Cracker: Every Time A Coconut
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One day I was just sitting there thinking about how it would be nice to go to Timaru for the weekend, coz I've never been there.
Imagine my surprise when Air New Zealand rang and offered me not only a free return flight, but also a cab ride to the airport and free accomodation in Timaru's fines guest house. Needless to say I agreed. Unfortunately I'd missed the last flight that day, but Air NZ were able to redirect a spare plane to Wellington and after a comfortable ride in their courtesy Mercedes Maybach limo, I was onboard a flight to Timaru.
Now I'd forgotten to email my friends in the South Island to tell them of this treat, but a quick call to Vodafone fixed that. The customer service person ran from her office to the airport and was able to drop me off a Vodem with free access in time for me to catch my flight and still stay in touch. Being in when I'm out indeed! AirNZ were nice enough to waive their usual rule about not using mobile equipment on the plane (after all I was the sole passenger and we were only flying over Canterbury!).
With all that running about I was a bit peckish. Fortunately, my mate Jamie Oliver 'appened to be in town and was prevailed upon by his publisher, Penguin Books, to run to the airport and rustle up a bit of the old eggs Benedict, with free range quails eggs and elephant parmesan. That certainly hit the spot.
I believe that beer isn't usually laid on on Air NZ domestic, but today Monteiths had excelled themselves with a couple of cases of their excellent New Zealand Lager to quaff with the quails eggs. It's certainly an excellent take on an old NZ tradition, and far nicer than the Ranfurly I'm more used to.
Now it can get a bit cold in Timaru, and in the rush from the airport I'd forgotten my socks, but the wonderful Holeproof company had come to the rescue and delivered a few pairs of their excellent footwear.
I feel this was some of the most excellent customer service I've encountered, and rounded off a day that one could only describe as Starckish.
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Smart arse.
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OK, I'll play! I have been taking my car to the same garage, Armagh Automotive in CHCH, for several years. It used to be because it was close to work, but now I don't work near there. I still keep going back there though, and this is why:
One day, early in spring, I turned on the A/C in my dodgy little hatchback, and promptly blew a fuse. I happened to be driving past the garage not long after, so I called in and explained what had happened. They whacked in a new fuse and off I went.
Unfortunately, I didn't test the A/C again until after I left, and whaddaya know, the fuse blew again. I rang the garage, they said to drop the car in next day and they would sort it out - obviously the problem was a bit bigger than just a fuse.
So I dropped the car into the garage and left it with them for the day, all the time thinking "what the hell is wrong with my car and how much is this going to cost?". Imagine my surprise, then,when I rolled up after work to be told "all fixed, no charge".
I had the cam belt on the aforementioned dodgy hatchback replaced about 3 months previously. As it turns out, they found the problem was that the air con pump (which had to be moved to allow access to the cam belt) hadn't been reattached correctly, and one of the wires was arcing against the wheel-arch.
I thought this was fantastic - they could (and Im sure some mechanics would) have made up any old reason for the problem, charged me 2 hours labour and I'd have been none the wiser. There's no way I'd have thought to connect my current problem with a cam belt service 3 months previously. Integrity is the things that you do when you think no-one can see you, and the fact that they chose to be completely transparent with me about what was wrong with my car keeps me going back there. I can be confident that if they tell me there's work required on my car, then there genuinely is! Well done to the chaps at Armagh Automotive (cnr Armagh & Barbadoes Sts, ph 366 0823), appreciate your ongoing fantastic service!
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I don't know who it was that said "kindness is its own reward", but they were just being a tight-arse. Actually, it sounds like the sort of thing my father would say, along with some other rubbish about how "every day is Kids' Day" when we'd ask about Mother's or Father's Day.
Excuse the diversion from your worthy competition, but either we have the same dad, or your is a long-lost twin brother of mine....
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Yawn, you say
I expect that's because you've stopped drinking.
