This is likely become a tirade. I’ll do my best to avoid it, to keep the discourse meaningful, but I suspect that it will inevitably erode into nothing but sound and fury.
In recent months, I’ve had a few highly disturbing encounters with corporate customer service representatives. Now I’m not generally a complaining customer. I don’t send food back in restaurants; I don’t loudly demand to speak to a store manager; I don’t picket or post web pages to make my protests public. But I do have this quaint, childish notion that if a business is failing to satisfy its customers’ needs in some elemental way, the business might be interested in knowing that and might conceivably wish to take some remedial action.
I’m a fool.
A few months ago, I went to some considerable trouble to find an e‑mail contact for a mammoth food producer (not an easy task in itself). This crafty company had recently revamped the packaging of one of its products, and the new design had one major flaw—it was impossible to open! It seemed to me that this was something worth pointing out. I composed an e‑mail worthy of publication (though I won’t publish it here—I can’t afford legal representation). It was informative and amusing, and expressed the nature of the problem in what I hoped would be a helpful and supportive manner. After all, I liked the product, and wanted to continue to enjoy it…if I could just get the blinking package open!
A day later, I received a “response” to my complaint. The form letter thanked me for my communication and urged me to continue to enjoy their fine product.
Complaintus interruptus.
Add to that a more recent experience. After a series of poor customer service experiences with a different company, I canceled my account with them and wrote them an e‑mail outlining my dissatisfaction. The gist of my message was “Don’t ever darken my door—I hate you guys.” The very next day, I received a response informing me of all the great value packages they had to offer and surely I would be interested in one of them. It was the corporate equivalent of jamming their fingers in their ears and loudly singing “la‑la‑la‑la‑la.”
I realize that a non-hermit living in the modern world could never completely avoid gargantuan corporations, and I’m not suggesting that we try. I know that the loss of my $4.99 a month will not affect Behemoth Amalgamated in the least. Even if I got all my friends and everyone they know to boycott the business, not even a blip would register on its sales charts.
So what is a consumer to do? Unfortunately, the corporations have already provided their response:
Screw you, and please come again.