CAMBRIDGE LETTER
Living in a throwaway society
BILL KIRKMAN
You are there when repairing a product costs more than buying a new one.
WHEN I answer the telephone, I announce my name: "Bill Kirkman". I think that is businesslike. Others doubtless find it pompous, but at least it should leave callers in no doubt about the person they are speaking to.
I therefore become unreasonably irritated — irritated to the point of further pomposity — when, having heard my greeting, the caller says: "May I speak to Mr. Krickman?" Resisting the temptation to be even more pompous, I usually answer: "You are doing, what do you want?"
Market forces
What such callers invariably want, you will not be surprised to learn, is to sell me something. The ploys are numerous: We know that your car insurance expires soon; do you have a mobile phone?; how much are you paying for your gas and electricity?
In every case my answer is short and to the point: "It is no business of yours, and I have no intention of discussing it." Cold calling has become a major industry in the U.K. Presumably it must be successful, since otherwise organisations would not employ people to do it.
Buying habits
It is certainly not successful with me. If I want a new energy supplier, a better insurance deal, a bargain in double-glazing, or can't lose an investment opportunity, I shall emphatically not be persuaded by someone telephoning out of the blue. If what I am wanting is a major item, I shall take the elementary step of obtaining quotations before making up my mind. I find it surprising that there must be people who do not do that.
Attempts to sell something in this way are balanced by equally unsatisfactory systems for providing — or more usually, failing to provide — a service on request.
I experienced a classic example of this a few days ago. The printer connected to my computer suddenly developed a minor mechanical fault. It was obvious what the fault was, and to my simple mind, correcting it would be an easy task for any moderately skilled technician. I telephoned the technical help line of the manufacturer.
Getting through to someone took a long time, during which I became more and more exasperated by disembodied voices extolling the virtues of other products and encouraging me to buy them. When, eventually, my call was answered, I explained my problem and asked if a repair could be carried out. Yes, came the bored reply. It will take five days, and will cost 59 pounds.
The charge seemed excessive, and so I asked what the price of a new printer was. "I have no idea", was the answer.
My irritation having by now reached boiling point, I rang off, and visited the John Lewis store in Cambridge. Here, as always with this group which prides itself on taking an interest in its customers, I was able to talk with an assistant who knew and understood the products on sale, and who quickly explained that a new printer would cost — just 59 pounds.
What is more, I could have a, rather better, machine, of a different make, for exactly the same price. I clinched the deal.
True to style
A few days later, the original firm sent an automated email message, noting that I had used their technical support facility, and asking for my reactions to it. The link for downloading a reply form did not work, and so I took much pleasure in replying direct, without a form, and explaining exactly what was wrong with their service.
That provoked no response (no surprise there), confirming me in my belief that for this firm "service centre" was an oxymoron. The only interest was in selling yet another unsatisfactory product.
It is a truism that the more affluent people are, the more keen they are to spend much energy on finding yet another cut-price deal. It is, therefore, largely our own fault that we are relentlessly pursued by cold callers urging us to accept a bargain offer which we have not invited.
The easy way out
It is a truism, too, that in the affluent West we live in a throwaway society. Again, it is probably our own fault that getting something repaired costs as much as buying a new one.
What I find hard to accept is that, as a result of all this, we face on the one hand a marked lack of service, and on the other a positive disservice. But then, I am old enough to remember the time when the received wisdom was that the customer was always right.
Bill Kirkman is an Emeritus Fellow of Wolfson College Cambridge, UK. Email him at: bill.kirkman@gmail.com
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