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My sister had some time off work she needed to take, so I told her that if we could find a holiday for under a grand, I'd go with her. I should point out that I was just about to plunge into one of the deeper crevasses of depression that I've had in recent years, but somehow we managed to see that House of Travel had specials to Samoa, and neither of us had ever been, so I checked flights and accommodation online. I specifically requested when I emailed a travel agent that we stay in Coconuts Resort, because their cheapest garden rooms had a seperate lounge with sleepable couch and bedroom, and my sister and I are both snorers and I get as cranky as anything if I can't have a few err personal minutes every night.
So the travel agent gave us a quote and while it was way over the original grand, it did include the meal plan ($75 for breakfast, lunch w open bar and 3 course dinner with open bar) and we even had some back'in forth because flight times changed and there were discrepancies with how many days we'd have at the resort and therefore how much meal plan we'd need. But my sister turned out to be much better at doing maths than both me and the travel agent, and we thought we were all set,having paid for half the trip. And oh boy were we excited!
Then I got an email from the travel agent saying that our accomodation wasn't actually confirmed, the rooms we wanted weren't available and we had two options -- either pay an additional $400 each to go stay at the nearby resort - in a one room space, or pay $1500 to upgrade to the villas at Coconuts Luckily those emails came through on a Tuesday night, so I was drunk and full of arrogance based on winning at Quiz Night. I wrote back saying that was totally unacceptable, that we'd been given no indication at any time that our rooms wouldn't be available that we'd already paid for the meal plan and that they'd just have to find a better solution for us. It was a very forthright email, not offensively so but I am still in awe that we wrote it. End result? The travel agent apologised, and we ended up staying - at their additional expense in an over-water fale and a Royal Villa. It was the BEST HOLIDAY EVER. and we just regret that the staff tip box was locked away when we left in the morning because we had a lot of tale we wanted to slip in.
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Wow Damian, you really seem to be able to kill a good time...guess it's the not drinking thing.
Way to go Rich!(Are you a ginge like Hadyn too?) I was totally thinking of doing the same thing...'cept mine would have been funnier and true.
Anyway it's cold out and I was enjoying the thought process so much...
I now reside in the UK. Not really by choice, nor by extradition, but sort of because the missus hadn't done her OE. So currently I'm on OE2.0. Anyway they really don't know the meaning of good customer service in this country, particularly East London where we reside. Some of the stuff we see going on is so messed up, you just have to laugh, or drink...most people tend to drink, but I store it away for later....and amuse myself & perhaps others with stories about it down the line.
Anyway sometimes I miss my old job at Voafone. I'm sure they miss me disrupting their plans & meetings and I'm sure they are a hell of a lot more productive without me keeping them on the straight & narrow. There were many interesting, helpful people, who thought they could change NZ telecommunications from within...even for the better. I miss being in teams where people were frequently asking "Where is the love?" with regards to the customer's perspective. (Without a word of lie up to here). Frequently we used to go the really big room where Vodafone kept all it's money (including the money belonging to the customers) and the boss, or "King" as he liked to be called (also with the name Russell...spooky) would lounge around wearing only his jockeys & goldtops. Everyone would roll around in all that money until we were over it and the King would bite the heads of live snapper between enjoying the crisp clean taste of Monteith's....Which he used to frequently state was like drinking pure NZ but bottled and made of hops, barley and sugar...Water too. The King liked his fish, though I don't know if he liked cheeseburgers. One day were in the money room and the King had to use the loo and he never came back. We all very sad and before I knew it I'd written a bunch damned lies and turned my nice comment, that was supposed to be full of truthiness into the comment equivalent of "From Dusk till Dawn". Worse still the 3G data usage at Whangamata dropped away.
Sorry dude my eyes glazed over there for a bit and I don't know what happened. I think I might have caught rabies from that dream.
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Here's one from the weekend just past...
I decided to buy a new PC over the weekend, and, after a quick browse around the various online stores, found a model at a chain retailer that was $300 off, and suited my needs.
I rang the various Wellington stores to check if they had it in stock.
Store #1: "Ahh, not sure actually, try Store #2".
