Why does it always happen to me?
Aspects of modern life that drive you nuts – part 36.
Yesterday I was endeavouring to order a set of four 2017 pocket diaries from a well-known supplier for members of my family. Hitherto the annual process has worked like this: towards the end of August the current diary in question has a note printed inside indicating that next year’s diaries can now be ordered by contacting either the website address or the phone number provided.
I then call the number, identify who I am and place my order, requesting that four diaries for the following year be sent to the usual address, each stamped in gilt lettering with a different family member’s initials. The person on the end of the phone ‘sets it up’, takes a credit card payment and bingo! – all done in between five and ten minutes, with the diaries themselves being delivered a couple of weeks later.
Not so this time.
Firstly, this time the diary’s notification that next year’s diary can now be ordered fails to include either the website address or the phone number.
I then went online to the relevant website, reached the ‘shopping’ section and trawled through the diary types listed in order to try and find the particularly diary I always order (an inconclusive quest as it happens) – and then (joy of joys!) managed to locate the relevant contact number.
Upon calling the number, I was sucked into an automated system. A friendly male voice welcomed me to ‘diary team customer services’, stated that for training purposes the phone call might be recorded and then invited me to press ‘1’ in order to be put through to ‘diary team customer services’.
So far so good.
Until I got through to ‘diary team customer services’, whereupon I was stunned to find myself apparently returned to the very same automated answering system … which told me that for training purposes the phone call might be recorded and then invited me to press ‘1’ in order to be put through to the ‘customer services team’ …
And again – thereafter said routine was repeated ad infinitum (or would have been, had I let it).
Pardon me for being a curmudgeonly old coot, but this is one of my biggest bug-bears with modern world.
Why do people ever change things for new systems that don’t work as well?
[Don’t worry, I know the answer – it’s probably cheaper, and in the quest for economy the fact it disadvantages and complicates life for the customer is of course irrelevant].
I could have tried to order the diaries online from the website but – because I was unsure from the images which of model of available diaries we habitually order, and I tend to get confused when ordering online anyway, I’d have far preferred to speak to a human being, with whom the conversation would have gone as follows if previous years’ experience is anything to go by:
“Hi, it’s [me – I’d identify myself and explain I’m doing the same family ‘job lot’ order we’ve done for twenty-plus years in a row] …”
The lady on the end of the phone would bring up our data on her screen, including the model of diary we order, and of course the initials we desire to have on each of the four diaries.
Lady Diary Team Member (‘LDTM’): “How can I help?”
“We’d like to place an order exactly similar to the one we’ve placed annually for the past twenty or so years …”
LDTM: “Okay – same credit card details for payment?”
“Yes.”
LDTM: “That will be [whatever the total figure is]”
“Fine.”
The payment goes through.
LDTM: “That’s all done then – the diaries should be with you within a fortnight. Can I help you with anything else …?”
“No, thank you. That’s all we wished to do – thank you very much indeed.”
Cue goodbyes and end of conversation.
None of that was possible yesterday. After another thirty minutes of frustration, making over an hour wasted in total, I retired from the fray in need of a stiff drink.
Another member of the party then took over and eventually, by calling a third or fourth different telephone number, managed to get through to someone from a completely different department who – by either chance or divine intervention – seemed to get to the nub of the problem.
The ‘diary customer services team’ had been discontinued three months previously and it was now only possible to re-order said diaries via the website shopping page.
Said party member now dealing with the issue subsequently managed to place the order satisfactorily.
C’est la vie [I thought to myself, wondering why the hell it had to be ….]