It’s Not Rocket Service!

Did you ever have that dream where you can’t move? You call out for help but the sound doesn’t come out of your mouth? Or even if the sound does come out, nobody seems to hear you? I’ll bet it jarred you right out of your sleep.

It’s a scary thought – not having anybody hear you. If they can’t hear you, they can’t help you. If they can’t help you, well, you’re doomed! It’s enough to give you nightmares.

Welcome to the world of your customer.

Customers get angry, customers get upset, customers lash out. They yell. They scream. They cry. They go away and don’t come back. They decide to discontinue doing business with you and they close the door. You say, “Why did you stop doing business with me? What did I do wrong?” But they don’t hear you. It’s like that dream all over again.

Why do customers scream and yell when they feel wronged? Why do they lash out? Because they don’t think anybody cares or will care. In other words, they feel helpless. Why do they feel helpless? Because they’ve been in this situation before and have been met with disinterest, no empathy, and people who just didn’t give a damn. So when we’re thinking, “What’s their problem?” the problem is often us.

Every Day is the World Series

Anybody who has spent more than a day with me knows I am a HUGE baseball fan. From mid-November until late-March, these are the priorities in my life: My wife, my kids, my business, the rest of my family, my friends, and then everybody else.

From that March or April day when the first pitch of the season is thrown, these are my priorities: My wife, my kids, BASEBALL, my business, the rest of my family, my friends, and then everybody else (My wife and kids made me write it this way). So, suffice it to say, if anything gets in the way of baseball, it is a major crisis in my life.

November 4, 2001 was one of those days. The Arizona Diamondbacks and the New York Yankees were to play in the seventh and final game of that year’s World Series. The series was tied at three games to three and most of the games had been incredibly exciting.

I was particularly interested in this series because I have a particular dislike for the New York Yankees (Growing up in New York, you’re either a Yankees fan or a Mets fan. You can’t be both. It would be like having two religions. Through three generations, my family cast its lot with the Mets). To see the hated Yankees lose the World Series would make my year.

The morning of that Sunday night game, one of my daughters informed me that the cable TV was “out.” I checked out the TV, confirmed her observation, and called the cable company.

“I’d like to report that my cable is out and I need it fixed today. It’s very important,” I said calmly.

“We can have somebody out there Wednesday.”

“Wednesday? No, I need somebody here today,” I said with more concern in my voice.

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have anybody available ‘til Wednesday.”

I tried to sound nice and pleasant, but firm. “You don’t understand. It’s an emergency. Tonight is the seventh game of the World Series, and I have no cable.”

This woman had no empathy for me (or sympathy, for that matter). “We’ll be able to get somebody out there Wednesday.”

Now I was getting desperate. “But I’m having 10 people over tonight to watch the game, and my wife has made three dishes, and I have no cable!” (I made that up but figured it was worth a shot).

“Sir, all the appointments are taken up for today. Your technician will come Wednesday and we will credit you for the three days without cable.”

“You will credit me for the three days?” I said louder, feeling more and more helpless. “What does that mean?”

“You will get three days credit for not having service. That’s what the Cable Commission requires us to do.”

“Three days? I don’t pay for cable by the day! I pay for a month of cable. If I don’t get a month of cable, I should get a month free! Especially when I’m missing the seventh game of the World Series!”

Now I was speaking very loudly. Why? Because I was feeling helpless. In her mind, it didn’t matter if it was the seventh game of the World Series, the night of the Oscars, the moon landing, or the day the world was ending. Nothing was going to change anything.

To her, this conversation was not about me. It was about her. It was about the cable company. It was about what she was required to do – and what she wasn’t required to do.

She didn’t feel my pain. She didn’t empathize. She didn’t sympathize. She didn’t care. I was just another customer with another complaint.

A baseball fanatic with a World Series obsession?

“Not my problem.”

I could have screamed, I could have cried, but I didn’t. I went elsewhere.

The thing about helpless people is they’re not really helpless. They only feel helpless. When they gather their thoughts, they find alternatives. That alternative, more often than not, is going to your competitor.

Can you afford to lose even one customer these days?