Posts Tagged ‘customer service’
Transition Month
August seems like a transition month. It doesn’t really stand alone as a destination month that we look forward to arriving. Other spring and summer months really carry their own weight (my local geographic region-centric take). April showers and May flowers. Everything about June is great. July being smack dab in the middle of summer and including the U.S. Independence Day makes it the jewel of them all.
Then August arrives and the shortening of days becomes more noticeable and the onset of fall sports training camps begin opening. Everything about the month tends to point toward the arrival of September when sports seasons start and schools begin classes.
Sure, locally grown sweet corn becomes available in August, but we’ve been watching fields growing all summer long so it just doesn’t seem like an exclusively August thing.
Cyndie arrived home yesterday and Asher and I were both thrilled to see her again. She gathered produce from her garden and reported that her trumpet vine is going to flower. Her new pond vacuum arrived so she assembled that and gave our landscape pond a serious going-over.
While she was opening the mail and packages that had accumulated, she noticed one was for me. I hadn’t even looked. It was my tent rainfly from The North Face!
I had received no prior communication from them since sending it off to Texas for assessment. They did what I hoped they would, and what I wouldn’t have been able to achieve if I tried to do it myself. They completely resealed all the seams like new.
The North Face has made me very happy once again. Such incredible support to one of their customers!
It’s got me thinking that August is a really great month after all and deserves to be appreciated on its own merits.
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Returning Again
This saga continues… The replacement rainfly that I was so excited about receiving from The North Face warranty department last year needs to be returned for the same reason I sent back the original rainfly. The seam sealing tape is coming loose.
I used the rainfly for just one week while on the Tour of Minnesota trip in June and discovered a few drips as proof that it leaks.
Not wanting to deal with shipping the rainfly back to face unknown odds of their ability to solve the problem, I pulled it out of storage yesterday to assess how bad the delamination really is. Would it be possible to buy some sealer and brush it on the seams myself?
It didn’t take long to decide I wasn’t up for the challenge. There are just too many places where the original tape has lost contact with the fabric. Also, I’m not certain which version of a seam sealer would match the fabric. Urethane or silicone?
The label on the rainfly says- Fly: 100% Polyester, Canopy: 100% Nylon. Huh? Canopy? I have no idea how to interpret this information.
I sent an email to The North Face warranty department seeking advice, even though it was after hours there. What did I have to lose?
That company impressed me once again. I received a reply 14 minutes later, at 6:12 p.m. from their Customer Care Team. They reminded me that items must be returned for assessment and provided a label for shipping.
I don’t know if they will be able to help me or not since my tent is obsolete, but I’m impressed enough with The North Face to give them another try. It’s my guess that the replacement rainfly they sent me was on a shelf somewhere for nearly as long as I’ve owned this tent. Even though it hadn’t been subject to harsh weather, time alone was tough enough on the materials they use to degrade the adhesive of the sealing tape.
Since the tent is obsolete, I doubt they have any fresh versions of this rainfly laying around in their warehouse. And since they didn’t see fit to reapply seam sealant to the original rainfly I returned, I am suspicious about the likelihood of them deciding to do so on this one.
I’ll give them another chance, just in case I’m wrong. It buys me more time to kick and scream against solving my problems by simply purchasing a new tent that was manufactured in this century.
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Delivery Achieved
I got a phone call from the store in Prescott a few days after I learned the next available date (April 16) the delivery company would be able to pick up my new electric zero-turn lawn mower from Tractor Supply and drive it to my home. It was one of the managers. She expressed sympathy for my long wait and wanted to know if I would be around later in the day because a member of her staff had a truck and the store got a new trailer…
Even though the mix-up on the first planned day of delivery wasn’t the fault of the Tractor Supply staff, they wanted to take care of me now that they had the means to do it.
Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
Mark this down as another victory in the realm of Customer Service. I asked whether the store would get credited the fee I had paid to their third-party contractor and the manager said they would. At this point, I chose not to haggle over the cost. In fact, I spent a little more cash on the deal because I couldn’t resist tipping the guy who drove his personal truck to pull their trailer.
That’s all behind me now. My pride led me to wait until the driver left before climbing aboard for the first time. My initial attempts to drive in a straight line were embarrassing and I quickly learned where the button was to select the slower speed setting. I accomplished a fair amount of squealing tires on the pavement as I experimented in my first-ever attempt at operating a lever-controlled steering system.
