Long-distance communication is hard.
Love triangulation is even worse.
A few weeks ago my bank called.
Well, not really my bank.
They wanted my feedback.
Well, not really my feedback.
At a time that suited me.
Well not really …
Get the idea?
Here’s what really happened.
My phone did ring: that much is true.
But instead of my bank, it was an agency contracted to call me on their behalf.
They’d been told to get my views on service quality.
I said I was keen to participate, as there were some issues that had been bugging me for years.
Like why statements never start at the start of each month and end at the end.
The agency girl said she wasn’t able to take that sort of feedback; she only had a set survey.
She asked if I wanted to do it.
I said yes, but that it wasn’t convenient just then.
She asked when it would be convenient.
I said in three days.
She said the survey would be over by then.
So we parted.
Thanks to this exercise, I’m not just a statistical anomaly, I’m an insignificant datum.
In fact, as far as my bank’s concerned, I don’t even exist.
The agency report won’t contain my non-standard feedback.
Rather, it’ll comprise responses from customers who:
- Have nothing better to do at 3 pm on a Thursday.
- Are happy to confine their views to A, B, C, D and 1 to 5.
- Don’t mind dealing with someone pretending to be their bank.
I could be wrong, but I strongly suspect this service quality report is going to look quite good.
Management will have the hard data they need to confidently command Full Steam Ahead and More of The Same.
Meanwhile, back on earth, I’ve just been reminded of all the things I hate about my bank.
Maybe it’s time we went our separate ways.
Let’s check the facts:
- A closed-question survey.
- Run by a stranger.
- That ends before I can begin.
Would you feel the love in this arm’s-length affair?