Monday, September 06, 2004
Poor Customer Service

Stories about customer service may well become a running feature on ricoblog. Or not.

Anyway, this is more of the white board story. On my white-board search I also went to Home Depot. Hey, why not check, right? They might have had the super-groovy 4x8 sheets of white board material, which would've been really awesome.

As I was wandering in the lumber section with 'nary an orange apron to be seen, I heard at least two people mutter, “now if I could only find someone to help me”. There was an older lady fighting with some lumber trying to get it into her cart. There was nobody around. As I walked by I asked her if I could help. Unfortunately I was about five minutes too late — she'd just managed to get what she needed in her cart. “Oh, do you work here?!” she said. “No, but you looked like you could use some help. Are you sure I can't help you with that?” “No”, she said, “I just need to get to the place where they cut lumber now, I've got what I need. But thanks for asking!”

What is it about providing good customer service that is so hard? I saw small groups of orange-aproned Home Depot employees milling about other sections, but the lumber section — you know, the one with the really big bulky stuff — was almost totally void of any employees. I did see one employee in that section; he looked frazzled and was in the process of helping an older gentleman with some stuff. Too bad there weren't three more employees in that area to help folks out.

If you're interested, see BobPritchett.com for other customer service stories.

Post Author: Rico
Tuesday, September 07, 2004 3:00:15 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 

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Tuesday, September 07, 2004 5:14:38 PM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00)
So, I'm in Fred Meyer on Saturday. I'm looking for those little felt pads that you stick to the bottom of furniture legs so you don't scratch the floor. I wander around a bit: first the home furnishings area, then the housewares area, then finally the tools area. OK, I did my best, I give up. Time to ask for help. There's a gal down one of the tools aisles restocking the shelf. Perfect. "Excuse me," I say when I get just about five feet from her. She looks over then goes back to stocking. "Excuse me," I say again. "Can you help me find something?" She looks up, and says, "What do you need?" and not pleasantly, either. I begin: "Those little felt pads---" but she interrupts me with a look of disgust and a pointing finger. They're behind her, on the same aisle (of course, further down the aisle than I'd yet been). Oh, and she didn't stand up to clear the aisle so we could get the cart down there, either. She kept squatting, taking up two-thirds of the roadway. I got my stuff, and on the way out to the car, remarked to the missus, "Well, that girl was pretty rude." She had a pithier word for it.
Eli Evans
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