One of the big attractions to having the agility this mower offers is the number of obstacles there are around here. That also means I don’t have a hazard-free location where I can practice developing my control. I anticipate operating it on the slow speed setting for a while once the mowing days arrive.
In the meantime, I need to pick a location and configure a setup for the three dual-battery chargers.
Our fleet of 60-Volt Greenworks Tools devices now includes a 20″ push mower, a blower, and a 26″ hedge trimmer in addition to the new tractor. I think it would be fair to call me a fan.
Speaking of being a fan, this morning I am ready to tear up my membership in fandom for Minnesota sports after the epic failure of the UofM Gopher hockey team to match the attacks by the Quinnipiac University Bobcats in the championship game of the Frozen Four tournament last night.
I don’t understand why the Gophers tried to defend a one-goal lead for the entire third period by going into a defensive shell when their strength is as an offensive goal-scoring machine. Hats off to Quinnipiac for being such strong competition that they knocked Minnesota off their game.
The end of that game was embarrassing.
As many others have already commented online, that was such a Minnesota way to lose in team sports [MN Lynx excluded]. A quick internet search revealed the common phrase is, “Minnesota Sports Curse.” It’s a thing.
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Hope Springs
Like the first sprout of green growth breaking through the blanket of leaves on the forest floor, reaching toward the rays of sunlight, I was full of anticipation for the scheduled delivery of my new electric lawn tractor yesterday. Seeking to assure my plan would work smoothly, I called the store in Prescott to check in and let them know this would be the day I was expecting delivery.
I was told they had received an email from the delivery company confirming that fact. The person on the phone said he could call me to let me know when the tractor got picked up. When my phone rang while I was out tending to the horses at noon, it was from the delivery company driver telling me he was 30 minutes from arrival.
Filled with hope for the approaching conclusion of this complicated purchase process, I didn’t question that the call came from the delivery company, not the store. Since I was already out with the horses and the driver would be arriving soon, I chose to wait with them and watch for the truck. The horses were understandably jumpy because the gusting wind was blowing the falling ice pellets with extra force and thunder overhead added dramatic effect.
Soon the precipitation transitioned into a heavy downpour that roared on the metal roof of the barn. I was happy to see the horses chose to endure the noise and stay under the overhang through the worst of the rain. It was taking the delivery driver longer than 30 minutes but in this weather, the driving would become slower going.
The SUV that finally pulled up our driveway looked too small to be bringing my tractor. The man asked where my tractor was located. I figured he was a helping hand who beat the truck to our location. No, he told me he was here to assemble my tractor (which I know simply involves bolting the seat on and attaching the steering levers). I asked if he had gone to the store first. No, he had come from Milwaukee! (300 miles away on the other side of the state of Wisconsin.)
Well, that explained why the store hadn’t called me to report the tractor had been picked up.
Too bad I didn’t just install a hitch on my car and rent a trailer to pick up the tractor myself two weeks ago.
The driver told me he would need to contact his office, reschedule my delivery, and he would call me back. Around dinnertime, while I was ankle-deep in mud scooping up manure, my phone rings with a call from Tennessee. It’s the delivery company calling to check if my tractor had arrived as scheduled. She was definitely looking forward to my happy reply and sounded totally shocked and was very apologetic to learn of the mixup.
I hope to find out tomorrow what their new delivery date will be. I definitely didn’t need the mower today but if the weather forecast for high temperatures to hit the 60s(F) this weekend and 70s next Tuesday proves accurate, lawn mowing will become a thing again real soon.
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Praising Chewy
It is unfortunately rare to hear as many stories about good customer service as there are bad experiences out in the world. Cyndie and I have a new appreciation for our primary online source of pet supplies after receiving exceptional support from the Customer Service personnel at Chewy.com.
When we struggled with treating our dog, Delilah’s mysterious illness that eventually took her life this month, Chewy was there for us before and after. Our veterinarian prescribed a special food that Chewy was able to provide, as long as we showed them the instructions from a vet.
Prior to Delilah getting sick, Cyndie had just ordered a new 50 lb. bag of dry food and a box of canned food. That package was delivered to us after Delilah started vomiting regularly. The only reason we opened the box was that it also contained some pill pockets that we tried when attempting to treat Delilah’s stomach with meds.
