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How often have you had an experience as a customer that was SO awful your immediate reaction is “I have to write them a letter!”?
Last week I had, hands-down, the worst experience I’ve ever had with air travel. My husband, two daughters, and I were coming back to New York from San Diego. Without getting into too much detail, our debacle started with our 6:00 a.m. Delta flight being overbooked (a business practice I begrudgingly understand). An abrasive, chip-on-his-shoulder gate agent apathetically “tried” to get us seats on the flight. When he finally did, he wouldn’t print them, because my husband (who had returned the rental car and was behind us in security) was not with us and, “how did we even know he would show up at all?”—a comment that the implications of which did not escape my 4 year-old daughter.
After not getting on our flight, the same agent made a meager effort to rebook us—at best we would arrive 48 hours later having traveled through who-knows-how-many cities to get home. We ended up purchasing full-fare tickets on Continental and eventually arrived only 12 hours later than expected. Of course, our luggage did make it on our original flight, but since we took a different airline home, Delta was in no rush to get it to us. Another 24 hours, 14 phone calls and $33 later we had our bags. Which, of course, we paid $60 to check in the first place.
So the first thing I did was sit down to write The Letter. I haven’t gotten very far. Even as I sit and write this, I am procrastinating on The Letter. It’s not easy to take all your passionate anger and put it succinctly on one page.
Instead, I started thinking about a major difference between big and small businesses. Anonymity vs. Accountability. I could write “to whom it may concern,” but have no guarantee that it actually concerns anybody. I will send it off to Delta’s “Customer Care Center”, but the sheer fact that they have people whose specific job it is to sort through these letters somehow makes my letter already feel less important.
On the other hand, when one of my customers has a complaint, whether by phone, email or in-person, it comes straight to me. Sometimes it stems from a one-time mistake, and I am grateful to hear about it so we can prevent it from happening again. Sometimes we get feedback that results in us tweaking a product or service for the benefit of all future customers. Sometimes people complain just because they are complainers. Occasionally, it’s a scam—someone looking for a freebie.
About a year ago, we got an email from a man who said he had been visiting New York and loved our cookies. He wanted to bring some chocolate peanut butter cookies home to his mother, but when he arrived at her house he saw that they were chocolate caramel, which she could not eat with her dentures. Could we please ship the proper cookies to the following address in Las Vegas? I was upset about the mistake and apologized, asking for a few more details to identify how to fix it. I didn’t hear back.
Six months later, we received another email from a man saying how much he enjoyed visiting our store on his last business trip. His fiancée is a huge fan of our chocolate caramel cookies, and he bought some to bring home to her, but when he arrived home he realized they were the wrong cookies. Could we please ship the proper cookies to the following address in Las Vegas? I couldn’t believe I wasted time worrying about this scammer. Now all emails go through my manager before they get to me.
I wonder if I will reach a point where I’m totally jaded by these scams and the people who complain for the sake of complaining? Right now I subscribe to the philosophy of Danny Meyer at Union Square Hospitality Group: “the customer may not always be right, but he or she should always be heard.” At some point, do you no longer have the time to “hear” your customers? Or maybe there are just too many layers for the customer to get through to be heard?
As someone with a legitimate complaint, it makes me feels disheartened. When push comes to shove, how much power does The Letter really have? What do I want my letter to Delta to accomplish? Reimbursement? I seriously doubt they will send us a check that covers our incremental cost, and a few crappy travel vouchers are no good if I’m never going to fly Delta again. Retribution? Yes, that would be nice, but doubtful. Therapy? I have a blog for that.
Who knows if The Letter will actually get written? I’m sure I’m not alone in this boat—all fired up and then drained of all effort when it actually comes down to it. It’s a lot easier to just complain to my family and friends and tell them to never fly Delta again. I recounted our story to my mother, and she shook her head the whole time. When I finished, she sighed, “you know, you should write them a letter.”
Last week I had, hands-down, the worst experience I’ve ever had with air travel. My husband, two daughters, and I were coming back to New York from San Diego. Without getting into too much detail, our debacle started with our 6:00 a.m. Delta flight being overbooked (a business practice I begrudgingly understand). An abrasive, chip-on-his-shoulder gate agent apathetically “tried” to get us seats on the flight. When he finally did, he wouldn’t print them, because my husband (who had returned the rental car and was behind us in security) was not with us and, “how did we even know he would show up at all?”—a comment that the implications of which did not escape my 4 year-old daughter.
