that night, but fine. I would wait for the next morning and–still in Cincinnati. What? I mean, what? I went online to the delivery company’s website and plugged in my tracking number. Yup. Stuck in Cincinnati. Hm. That could be a rom-com.

It didn’t arrive on Friday. Or Saturday. I dug a bit deeper on the website to see if I could actually talk with someone. I could in chat on the website! They asked for my tracking number, which I gave them. “Your package is in Cincinnati. Would you like to track another package?”


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