After nothing worked and we chose to end Delilah’s suffering, Cyndie contacted Chewy to ask if we could return the unopened box of prescribed food. The response she received surprised both of us.
Offering heartwarming condolences to start, with no return required they credited us not only for the order of special food but also for the previous purchase of foods that Cyndie hadn’t even asked about. They suggested we donate the food to a local rescue or shelter in Delilah’s memory.
A few days later, we received a delivery of roses from Chewy with further condolences for our loss.
Granted, our perception is soaked in emotion, but the understanding that Chewy as a company has demonstrated in this instance has put them on a pedestal of customer service greatness for us that is going to be hard to beat.
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Corporate Contrast
While attempting to make some really delicious pumpkin fudge last week, Cyndie was aghast to discover that the weight of Nestle white chocolate chips did not equal the 12 ounces marked on the package. After pouring out two packets and placing them on the scale, she was 4 ounces short of the required amount for her recipe.
That just wouldn’t do.
It is rare that I see my lovely wife get particularly worked up over relatively minor issues, but this fall fudge recipe is not one to be careless with when it comes to portions. With an uncharacteristic furor, Cyndie fussed and fumed over the need to interrupt her baking for a trip to the nearest grocery store to get more white chocolate chips.
Next thing I know, I hear her talking to someone. She had called Nestle Customer Service to lodge a complaint!
This was getting serious. First, they told her that 10 oz. is the size they package. That didn’t fit any logic for a package clearly labeled 12 oz. Then they admonished her when she admitted the package had a “best by” date of September. She was given the option of receiving some coupons in the mail in compensation for her suffering.
The two new 12 oz. packages she purchased to finish making the fudge weighed in at 10 oz. and 11 oz.
Who knew a corporation might play fast and loose with rules?
Contrast Cyndie’s customer service experience with mine as I sought assistance from The North Face for my beloved Rock 22 tent.
I bought it so long ago that I can’t remember how old it is now, but I’d guess it’s been 10-15 years. The elastic cord in the tent poles wore out years ago and some of the fittings where the sections connect started sliding down into the tube. I shipped the two poles to The North Face warranty department and swiftly received a brand new pair of poles in replacement.
This past summer I survived two major thunderstorms inside that tent and my two-year-old patch of waterproof tape held up fine on the rainfly. Unfortunately though, one clip and a large length of seam sealing tape delaminated to an extent beyond my ability to salvage.
I figured it was time to buy a new tent but decided there was enough life left in the rest of the old Rock 22 to see if The North Face might be able to help me out. In a phone call with a real person in Customer Service, I was informed I could drop off my flysheet at their store in the Mall of America and they would send it to the warranty department in Texas for analysis.
Yesterday, Fed Ex delivered a brand new replacement rain fly for a tent that is so old it is no longer being made. No questions asked.
I rarely like to boast of fanatic loyalty to a corporation for its products but I will be hard pressed to ever feel The North Face is not worthy of whatever price they charge for their tents.
Whatever they cost, I suspect the Nestle white chocolate chips are overpriced.
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Customer Serviced
It was my mistake. The website was precise in clarifying the quantity was “1 bracket” and I knew I needed two, so I ordered two. When my package arrived, the box revealed it was “One kit.”
I didn’t need to order two.
These weren’t cheap. Despite my preference to simply ignore the whole dilemma and have it fade away as if it never happened, I figured my time was easily worth recouping the otherwise wasted money.
There was no information about returns included in the package and the emailed receipt was incredibly oversimplified and devoid of any helpful detail. I pulled up the site online. While I was hunting for links hinting about support or customer service, an invitation to chat materialized in the lower right-hand corner of the window.
I always prefer chat sessions over waiting in the queue after navigating a phone maze to speak to a customer representative. The chat window launched with a well-labeled “automated response” offering me an opportunity to see the latest sale promotions.
Discounting that opening gambit, I typed out my initial query asking how to proceed with a return.
A notice appeared indicating there was one person in queue. No problem for me. The chat window was off to the side and I was simultaneously multitasking on actual work.
After a reasonable wait, a second “automated response” popped up asking for my email which would allow them to contact me at the next opportunity. I willingly complied.
Minutes passed. Eventually, many minutes passed. I watched my email and that notice indicating “one person in queue” for any hint of activity.
In hope of priming the pump again, I typed into the chat window asking if communication would move exclusively to email.