Store #2: "I think Store #1 has got a couple, but Store #3 certainly has".Since I was heading past Store #3 that morning anyway, I decided to grab it from there. I rang ahead, confirmed - yes - they had that model available, and would put it aside for me. "When you come in, ask for 'Bob'", the guy said.
A couple of hours later, I arrived, and asked for Bob.
"He's on his break out back," I was told. "Can you wait?"
Couldn't he maybe break his break for a moment so I could spend my $1000+ in his shop? Apparently not. I waited. And waited.
Eventually, 'Bob' arrived, remembered my phone call, and spent another long while digging out my system from whatever secret cache he had stowed it in earlier. Upon bringing it out, he confessed that the unit wasn't 100% new - it had been returned after developing a fault, but had been sent to get serviced, and everything should ok now.
Naively, I believed him, paid up, took the thing home, spent a couple of hours untangling and removing my old PC from its well-worn groove (some of the cables had put down roots, it seemed), then carefully connected the new one together. And turned it on. And watched it freeze up. Reboot. Wait. Freeze. Fuck.
I rang the shop back.
"The fault's still there. Can I bring in the box and swap it out for another of the same type?"
"Ahhh, let me see, " said Bob.
I waited.
"We only have a shop display unit that's showing videos."
"That's actually okay," I said, "at least I know that one's going. I'll take it."
"Ok," said Bob, "I'll check with my manager."
I wait, again.
"Sorry," said Bob, returning, "I can't give you that one, it runs our inshop video."
How about sorting out your actual, paying customers first? I thought.
"How about the other stores?"
"Store #1 appears to have a couple on the shelf, you could try them."
"Can you ring ahead and check that?" I asked. "They didn't seem sure this morning."
"Why don't you?" asked Bob.
Because I'm not a customer service representative, I thought.
"Ok, I'll ring them. Thanks," I said (for nothing).Store #1 is called. I explain the situation. They seem confused, but, yes, assure me there is a unit I can have should I bring in my non-functioning one. I disentangle my ex-new PC tower, and drive over. After another interminable wait as they dig out the machine from the time-lock protected nuclear bunker they obviously store their unsold PCs in, I'm told that...
"Actually, this is an ex-shop display unit."
"Not really new then?"
"No. But it's got everything on it that a new one would - we just used it for video display. I'm sure it'll be fine."Do I ever learn?
Although, in this case, the machine wasn't broken as such, but, after having gotten it home, reattaching all the cables, and booting it up, I am confronted with...
User: Store#1. Password: ?
Arse.
I ring Store#1.
"Hey, that old shop PC I just swapped a non-functioning PC from Store #3 for is password protected. Have you got the password."
"Err, really? Um, how about ++++++?"
I try that. No.
"++++++? Or ++++++?"
Nope. Nope. Having exhausted their supply of supposedly generic in-house passwords (maybe useful for another day), the store rep admits defeat.
"You'll have to do a system restore," he says.
"What? Re-install Windows?"
"Um, pretty much. Yeah."Which is what I do. And anyone who's installed Windows knows what a joy this particular task is. As my wife pointed out, if I wasn't an IT geek in the first place, the entire rigmarole would have taken days, as opposed to hours.
Maybe next time I'll buy a Mac.
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I was thinking of buying my high school aged son a macbook for xmas, an upgrade from his old mini-mac. I saw that apple has just bought out the new aluminium ones so figured the prices of the older black and white ones should be dropping. Usually I'd get something like this from trademe, but figured I'd check some shops.
So yesterday I looked around and it was still a pretty standard $1699 for the cheapest 2.1 gig white macbook. Dick Smith were selling the new aluminium version but the guy there offered to see if they had any older versions left. He checked his computer and said they had a couple of white ones for $1699 but that there was also one demo model left which I could have for $1499. He needed to see whether it was still available and said he would call me. Ten minutes later he called me. Turned out the "demo" was in fact unopened but I could still have it for $1499. Sweet. Thanks Dick Smith, Featherston St, Wellington!
