	Bob Hostetler > Writing

Customer Service…Please Hold

by Bob Hostetler

It started when I had to call a few credit card companies to close inactive accounts that still appeared on my credit report, though they hadn’t been used for years. Thus did I enter the ninth circle of Hell.

Back in the day, “customer service” meant what it sounds like: the customer was served. His or her needs were considered. Unnecessary inconvenience was avoided. Rude behavior was forbidden. Not so much anymore.

Nowadays, when you or I call a company—a credit card company, for example—we can expect to be subjected to layer after layer of recordings, menu choices, and prompted responses. These phone menus are not a service to the customer. They are decidedly inconvenient and usually unresponsive to any but the most general needs. And I consider them rude.

When phone service menus were first introduced, it was possible to reach a real, live person by pressing “0” as soon as the recording began. Not so much anymore. More often than not, pressing “0” will send you to the back of the line or prompt a polite, “That is not a valid choice. Please listen closely to your options, because our menu has changed.” Only in the ninth level of Hell should that be considered acceptable “customer service.”

Soon after my long afternoon of calling credit card companies (actually, I don’t think I called any credit card companies; I think I spoke to companies that provide a service to credit card companies—which is another rant entirely), I had occasion to call the local U-Haul office, on Rt. 4 in Hamilton. In this case, I reached a real, live person—who immediately asked if I would hold. Silly me, I said yes (I don’t think he waited for my answer, though, so it might not have mattered). I finally hung up after spending fifteen minutes on hold. Never did get any “customer service.”

Next came a phone call to Sallie Mae, the gigantic lender and consolidator of funds for college. The recording instructed me to select “one” if I was a present customer; I did. I was then told to dial my nine-digit account number, which I did. Then, presented with another menu of options, I decided to try a shortcut: dialing “0” in the hope that I might reach a human being. No dice; that was not a “valid option.” I never did reach a real person, though I did get my question answered by a recorded voice after a mere four minutes of effort.

I started to wonder: which companies and agencies actually provide me with the kind of service I crave, actually answering the phone when I call? And how much of my time do I spend navigating a so-called “customer service” phone queue because that’s more convenient and economical for the company (which, okay sure, may ultimately benefit me by keeping prices down)?

So I started keeping track. Hamilton’s Lane Library subjected me to a thirty-five second recording, offering eight menu choices (twice instructing me to dial “6” in order to learn the library’s hours). Pressing “0” in the midst of the choices returned me to the beginning of the recording, until it got to the very end, when I was told to dial “0” or “stay on the line,” and someone would assist me momentarily. Gee, thanks.

Next came the city of Hamilton. I called the number for the mayor’s/city clerk’s office, and reached a forty-second recording with ten menu options, the last of which was to press “0” or remain on the line and someone would be with me momentarily. Pressing “0,” however, resulted in a voicemail recording (after 5 rings) telling me that this mailbox was full, and giving me a few more choices if I were really serious about reaching someone.

But the results were not all frustrating. A real, live, person answered the phone for the Butler County commissioners’ office. Likewise when I called Butler Rural Electric Cooperative, I reached a human being—and she was cheerful and courteous! I achieved the same results at Southwest Regional Water District, First Financial Bank, and Fort Hamilton-Hughes Hospital. All real people on the other end, and all of them answered on the first couple rings. The offices of allergist Dr. Leipzig and optometrist Dr. Moorehead: real person. Bob Evans restaurant: real person. LaRosa’s: recorded menu. Applebee’s: real person.

Now, I know, this is by no means a scientific survey. And I know there are sometimes good reasons to employ automated menu systems. And keeping track of such things probably won’t get me anywhere. But if nothing else, it makes me appreciate even more the service of those institutions that manage to navigate this high-tech world in a personal-touch way.

Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure: the Hamilton Journal-News also answered my call with a real person, courteously asking, “How may I direct your call?” That’s what I call customer service.

This article appeared in the October 11, 2006, edition of the Hamilton Journal-News.

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