After not getting on our flight, the same agent made a meager effort to rebook us—at best we would arrive 48 hours later having traveled through who-knows-how-many cities to get home. We ended up purchasing full-fare tickets on Continental and eventually arrived only 12 hours later than expected. Of course, our luggage did make it on our original flight, but since we took a different airline home, Delta was in no rush to get it to us. Another 24 hours, 14 phone calls and $33 later we had our bags. Which, of course, we paid $60 to check in the first place.
So the first thing I did was sit down to write The Letter. I haven’t gotten very far. Even as I sit and write this, I am procrastinating on The Letter. It’s not easy to take all your passionate anger and put it succinctly on one page.
Instead, I started thinking about a major difference between big and small businesses. Anonymity vs. Accountability. I could write “to whom it may concern,” but have no guarantee that it actually concerns anybody. I will send it off to Delta’s “Customer Care Center”, but the sheer fact that they have people whose specific job it is to sort through these letters somehow makes my letter already feel less important.
On the other hand, when one of my customers has a complaint, whether by phone, email or in-person, it comes straight to me. Sometimes it stems from a one-time mistake, and I am grateful to hear about it so we can prevent it from happening again. Sometimes we get feedback that results in us tweaking a product or service for the benefit of all future customers. Sometimes people complain just because they are complainers. Occasionally, it’s a scam—someone looking for a freebie.
About a year ago, we got an email from a man who said he had been visiting New York and loved our cookies. He wanted to bring some chocolate peanut butter cookies home to his mother, but when he arrived at her house he saw that they were chocolate caramel, which she could not eat with her dentures. Could we please ship the proper cookies to the following address in Las Vegas? I was upset about the mistake and apologized, asking for a few more details to identify how to fix it. I didn’t hear back.
Six months later, we received another email from a man saying how much he enjoyed visiting our store on his last business trip. His fiancée is a huge fan of our chocolate caramel cookies, and he bought some to bring home to her, but when he arrived home he realized they were the wrong cookies. Could we please ship the proper cookies to the following address in Las Vegas? I couldn’t believe I wasted time worrying about this scammer. Now all emails go through my manager before they get to me.
I wonder if I will reach a point where I’m totally jaded by these scams and the people who complain for the sake of complaining? Right now I subscribe to the philosophy of Danny Meyer at Union Square Hospitality Group: “the customer may not always be right, but he or she should always be heard.” At some point, do you no longer have the time to “hear” your customers? Or maybe there are just too many layers for the customer to get through to be heard?
As someone with a legitimate complaint, it makes me feels disheartened. When push comes to shove, how much power does The Letter really have? What do I want my letter to Delta to accomplish? Reimbursement? I seriously doubt they will send us a check that covers our incremental cost, and a few crappy travel vouchers are no good if I’m never going to fly Delta again. Retribution? Yes, that would be nice, but doubtful. Therapy? I have a blog for that.
Who knows if The Letter will actually get written? I’m sure I’m not alone in this boat—all fired up and then drained of all effort when it actually comes down to it. It’s a lot easier to just complain to my family and friends and tell them to never fly Delta again. I recounted our story to my mother, and she shook her head the whole time. When I finished, she sighed, “you know, you should write them a letter.”
posted by Rachel @ 11:49 AM 0 Comments 
Earlier this week, I was surfing through my Facebook friends’ status updates, and I noticed a former classmate had attended our high school’s career day. She mentioned that it had quickly spiraled into an intense debate as to whether or not one can “have it all.”
By way of background, I went to a stereotypical, ultra-competitive, over-achieving private all-girls school in Washington, D.C. At the age of nine, we were taught that we can and should be anything we want to be. Because it was an all-girls school, it was all girls who were the star athletes, valedictorians, student government leaders, yearbook and newspaper editors. We had an annual “Women in Power” day. In short, we were taught that with the right combination of hard work, social responsibility and, of course, good grades, there was no reason we couldn’t have it all.
No one ever told us that we were chasing an impossible dream. Having it all is an illusion. Life is all about making choices—sacrifices—leaving roads untaken, and anyone who says you “have it all” demeans the sacrifices you’ve made in life. But many women are too caught up in envying the greener grass and don’t take the time to appreciate the decisions they’ve made for themselves.
Some women spend so much time focusing on their career they may miss out on marriage, kids, or just raising their own kids. Other women step off their career path to have kids, and when they go back to work their jobs often take second fiddle when it comes to child-rearing responsibilities. Then, of course, many women choose child-rearing as their career, but sometimes complain of boredom or worry about their lack of economic independence.
All women envy each other at times and typically focus on the missed opportunities in life. Many drive home the impossibility of “having it all,” or if a woman claims to have it all she is resented by peers. The high school seniors at our school hear this debate and sit slack-jawed as all the hope is drained from their little feminist minds.
