I'm Famous, Again
Ian Urbina, author of the two articles in the NY Times that I previously mentioned, published a book of passive aggressive responses to Life's Little Annoyances. It's not only a great book, it includes one of my stories!
Excerpted from: Life's Little Annoyances: True Tales of People Who Just Can't Take it Anymore
(Chapter 2. Service with a Snarl, pp. 36-39) by Ian Urbina
BREAKING THEIR SCRIPT
The girl behind the counter at Baskin-Robbins certainly heard Mark Thomas when he said, “One scoop of Rocky Road in a cup to go, please.” Yet she insisted on asking: “Will that be one scoop or two?” And then: “Cup or cone?” followed by: “Will you be having that here or to go?”
The service representative on the phone had no idea how to solve David Wallach's problem. But before ending the conversation the representative nonetheless said, “I'm glad we could be of service. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
To survive mindless jobs, many people shift to autopilot. And increasingly, companies are attempting to ensure quality in customer service by crafting rigid scripts that their representatives have to follow.
But to be on the other side of these conversations can feel like talking to a robot, and not a very helpful one at that.
“It's tough to break people's routine, I guess,” says Thomas, the professional pianist from Queens, New York, who also has a peeve about pledge drives on public television. (See page 9.) “But it can get tedious if you're the other person.”
Thomas says that his response is to just keep saying the same sentence over and over again until the clerk realizes that there is no point going through the list of standard questions.
When Ben Bynum runs into the same predicament, he strikes back by making more work for the clerk.
“Wait, maybe I will get something different today, ” he says, “But I don't have my contacts in so could you read the options to me?”
One by one, he makes the clerk go down the list. “It usually wakes them up,” says Bynum, a twenty-three-year-old musician from Port Jefferson, New York.
Stewart Dean finds it galling when a customer service representative asks him whether there is anything else she can do for him even when she hasn't done anything for him in the first place. To lash back, he requests something that he is sure the person on the phone can't possibly provide.
“I usually respond: ‘Sure. Would you please get Bush out of the White House?“' says Dean, a fifty-seven-year-old computer administrator for Bard College in Annandale-on-‘Hudson, New York.
David Wallach finds this pro forma question exasperating as well. “How can you help me with anything else if you haven't even helped me at all yet?” he usually replies. Wallach, a twenty-five-year-old computer programmer living in Queens, ‘New York, observes that the rigidity of these scripts can lead to fairly ridiculous situations, like the one that unfolded during a recent call he made to Verizon. After a customer service representative was unable to solve Wallach's problem, he asked to speak with a supervisor. The representative asked if she could put him on hold first.
“Do I have a choice?” he replied.
The representative said that in order for her to get a supervisor, she needed to put him on hold.
“Well, do what you must,” Wallach responded.
The representative asked again, “So can I put you on hold?”
Wallach repeated his original answer, only to be followed with the same question again from the representative. Suddenly, it dawned on him: the representative needed an explicit yes or no to proceed. So he decided to say anything but those two words.
“Do what you must,” he said. And around they went.
“Sure, ” he replied. And around they went again.
“Go right ahead.” One more time they went.
Finally, the representative broke the loop.
“I need you to confirm that I can put you on hold—yes or no,” she said.
This time, Wallach replied by explaining that “sure” and “go right ahead” essentially mean the same thing as one of the two words she was seeking. Those alternative responses will just have to suffice, he said. Realizing that she was going to have to go off script to break the cycle, the representative handed Wallach to the supervisor.
“The whole purpose of these policies is to make the representatives more helpful,” he says. “Yet they accomplish just the opposite.”