Do you know that scene in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” where principal Ed Rooney is at the front door and finally hears the taped dialogue start over again? That was my experience when it was confirmed for me that I was talking to a bot.
The chat window responded to my latest question with an opportunity to see the latest sale promotions.
After a pause, a second “automated response” popped up asking for my email which would allow them to contact me at the next opportunity.
Later in the evening, I spotted a new message in my email from the company. Subject line: “Hot Exclusive Prices That Won’t Last Till 2021!”
I’m pretty sure they have me right where they want me, and it has nothing to do with providing information on returns.
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Feeling Happy
Woke up this morning and looked out at the sun coming up over Round Lake in Hayward, Wisconsin and realized we weren’t at home. Then, I remembered the wonderful dinner we had at the Lake Magnor Lighthouse restaurant attached to the convenience store gas station on Hwy 63 in Clayton on the way up.
Servers were fully present and projecting great energy, which enlivened the whole place. We seated ourselves in a booth with a view across the road to Lake Magnor and soaked up the atmosphere. It wasn’t our second honeymoon, but it was feeling a lot like the first one.
This was the first weekend we had coverage to be away since the occasion of our 37th anniversary, so the two of us have dashed up to a solo weekend at the lake. Easily reminiscent of our visit this month back in 1981.
When dinner was delivered, the “bottomless” real fresh-cut potato fries on Cyndie’s plate won me over instantly. This was after I had already visited the salad bar and discovered a spring mix of greens in place of the usual iceberg lettuce, plus every topping I ever wanted. More characteristic of a trendy urban restaurant than this perfectly kitschy rural diner.
Good food, great service, and two oldsters reliving their lifetime of being in love provided all the ingredients necessary for a memorable moment that lasts.
The fact that we’d cluelessly driven past the place so many times before on our travels to the lake enhanced our delight over the serendipity of finally discovering it this time.
I won’t deny that my mindset was already primed with happiness over an achievement earlier in the day that I have been waiting far too long to resolve. We got our home back-up generator serviced!
It has been over five years since installation and I have neglected it ever since, despite repeated mailings urging us to purchase an extended warranty and service contract. There was a constant mental conflict over thinking I was being negligent and they were being overly persistent.
Eventually, I contacted the installer to inquire about a preventive maintenance inspection. They no longer provide support to this product. I tried another place they referred me to, but it only offered long term warranty programs like the one the manufacturer keeps mailing to us.
I mulled over trying to figure things out on my own and changing the oil myself. That never seemed to lead to any action.
Finally, I found a new company that could service it without a long contract and would come from Minnesota to do it. However, they charged me immediately on the day I scheduled the service, and then postponed the appointment twice, both times without warning me in advance.
I was thrilled yesterday afternoon when the tech called to say he was fifteen minutes away. The firmware is updated, oil, spark plugs, and air filters changed, and specs calibrated.
With that completed, I was more than happy when we set off for this lovely weekend celebrating September in the north woods. No wonder the food tasted so good.
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Lake Hangover
When the day-job is extremely Monday-ish, the struggle to get my mind back into work mode after a weekend at the lake with Cyndie’s family is doubly difficult. The dramatic difference of the sterile, air-conditioned atmosphere compared to the lush, warmth of the beach and woods was shock enough without the added stress of multiple challenging complications on the first day of the week.
I’m sure there is a balance between not caring at all and being overly concerned about keeping all parties happy. That’s an act that I have yet to master, swaying far past the center balance in my predilection to avoid the extreme of not caring.
Arriving home to a dog and cat who are both over the moon to see me again goes a long way toward purging any lingering angst from the work day.
With the respectable amount of heat and humidity lingering over our region, I was disinclined to jump right into a chore when I got home. Pausing to decompress in the recliner predictably led to an involuntary nap after I was done giving the cat all the scratches her stretched out body wanted.
Word from Cyndie and Jackie is that the chickens were given access to the wide open free range yesterday and they quickly made tracks for the composting manure piles to kick around and peck for bugs. That’s what they were hired to do, so I’m pleased as punch, even if it means I need to extend extra energy more often to reshape the resulting mess.
All ten were present for bed check last night, thank goodness.
Shortly after that, I was headed for my own bed, falling asleep to memory images lingering still from the glorious weekend at the lake.
Here’s hoping Tuesday at the day-job will be as soothing as floating in the water under the warm sunshine was over the weekend.
Well, a guy can dream, can’t he?
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Relative Something 