This made me rethink my opinion on believing I can never “have it all,” I would never complain about the path I have taken in life. So I took stock in what I do have.
I have two beautiful, smart daughters who are blessed with a late-sleeper gene. I have a husband who’s willing to change diapers, bring me dinner at work late at night, and be an endless source for blog fodder. He has yet to don a fudgy brownie suit to hand out Tribeca Treats postcards or become a Redskins fan. But that’s neither here nor there.
I have two parents, three sisters, a huge extended family and great friends, all of whom have helped me follow my dream. I get to make cakes for a living, and I have a business that’s showing early signs of success.
I have a wonderful dentist (Dr. Saul Pressner) and amazing movers (Personal Touch Movers). Don’t underestimate the value in this.
Of course I don’t have it all. Among other things, I don’t have a lot of sleep; I rarely have time for myself; I could use more vacation time, or at least work-free vacation time. When I’m at work, I miss doing things with my daughters. When I’m with my daughters, I’m often worrying about work. I could have better hair. Or a favorite football team that’s won a Superbowl in the last 17 years.
But I am content. No, not content—content implies that you are not going to continue to strive for things, and I have plenty to still strive for, but I never look longingly at another’s life. Sure, I would love to be able to take spontaneous trips to Morocco and have a personal trainer that comes to my home or a closet full of Christian Louboutins, but I am surrounded by the rewards (and, of course, challenges) of the choices I have made, and this makes me happy. I chose to have kids; I chose to start my own business. I may not have control of the Redskins’ win-loss record, but I do choose to put on my burgundy and gold jersey year after year.
Looking at it that way, I realize I am lucky to have one of the most important things in life--opportunity. It may be impossible to have it all, but as long as I have the ability and means to make my own choices? Then I have enough.
By way of background, I went to a stereotypical, ultra-competitive, over-achieving private all-girls school in Washington, D.C. At the age of nine, we were taught that we can and should be anything we want to be. Because it was an all-girls school, it was all girls who were the star athletes, valedictorians, student government leaders, yearbook and newspaper editors. We had an annual “Women in Power” day. In short, we were taught that with the right combination of hard work, social responsibility and, of course, good grades, there was no reason we couldn’t have it all.
No one ever told us that we were chasing an impossible dream. Having it all is an illusion. Life is all about making choices—sacrifices—leaving roads untaken, and anyone who says you “have it all” demeans the sacrifices you’ve made in life. But many women are too caught up in envying the greener grass and don’t take the time to appreciate the decisions they’ve made for themselves.
Some women spend so much time focusing on their career they may miss out on marriage, kids, or just raising their own kids. Other women step off their career path to have kids, and when they go back to work their jobs often take second fiddle when it comes to child-rearing responsibilities. Then, of course, many women choose child-rearing as their career, but sometimes complain of boredom or worry about their lack of economic independence.
All women envy each other at times and typically focus on the missed opportunities in life. Many drive home the impossibility of “having it all,” or if a woman claims to have it all she is resented by peers. The high school seniors at our school hear this debate and sit slack-jawed as all the hope is drained from their little feminist minds.
This made me rethink my opinion on believing I can never “have it all,” I would never complain about the path I have taken in life. So I took stock in what I do have.
I have two beautiful, smart daughters who are blessed with a late-sleeper gene. I have a husband who’s willing to change diapers, bring me dinner at work late at night, and be an endless source for blog fodder. He has yet to don a fudgy brownie suit to hand out Tribeca Treats postcards or become a Redskins fan. But that’s neither here nor there.
I have two parents, three sisters, a huge extended family and great friends, all of whom have helped me follow my dream. I get to make cakes for a living, and I have a business that’s showing early signs of success.
I have a wonderful dentist (Dr. Saul Pressner) and amazing movers (Personal Touch Movers). Don’t underestimate the value in this.
Of course I don’t have it all. Among other things, I don’t have a lot of sleep; I rarely have time for myself; I could use more vacation time, or at least work-free vacation time. When I’m at work, I miss doing things with my daughters. When I’m with my daughters, I’m often worrying about work. I could have better hair. Or a favorite football team that’s won a Superbowl in the last 17 years.
But I am content. No, not content—content implies that you are not going to continue to strive for things, and I have plenty to still strive for, but I never look longingly at another’s life. Sure, I would love to be able to take spontaneous trips to Morocco and have a personal trainer that comes to my home or a closet full of Christian Louboutins, but I am surrounded by the rewards (and, of course, challenges) of the choices I have made, and this makes me happy. I chose to have kids; I chose to start my own business. I may not have control of the Redskins’ win-loss record, but I do choose to put on my burgundy and gold jersey year after year.
