Over the past several days, I have done the following:
• picked up a prescription at a drive-through window
• ordered an iced coffee at a drive-through window
• purchased a scone at a bakery
• taken my car for her 180,000-mile checkup
• had a dentist appointment
• completed an online registration for a hardware store app
• ordered a concert ticket online
What do all these experiences have in common? Each action on my part generated an online “customer satisfaction” survey about the process, goods, or services that I experienced with their company. I’m sure I should be happy that they all want to assure the ultimate: a satisfied customer. This may, of course, mean paying attention to feedback and making needed changes, but I am kind of tired of the “how did we do?” query.
As an educator, I am quite familiar with evaluation as a standard practice that is part of assuring the quality of the product. Sometimes, though, what is asked on a scale survey (ex., Likert Scale) should instead be yes or no: “Were you greeted promptly upon your arrival?” does not really fit with “meets expectations” vs. “exceeds expectations” as answer choices.
The scale survey can be tricky in other ways as well; for example, the place where I purchased the scone wanted to know how I rated “the warmth of our people.” If the person behind the counter said “What can I get you today?” and then gave me the scone and rang up the purchase, is that “meets expectations” or “exceeds expectations”? I chose “meets” and immediately got a question about what the employees could do better in order to earn my highest score: be more friendly, take more pride in their work, and so on.
I was kind of appalled that my honest rating might bring censure on that store, but what would “exceeds expectations while customer is purchasing a scone” look like?
What I didn’t get a survey for was using the above-mentioned app in the big-box hardware store while checking out with a plumbing item. There were no “manned” checkout stations; all were self-checkout. Three people were waiting for someone to come and assist them with their order (“Amelia to checkout for three customers, please”), but as I had only one item, I was pretty confident.
The first screen said “Scan your ID number (found in the Wallet in your account).” I opened the app on my phone and went through every page of the contents, but nothing was labeled “Wallet” and there was no ID number showing. Now feeling a little anxious, I looked behind me to see about five people waiting in line to use the self-checkouts. An employee had come to help the customer ahead of me, and I asked her, “Are there any checkouts with employees?” as it didn’t look as though I was going to find my elusive ID number on my own.
She snapped, “I am an employee.”
I said, “Of course you are, but you are tied up responding to situations of individual need here at the self-checkouts.” She turned her back on me. Another employee had come to help the person across from me, and she said, “Access the screen by putting in your phone number,” and that did work to bring up my account and the discount that I was looking for.
My take: what may have seemed like a savings to the company (hire fewer workers??) ended up frustrating the four customers who were at the four self-checkouts that day; all of us seemed to share some kind of issue with the app and the application of discounts.
Ease of use? Not so much. The customer always being right? Hmm…
*****
Donna Swope, author of today’s post, moved to Columbia in 1974. She is an Associate Professor of Nursing at Stevenson University, an avid reader, enjoys singing in her church choir, and cheering for the Baltimore Ravens. Nothing tops her pride in her five grandchildren - - if there were an award for sports games watched by grandmothers, she’d win first place.
Many thanks to Ms. Swope, who responded to my invitation for guest posts last week. Have thoughts about customer service? You know where to send them.
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