Sorry, you missed me!

I’m sitting at home today, waiting for the FedEx guy. This is a common story for me lately. I ordered a new iMac last week, and although the one-unit iMac appealed to my need for simplicity and fewer objects, it has arrived so far in three boxes, on two different days, through two different parcel carriers and three different shipping methods. Apple’s known for it’s ease and simplicity. The brand’s minimal aesthetic; its friendly customer service “geniuses;” its intuitive, even human-like product design that features rounded corners; lights that “breathe”; and silky smooth sensitive buttons and keys that beg you to stroke them lightly.

Ahem. Where was I?

So it seems Apple has thought of everything. Or not. The quality shopping experience ended the moment my shipping status changed to “in transit” and I began waiting, rescheduling, and collecting a dizzying array of sticky, scribbly paper slips.

If you have a doorman, a spouse who stays or works at home, a nanny, or a particularly apt pet who can sign for packages while you’re out (one of our new clients tells us they exist), you probably don’t see the problem. But if you’re a working urbanite like me, you’re frustrated by the system by which we receive packages at our homes.

But this isn’t just a rant. I did that already, over a glass of wine last week after the UPS gal rang my doorbell at 10:30 on a Friday night. I didn’t answer it because in Brooklyn, you don’t answer the door at 10:30 p.m. unless you’re expecting someone. Especially if they’re in a UPS costume. So she left a slip, my second notice, that said she’d come back… sometime. She checked off both “between 2 and 5 p.m.” and “after 5 p.m.” So then its Saturday and I’m canceling plans and distracted and leaving things early so that I can get home for the UPS gal.

My dissatisfaction with UPS, FedEx, and (as a latent socialist it kills me to add) USPS, contrasts sharply with the shining customer service of companies that have fully embraced technology and all its wonders. Take Netflix, for example. The company’s success hangs on customer satisfaction, and the Netflix folks develop, utilize, and constantly upgrade technologies that improve the customer experience. The dependent nature of the enterprise—that it has to rely on uncontrollable factors, such as (sigh) the postal service, the quality of the customer’s DVD player, the speed of her internet connection, and whether she’s familiar with the DVD-cleaning toothpaste trick—requires the implementation of quick surveys that address specific expectations and experiences (but not so often that they’re a nuisance), functional changes that prevent dissatisfaction and, when all else fails, a heartfelt apology.

Sure, they’re automated, canned apologies (even the compensatory credit seems to vary by customer, probably based on some formula that considers your subscription rate, your membership history, the length of your queue and maybe even the length of your list of Twitter followers), but who cares? The acknowledgement of the problem and the sense that we are receiving individual attention greases a lot of wheels. And the process doesn’t end there. The same automated system that sent the notes of apology sends feeback to Netflix about the problems and, I expect, ends in some rectification. A letter of apology to one customer makes one customer feel good and continue one subscription. But the real value is in making changes to prevent the need for letters of apology to millions of customers who were blissfully unaware of a problem in the first place.

But this isn’t about Netflix; it’s about UPS, FedEx, USPS, DHL, and the way my posture stiffens whenever I hear a truck idling in front of my building (though unfortunately, here in Brooklyn, it’s usually either FreshDirect or trucks slowing down to pass the clumsily double-parked FreshDirect truck). So what kind of feedback systems do the parcel delivery companies have? First, it’s a piece of paper that no one reads or can really understand. But don’t get me started on the visual design—this is so much bigger than a typographic makeover. As the vocal schizophrenic on my block who spends every day mumbling on his stoop often says, “it’s the system, man, the system.” He’s got a front-row view of the parcel delivery system, so if anyone recognizes there’s a problem, it’s that guy.

The technology is there—there are satellite maps and congestion patterns and traffic-light schedules and speed limits and gps and electronic signatures and mobiles and barcodes and even “package flow” software. But the symphony of all of this wonderful technology ends flat when a carrier arrives with a signature-required parcel at the locked door of an apartment building, and everyone’s at work. I love the innovative idea of making routes that incorporate only right-hand turns—it’s “green” in both ways that matter. But how much gas are you saving if, in the end, you have to deliver the same package three times? The problem is that these companies don’t view the recipient as worthy of pleasing, since it’s usually not the recipient that makes the choice of carrier. We’re more often passive receivers. When we do send packages, our carrier choice is based on factors other than quality—proximity to the drop-off location, cost, and perception of speed (not actual delivery success rates). And since I didn’t choose the carrier in the first place, I’m not going to call them up to complain. Instead, Apple’s feedback system shouldn’t end when the friendly Midwesterner takes your credit card’s 3-digit security code and says “is there anything else I can help you with today”, but should include “tell me where you’ll be on May 29th at 3:32p.m., and we’ll be sure to get this to you. Oh, and the packaging will be designed with a comfortable, ergonomic handle and retractable wheels.” After all, Apple has a bit more power to make changes in the delivery system than does Cheryl Berko-Who?.

But the next time I buy something from Apple, I’m going ride public transportation to the serenely designed store and I’m going to rub elbows with a genius and rearrange my Netflix queue with a gentle flick of my finger on the new iPhone. And my customer service experience will end in satisfaction. That is, until I head home and my bus gets stuck behind a double-parked delivery truck.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 1st, 2009 at 11:57 am . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

---

Leave a Reply

Name (required)

Mail (will not be published) (required)

Website