Looking at it that way, I realize I am lucky to have one of the most important things in life--opportunity. It may be impossible to have it all, but as long as I have the ability and means to make my own choices? Then I have enough.
posted by Rachel @ 2:06 PM 0 Comments
To me, Disneyworld is like giving birth. It's a really painful experience, but you have to do it once for your kids. I went last weekend and realized, though, it has a lot in common with one of my favorite places to visit--Las Vegas. There's the obvious--two destinations based on unadulterated entertainment of tourists, with themed hotels, people in costume, and wildlife roaming out of their natural habitat. But from a business perspective, I also noticed some interesting marketing commonalities:
Fantasy Exploitation - The Bippety Boppity Boutique is a new addition to Disneyworld (since I was last there 20 years ago). Just like Cinderella's fairy godmother, they take little girls who dream of being princesses and transform them with shiny costumes, hair extensions, hair spray and glittery makeup. Other little girls see these princesses and want the same look for themselves. The next thing you know, these little princesses are everywhere you look. The thing is, it's not hard to picture them in 10-15 years with the same shiny costumes, hair extensions, hair spray and glittery makeup, only as cocktail waitresses and showgirls in Vegas. And then it's their dreams of being an actress, singer or model that are being exploited and used to exploit men who have entirely different fantasies on their mind. It's disgusting, but it works.
Shameless "Exit Strategy" - It's a well-known fact that the interiors of casinos are designed to make it as difficult as possible to leave. There are no clocks or windows, so you have no idea how long you've been at that craps table. The elevators are way in the back, so you pass black jack tables begging you "just one hand!" before you can get to your room. The décor is busy and the paths to outside are indirect, making it easy to get distracted by clanging slot machines and spinning roulette wheels. Similarly, you get off a ride at Disney, you’re a little disoriented, and they deposit you SMACK DAB in the middle of a gift shop! There are rainbow colored lollipops, cherry shoelaces and Mickey Mouse t-shirts everywhere you look. And the light outside is so blinding, you have no choice but to bounce around from tchotchke carousel to tchotchke carousel like a pinball until you get your bearings. Maddening, but genius.
America's Playground - Everyone from Santonio Holmes to Bobby Jindal comes to Disneyworld to play. Even my 25 year old sister drank the Kool Aid. "Isn't Disneyworld the happiest place on earth?!" she squealed. No. No, it's not! It's either too hot or too cold. It's miserable in the rain. The lines are long. The kids are throwing tantrums. But try telling that to the grown woman who waits in line to meet Cinderella, giggling with excitement when it's finally her turn. (Really, I saw this happen.) It's the same thing with Vegas--people go to drown their worries in all-you-can-eat buffets and hopes of winning enough money to pay off their mortgage. That woman in line for Cinderella? I'm SURE I've seen her parked in front of the Merlin slot machine at Excaliber, dumping in quarter after quarter. The guy with the short shorts and black socks in line for Space Mountain? He and his friends were definitely up all night in the Texas Hold 'Em room at Mandalay Bay. They are like kids let out for recess. When they return home, it doesn't matter how much money they wasted. They think about how happy they felt for a week or a weekend and start dreaming about a return trip.
So, between Vegas and Disney, which employs these strategies more successfully? Well, my gut wants to root for Vegas, because I actually like going there. In the dozen or more times that I've been, I've paid more than I expected for a hotel room and enjoyed some over-priced, but remarkably good meals. I've probably won as much as I've lost, so the casinos are break-even with my gaming money. Disneyworld, on the other hand, has way overpriced hotels and glorified cafeteria food, and I am highly reluctant to go back.
But here's why Disneyworld wins: Their money is not made on the admissions ticket sales, it's in all the residual branded souvenirs. I am a cynical, Scrooge McDuck mom, who does not have a hard time saying “no” to her daughter. Furthermore, we are a family of four in a two-bedroom apartment, with very limited space for useless crap. I am not totally evil, though, so I had planned to allow my daughter two or three souvenirs. Following is an inventory of what we returned with:
--one pair of Minnie Mouse flip flops (that my daughter can't even walk in)
--one glittery purple mouse "antennae" headband (I think I had one in the 80's too)
--silver sequin mouse ears
--pink sequin princess shoes (are you sensing a theme?)
--Tinkerbell coloring book
--Princess coloring book
--Tinkerbell twist crayons (of course, to go with the coloring books)
--Dr. Seuss book on insects (educational, right?)
--a princess baby sunhat
--a generic Mickey hat/t-shirt combo
--an adult Mickey Mouse sweatshirt (alright, it was colder than I expected!)
