10 Aug 06
I called India last week because my broadband was faulty. Outsourcing customer service functions isn't new, but the concept is still fundamentally flawed.
After I'd spent twenty minutes in a queue, I explained what was wrong to the operator.
'I will do a line check. While we wait, can I ask how the weather is in the UK?'
This was clearly from the part of the script under the heading How to Engage in Polite Chit-chat with a Typical British Person.
'I have the results of your line test. There is a problem on your line.'
'Yes, I know that. That's why I called,' I said, getting increasingly exasperated.
'One of my colleagues will telephone you after 6pm to arrange for an engineer to come and visit you. Thank you for your call.'
Needless to say, the no-one ever did call and my broadband is still knackered.
BT has around 17M unlucky customers in a country whose entire population amounts to less than 60M. It's therefore not surprising that the problems of a humble hack are an irrelevance and that I should be treated with disdain. I only pay about £30 a month for my connection, so the loss of my custom will matter not a jot.
Too often the same attitudes are reflected in the car world, where the sums involved are anything but trivial. Manufacturers tend to underestimate the human element. It matters little that the car is capable of all manner of technological wizardry if the customers aren't looked after.
