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A Tale of Two Stories
Thoughts on the sorry state of customer experience at large service providers.
The other day I received a largish check from a client of mine, a financial institution in Canada. In retrospect, I should have known better, but I did what seemed logical at the time. I filled out a deposit slip, stuck the check and slip into an envelope, and put both into an ATM machine at my friendly, large, branch-on-every-corner bank.
My decision was logical in the sense that I was well trained by my bank to avoid entering the branch. That, after all, was the operating philosophy of many large banks during the nineties. Drive the customer to the ATM, phone, and web through carrots (lower fees if you went to low cost channels or brought in more business) and sticks (higher fees if you persisted in wanting human contact).
The part about knowing better is that I consult with banks and I know for a fact that they’re all on a justifiable crusade to lock down on fraud—and the numbers would stagger people if they knew what they were—and taking in a check drawn on a foreign bank through the ATM isn’t something they do anymore (assuming they ever did).
The error in my ways was pointed out two days later when I got an express package from the bank with the check stapled to a letter that said in part:
Dear Customer [why not my name, it was addressed to me, and the body contained my customer number and the amount of a transaction?]
On July xxxxxx, we receive a [name of bank] ATM deposit in the amount of $xxxxx for your account number xxxxxx, which contained a foreign check. Checks drawn on foreign financial institutions, payable in either US dollars, foreign dollars or other currency, require special handling. Such items cannot be deposited using the normal process for U.S. or domestic checks, and as a result, they cannot be accepted for deposit in an ATM.
Please contact your banker, who will be able to assist you in processing the enclosed foreign check.
My fault. I should have known better. So I took the check and letter down to the branch with the expectation that my banker would assist me in processing the enclosed foreign check, just like the letter said.
Once at the teller line, I knew enough to ask the teller to get a bank officer. The nice lady came forward and asked what she could do for me.
“I don’t know,” I said as I handed her the letter and the check.
She read the letter and said, “So what can I do for you?”
“I don’t know,” I said again, “You tell me.”
It wasn’t exactly a testy exchange, but I was expecting just a bit more. Like an explanation for example.
“We can’t accept the check.”
“You can’t accept the check?”
“No”.
This wasn’t feeling like “who will be able to assist you in processing the enclosed foreign check” that was promised in the letter.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“You can collect it from the bank directly or we can put it into collection for you.” I just looked at her because at that point I was feeling too stupid to ask her what “collection” meant.
“What does that mean?” I finally asked.
“If we put it into collection it will cost you $30 and will take at least 30 business days and even then we can’t guarantee anything.” I still didn’t know exactly what collection meant, but it wasn’t sounding like something I was interested in.
“Oh. If I asked someone else, would I get a different answer?” I inquired.
“I doubt it. I’m the manager here (her badge said she was the Service Manager). If you want, you can talk to the manager at your branch and see if she wants to go against bank policy.”
So I thanked her and left.
I actually wasn’t all that steamed up as the solution was really rather simple. I emailed my client and asked if he would do a wire transfer into my account. It took a day. I should have arranged for this in the first place, but I didn’t. My fault. In sharing the story with my client, also a bank, the CFO told me that they would have done the same thing (not accept the check).
No, I wasn’t steamed as much as I was disappointed that my bank had just blown a terrific opportunity to deliver at least a decent if not a WOW experience. For example:
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At no point did the teller or the manager look up my account to see whether or not I am a valuable customer. They had no idea if I had one product with the bank, or ten: one dollar on deposit or $100,000. I could have been the biggest VIP of the branch ten miles from there and they’d never know.
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At no point did the teller or manager think that I might have needed the money that I had attempted to deposit. It would have been a nice opportunity to offer me a line of credit for example, as in: “Mr. Hoffberg, it will take 30 days to process the item. We’re happy to do it for you. I see you don’t have a line of credit. If you need the money quicker than that, why don’t you let me get you set up? The application process takes three days. If you qualify, we could have it set up in less than two weeks. And we’d be happy to take care of that item at no charge.” That would have been nice.
At no point did the teller or manager offer an alternative like: “Did you know that you can have the payer wire the money to you? If you like, we can help you set that up.”
There are more things they could have done, but they didn’t. Hold that thought.
Telecom Hell
Four months ago I got a telemarketing call from AT&T. For some crazy reason I decided to listen to the pitch which promised to save me money on my phone bill through what I understood to be a flat rate program, much like how my cell phone works. The deal seemed pretty good and came at an auspicious time. Although my then current provider was offering me long distance at 4.5 cents per minute, I was completely unable to access my account via the web (one of the big selling points), so I was never able to see my bill. I also couldn’t get a calling card. So I went with AT&T.
A couple of weeks went by and nothing came in the mail from AT&T which I thought was kind of funny. But I did get a recorded call saying my service would start soon.
More time went by and a charge showed up on my credit card from my old provider. Odd. More time went by. I finally called AT&T at the number I had been given. I typed in my phone number at the prompt only to be informed that I didn’t have an account with AT&T. Hmmmm.
I punched in a lot more numbers and finally got through to a real person. I gave him my phone number and he typed around and then informed me that I didn’t have an account with AT&T. We talked about how that was possible for a few minutes and then he informed me that, “Oh, you don’t have a residential number, you have a business number.”
“I know that. It’s always been a business number. Why is that news to you?”
“Oh, well, the program you were offered isn’t available on a business number, only a residential number. I can connect you with our business office if you like?”
I thanked him for his time and declined. I figured I’d had enough of AT&T. I was wrong.
A couple of weeks later—now we’re out a couple of months—I finally got a bill. It turns out that AT&T had converted my account after all, even though they didn’t give me the plan they sold me. Instead, some system or person heaved me into a category for which the cost per minute was nearly twenty five cents. Remember that I was paying 4.5 cents before.
After I finished with a vigorous round of meditative breathing I called AT&T, again using the number I was provided. Again I typed in all the numbers in the world. Again the VRU informed me that I wasn’t an AT&T customer. Again I hit a bunch of more numbers. Again I talked to a live person. Again I was informed that I wasn’t a residential customer. Except this delightful woman told me she would take care of everything. And she did.
She reversed all the charges back to 7.5 cents per minute, the lowest AT&T offers a business customer like me, and issued me a credit (which had to go back to my local carrier for some reason). It wasn’t 4.5 cents per minute, but at least I was making progress.
She then transferred me over to the business department where I spoke with another delightful woman. I must have been on ether at that point because she was not only able to sign me up for a long distance plan, but a local plan, calling card, and all the rest. I was now a fully sold AT&T customer (I have their broadband at home and use their dial up service when I travel).
Not long after that, I started receiving collection notices from both my local phone company and AT&T for the ridiculous sums of money AT&T had charged and billed me for through my local carrier. This, even though I had recently been credited for all those over charges. But now I was really in trouble. When I called my local carrier, I was told that the company no longer handled my account and I should call AT&T (remember, I had just switched all my business over to AT&T). When I called AT&T I was told I needed to call my local carrier.
It went round and round. So does the story. It just keeps going to the point of absurdity. I think I finally have it all straightened out. I finally had to just get a new business number and start all over with new service and new providers. I have to wait another month or so and then I can get rid of AT&T.
. . . continued
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Kevin Hoffberg
Last modified:
05/03/06