--a tie-dyed princess hoodie
--a princess baseball hat (which was signed by all the princesses, so this is the only real keeper)
How did that happen?? It’s like I was roofied by Mickey Mouse. After all that, can you imagine the merchandise an actual fan might walk away with??? THAT is the real magic of Disney.
Fantasy Exploitation - The Bippety Boppity Boutique is a new addition to Disneyworld (since I was last there 20 years ago). Just like Cinderella's fairy godmother, they take little girls who dream of being princesses and transform them with shiny costumes, hair extensions, hair spray and glittery makeup. Other little girls see these princesses and want the same look for themselves. The next thing you know, these little princesses are everywhere you look. The thing is, it's not hard to picture them in 10-15 years with the same shiny costumes, hair extensions, hair spray and glittery makeup, only as cocktail waitresses and showgirls in Vegas. And then it's their dreams of being an actress, singer or model that are being exploited and used to exploit men who have entirely different fantasies on their mind. It's disgusting, but it works.
Shameless "Exit Strategy" - It's a well-known fact that the interiors of casinos are designed to make it as difficult as possible to leave. There are no clocks or windows, so you have no idea how long you've been at that craps table. The elevators are way in the back, so you pass black jack tables begging you "just one hand!" before you can get to your room. The décor is busy and the paths to outside are indirect, making it easy to get distracted by clanging slot machines and spinning roulette wheels. Similarly, you get off a ride at Disney, you’re a little disoriented, and they deposit you SMACK DAB in the middle of a gift shop! There are rainbow colored lollipops, cherry shoelaces and Mickey Mouse t-shirts everywhere you look. And the light outside is so blinding, you have no choice but to bounce around from tchotchke carousel to tchotchke carousel like a pinball until you get your bearings. Maddening, but genius.
America's Playground - Everyone from Santonio Holmes to Bobby Jindal comes to Disneyworld to play. Even my 25 year old sister drank the Kool Aid. "Isn't Disneyworld the happiest place on earth?!" she squealed. No. No, it's not! It's either too hot or too cold. It's miserable in the rain. The lines are long. The kids are throwing tantrums. But try telling that to the grown woman who waits in line to meet Cinderella, giggling with excitement when it's finally her turn. (Really, I saw this happen.) It's the same thing with Vegas--people go to drown their worries in all-you-can-eat buffets and hopes of winning enough money to pay off their mortgage. That woman in line for Cinderella? I'm SURE I've seen her parked in front of the Merlin slot machine at Excaliber, dumping in quarter after quarter. The guy with the short shorts and black socks in line for Space Mountain? He and his friends were definitely up all night in the Texas Hold 'Em room at Mandalay Bay. They are like kids let out for recess. When they return home, it doesn't matter how much money they wasted. They think about how happy they felt for a week or a weekend and start dreaming about a return trip.
So, between Vegas and Disney, which employs these strategies more successfully? Well, my gut wants to root for Vegas, because I actually like going there. In the dozen or more times that I've been, I've paid more than I expected for a hotel room and enjoyed some over-priced, but remarkably good meals. I've probably won as much as I've lost, so the casinos are break-even with my gaming money. Disneyworld, on the other hand, has way overpriced hotels and glorified cafeteria food, and I am highly reluctant to go back.
But here's why Disneyworld wins: Their money is not made on the admissions ticket sales, it's in all the residual branded souvenirs. I am a cynical, Scrooge McDuck mom, who does not have a hard time saying “no” to her daughter. Furthermore, we are a family of four in a two-bedroom apartment, with very limited space for useless crap. I am not totally evil, though, so I had planned to allow my daughter two or three souvenirs. Following is an inventory of what we returned with:
--one pair of Minnie Mouse flip flops (that my daughter can't even walk in)
--one glittery purple mouse "antennae" headband (I think I had one in the 80's too)
--silver sequin mouse ears
--pink sequin princess shoes (are you sensing a theme?)
--Tinkerbell coloring book
--Princess coloring book
--Tinkerbell twist crayons (of course, to go with the coloring books)
--Dr. Seuss book on insects (educational, right?)
--a princess baby sunhat
--a generic Mickey hat/t-shirt combo
--an adult Mickey Mouse sweatshirt (alright, it was colder than I expected!)
--a tie-dyed princess hoodie
--a princess baseball hat (which was signed by all the princesses, so this is the only real keeper)
How did that happen?? It’s like I was roofied by Mickey Mouse. After all that, can you imagine the merchandise an actual fan might walk away with??? THAT is the real magic of Disney.
posted by Rachel @ 6:17 PM 0 Comments
