Famous Paintings Reviewed

No Famous Paintings - Customer Service Sagas Instead!

An art history blog post from Famous Paintings Reviewed.

While I'm usually all about famous paintings, two customer service tales take precedence this week -  one a true karma workout, as my friend, Jan, says, and the other, stellar service.  It began innocously - I ordered a sports jacket from Bloomingdale's for my husband's birthday.  Several days later, our son called UPS to pick up a package of diabetes supplies for return to Neighborhood Diabetes.  You guessed it - UPS picked up the Bloomingdale's package and returned that to Neighborhood Diabetes, who called to report the error and kindly re-sent the package.

Except it got lost.  Armed with tracking number, I called UPS for help and got Kara. After I explained the snafu, it unfolded like this:

Me: So what happens now that the package is missing?

UPS: Thank you for your patience, Ms. Benford (TYFYPMB). What's the tracking number?

Me: Oh, I just spoke that into the voice-activated system.  Here it is again. H(as in Henry)98S(as in Sam)P(as in Peter)...

UPS: We delivered that to 75 Fletcher Road on 7/7 at 6:32 p.m. and left it at your front door.

Me: I know - The Voice said that, but I never got it.

 

 

 

Edvard Munch.  The Scream, 1910.  Tempera and pastels on cardboard, approx. 36" x 29".  Munch Museum, Oslo.

Tuesday's title: Please Connect Me to a Thinking Human.

UPS: TYFYPMB. Did you check with neighbors?

Me: Well... but you said it was left at my front door.

UPS: Ah, yes. You need to call Bloomingdale's to report that it's lost.

Me: Bloomingdale's? The package was shipped by Neighborhood Diabetes.  Since it was delivered to my house, why do I need to call ND? Isn't this a UPS problem?

UPS: TYFYPMB. Policy says the shipper must initiate a missing-package claim.

Me (having just spent 20 minutes with ND locating the tracking number): Wait a minute. I look at this as a mistake that UPS made, and feel that UPS should rectify the problem.

UPS: It's UPS policy about how this must work, Ms. Benford.

Me: May I please speak to a supervisor?

 

Francisco Goya.  The Duchess of Alba, 1797. Oil on canvas, 82 1/2" x 58 1/6".  The Hispanic Society of America, New York.

Tuesday's title: I Insist YOU Fix Your Mistake, UPS!

UPS: May I put you on hold? Click (before I respond).

UPS (8 minutes later): Hello, Ms. Benford. TYFYP.  This is [name omitted].  Kara has updated me on your situation, and I'll happily call Bloomingdale's for you.

Me: Bloomingdale's isn't even in the picture! They aren't the shipper!

UPS: Well, that's not what Kara said.

Me (Retells the switch-up saga, take two).  And please, don't thank me anymore for my patience, which is now in short supply.

UPS: I understand your situation, Ms. Benford. Contact Neighborhood Diabetes and ask them to initiate a missing package search.

Me: You know, this is chewing up more time than I have -- and I really feel that finding the package is your responsibility, given that UPS made the mistake.  See what I mean?

UPS: It's not taking a long time, Ms. Benford -- we've only been on the phone for 7 minutes.

Me: It's been 46 minutes for me!

Call mysteriously disconnects.  While fuming, I hear the Siren-call of decapitating weeds and find it suddenly enticing.  Maybe my husband didn't need a sports jacket anyway. Should I save it for his next birthday? As I don my garden sneakers, the phone rings.

Voice: Hello, Ms. Benford? This is Suzanne from UPS in South Carolina.  Are you having a shipping problem?

Me (not containing my shock and awe): Are you serious?

UPS: TYFYPMB.  Please tell me what happened.

That morning, my computer started flashing red, menacing lock symbols and wouldn't boot up. With Dell customer support, we deduced that either the motherboard died (bad news) or the CPU did (even worse news).  Horrible news, in fact, for an internet business, and highly unamusing for a woman just back from four days of helping elderly in-laws secure in-home nursing care.

Dell customer service promised that a technician would come to my house/office the next day, and then asked if my computer

Henri Matisse.  The Dance, 1909-1910.  Oil on canvas, 102" x 154".  Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg.

Tuesday's Title: Susan Greets the Dell Technician.

needed other parts, like key covers they might replace at the same time.  Proactive thinking! No false and ingenous concerns for my patience! A customer service person empowered to fix problems!

At the end of Monday, I was computer-less still -- inconvenient, but with a forthcoming solution within a prescribed timeframe, it's no biggie. A far more consequential issue than a missing sports jacket, but with UPS' abysmal customer service, the jacket saga rankled.  And still does. 

Russell, the Dell technician, arrived as scheduled yesterday (see above), swapped out the motherboard, and replaced the rubber feet on my trusty steed. I'm good to go. 

Seth Godin, who blogs about internet marketing and business issues in Seth's Blog, observes that most companies measure customer service reps on the wrong metrics, like calls taken per hour.  Why isn't it obvious that this metric favors speed in lieu of customer satisfaction (read his thoughts in Thanks for calling, please go away)? He notes in other posts that corporations have begun to monitor negative comments posted online -- any wagers on whether UPS might call?

Meanwhile, I'm off to email Dell and thank them for Russell's exemplary customer service. It's still too hot for sports jackets, anyway. And TYFYPDR (and thank you for your patience dear reader) - I can't help it that I think of life in terms of famous paintings.

P.S. Then there was the other UPS snafu, famous in family lore. With the Red Sox in the World Series, I finally buckled to our boys' request for a big screen TV, due to arrive two weeks prior to the games.  The arrival date came and went, I DID contact the shipper, we cancelled the party (sans TV, we went elsewhere), and two weeks later we learned that UPS delivered it to our neighbor, who'd been shamelessly watching it for two weeks...