My New Year’s resolution for 1999 is a simple one: to simplify my life.
Toward that end, I decided to cancel the stack of long unused credit cards I had piled up in the bottom of my jewelry box. You’ve probably got a similar stash somewhere in your home-store cards from retailers you rarely frequent but accepted because they offered 10% off a day’s purchases, bank cards you took for no other reason than they were offered.
The numerous rounds of phone calls to cancel my accounts gave me a chance to climb a whole lot of phone trees and see how high (and low) banks and retailers are scoring on the telephone customer service scale.
Let’s start with the stores first, shall we? The first call was short and sweet. The phone options were simple and I quickly found out the card had long been closed due to inactivity.
The next retailer made me feel like a rat in a maze. I dialed the 800 number on the card, expecting a menu that would soon direct me to my goal. Instead, I was offered the chance to hear about stores, insurance, catalogs, theme parks (the rat metaphor is very appropriate here, if you haven’t guessed who this rodent of a retailer is) and Michael Eisner only knows what else (I think I blacked out somewhere after “mambo lessons with Winnie-the-Pooh”). Finally, I was directed to a “guest services associate” who informed me because the card hadn’t been used I had been “purged from the database.” (That doesn’t sound very magical, does it?)
The next two retailer/catalogers’ systems were quick, polite and efficient-both inquired why I was closing my account and told me a letter would soon be on its way confirming the deactivation. I’d definitely patronize both again based on this experience, albeit not with their branded cards.
I listened to the next retailer’s phone menu for a full two minutes without hearing any option remotely close to my needs, let alone getting the chance to talk to a live human being. In desperation, I hit “0,” only to be informed I had entered an incorrect option. I was then disconnected. Undaunted, I redialed the 800 number and listened, and listened, finally choosing an option that directed me to another option allowing me to cancel my account.
The next two department stores-both owned by the same corporation-were the only ones that made my job easy by actually having an phone option for closing an account. One might argue that this is one thing you don’t want to make simple for your customers. I disagree. Remember the cliche, “If you love someone, set them free”? Allow customers to do things their way, and they’ll come back.
Curiously, both stores instructed users to enter “digits one at a time” when keying in their credit card numbers. Are there people actually trying to enter all their numbers at once? Guess they got impatient after wading through all those phone menus.
Our final retail contestant of the day instructed me to “press one now for fast and convenient service.” (It didn’t say what to hit if I wanted slow and inefficient service.) The recorded voice also informed me that when I connected with a live rep my call might be monitored, but if I didn’t want it monitored I could tell the rep. Nice touch in these privacy-conscious times.
The banks, for the most part, put up more of a fight. The beau and I chose to cancel Bank A’s card because we had another joint card we were getting more benefits from. When I explained my intentions to the first human I was connected to, I was quickly referred to another “customer care” representative who kept asking me over and over why I was canceling my account, while offering no reasons why I should keep it. After repeating over and over that (a) I had no intention of keeping the card and (b) we hadn’t used the account in seven months, so it wasn’t like they were losing a heck of a lot of business, she finally acquiesced and did the deed.
Bank B kept me on hold for four minutes while I waited to be connected to a rep in the department that could facilitate my request. The rep was very friendly and asked if I might tell him why I was closing my account, as they valued my business. Simple, I said. I had too many cards and decided to cancel this one, as its limit was the lowest of all my bank cards. If it was increased, would I consider staying on with the bank? Sure. Within 48 hours, it had the highest limit of the cards I kept.
Because I kept that card, it meant I would cancel my account with Bank C, which now had the lowest limit. I wondered if they’d try as eagerly as Bank B to keep my business. Bank C kept me on the line waiting for a rep for two minutes, when it informed me because of high call volume the wait time would be greater than four minutes. I waited it out (seven minutes total) and the rep said she’d process my request, but didn’t have the authority to make sure a letter would be sent confirming the cancellation. The marketing department does that, but they weren’t accepting calls because they were too busy. They might call me, she said, to discuss the request; 24 hours later, I haven’t heard a thing. Makes me glad I decided to stay with Bank B.
What have we learned, telefriends? Prune your phone trees-and take your calls.
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