Why?

One of the things we’ve been wrestling with this summer is a profusion of unhelpful businesses.  We’ve been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of paperwork from Cornell, Oxford, and our house-rental agency, much of which is just frustrating in that it takes time away from real work, but all of which continues to remind us of the sheer wastefulness of moving (yes, we’ve posted long missives on our dislike of modern society’s fascination with mobility).  But on top of that, we’ve run into a few real snarls: I’ve been in a three-month dispute with UPS over packages that we had sent from Ithaca to Canada, and our visa applications for the UK were handled by a private company that made our handing over a ton of money for a one-shot application process a lot more harrowing than it needed to be.

I think I’ve largely gotten over the shock of finding that customer service has taken a serious nosedive since I worked in it, but I find myself continually torn between taking a line that I find civilized and logical in dealing with these companies on the phone, and taking the line that seems to trigger progress.  For example, UPS sends you through a maze of call centers in six major cities any time you try to call them.  Regardless of the city or person who answers, they have mastered a certain kind of unity: none of them seems to mind speaking a bunch of blather at you while he or she buys time, such as “I am happy to process your request in a manner that will be satisfactory,” particularly when you’ve pointed out a problem in the system and that you’re not going to just nod and hang up.

In these cases I seem to come up with two responses: one is to point out that they don’t know what they’re talking about.  When a young man clearly had never processed an international transaction, but insisted on providing answers for me anyway, I listened for awhile, took notes, and then told him that I was very sorry to have to say this, but he didn’t know what he was talking about, and I wished he would transfer me elsewhere rather than make up things while I waited.  No, not my most subtle, but I was trying to keep my temper in check as best I could as I was being lied to right and left.  I got transferred, and I addressed the problem directly, both of which I wanted, but I wasn’t able to do so without hijacking the “conversation” and staying civil.

The other response seems to be to play some sort of bizarre corporate word-fishing game, where after listening to blather for several minutes, realizing you’re getting nowhere, you simply speak into empty air something like this: “Thank you very much for your help.  Perhaps another solution might be reached?”  Obviously the person didn’t have any other solution in mind, and you are saying absolutely nothing in direct response to what they were talking about.  But vague gestures like this seem to spark the magic words: “I’ll transfer you to my supervisor.”  Okay, so that works, because nobody at the lower levels has the power to do anything but repeat my case back to me, but it makes me feel covered in corporate slick.

I have been doing a lot of the latter in phone calls where I reach individuals on lower rungs of the latter; I’ve been doing more of the stubborn former when I’ve reached someone higher up who has talked to me a few times.  Both leave me unhappy with myself and corporate America, particularly since I hope to reach old age without becoming cripplingly cynical about the world.  Clearly it’s time to go play with Katherine, rather than make phone calls.

Erin