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:) Cheers Noizy - but for the sake of clarity, I'm looking for GOOD customer services stories for once... from the guy down at the dairy who doesn't mind if you're 50c short, to the airline pilot who throws your keys out the window so your wife can drive the car home...
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So one day I arrive at work and I'm informed that our UK customer desperately needs a production support person for 6 weeks, and when can I leave.
I purchased a round-the-world travelling AirNZ and Lufthansa on the way there then Lufthansa and Thai on the way back. The flight to LA was a dream, and I had a 6 hour stopover. Yay, I'd just relax in the Lufthansa Business Class lounge. But when I checked in, they kindly informed me that they didn't have a lounge, and here's a $15 voucher.
$15 dollars bought exactly one beer and a plate of chips.
On my way back, Lufthansa contrived to lose my luggage, so I got to go shopping in Bangkok for clothes and other personal items with Lufthansa picking up half the tab, and they also delivered my luggage to my hotel. Good on ya, Lufthansa.
When I checked in for my Thai flight back to Auckland, I thought to myself: "This is likely my only chance to get an upgrade to first class. Better milk it !".
I duly delivered a sob story about how hard things were for me without my luggage, and would it be possible to get an upgrade for my troubles ?
The young man behind the said "Certainly sir..." and began the upgrade process.
After a few seconds he looked up and informed me that my flight didn't have a first class section.
Defeated by reality, but Thai's customer service was impeccable.
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Cheers Noizy - but for the sake of clarity, I'm looking for GOOD customer services stories for once...
Yeah? Well, too bad.
For there is a lot more satisfaction in moaning, and you of all people should know that, luggage boy.
Besides, in my culture, it's a state of mind, a way of living. I met this guy in London once, early nineties - both in the sense that it was the early 1990s, and how old he appaered to - had worked all his life at the National Theatre, had an immense love for Italy, bent my ear for a couple of interminable, booze-less hours on the subject, until I felt compelled to ask him why he never moved there, and he replied, I swear, 'the customer service, it's just terrible.' Which seemed at the time to me a sad-ass reason not to move to the land of your dreams. But maybe it's just that I didn't know any different.
So a few years later I moved to the land, if not of my dreams, at least where my partner is from, and experienced this weird thing, cus-to-mair sir-veece - I think I had to ask them to spell it the first time. And it was strange, it was weird, but it felt right somehow, and it made life easier in those first weeks and months.
A digression: there was thid administrator at uni in Milan, with a sign on her door saying "I don't give information over the phone". Which was great, especially for the students who took the train from out of town to meet lecturers who might not be there, and of course none of them had direct lines. Anyhow, on her door she also had opening hours of 9:00 to 12:30, spelt out with little magnets, until one day she took the 3 and a 0 and shifted them a bit and turned it into 9:30 to 12:00. That's the essence of Italian ingenuity right there.
End of digression. I'm in NZ for sixteen months when I take my first trip back home. And I'm there for a week until one night the light goes out. We quickly surmise that it's just us in the building and that it must be a fuse, so I phone the power company. I explain who I am, and where we live and that we have no light. The guy at the other land of the line gives me an answer that I'll take to my grave (if not his). He says: "Mbè"?
Now, for those of you who don't speak the language, mbè is not a word in Italian either. It's like a vocal shrugging of the shoulders. Condensed in that grunt was a whole philosophy of refusal to acknowledge one's fellow human being, sedimented over centuries of contempt-for-customer. And it threw me a bit, I couldn't even muster a sarcastic reply. Since after all, you know, I had phoned the right number, and we had paid line charges and call-out money for close to forty years on that particular bill, so expecting that they might come to our house once and replace a fuse ONCE wasn't so out of place. But I had forgotten, sixteen months of absence had been enough to foster in me the expectation that a call for assistance ought to be answered by those who are there to assist. So you see this is a story of good customer service, really. And can I have my socks now? -
I went to CountDown this morning and bought two loaves of bread, two tomatoes, two muffins, and one lettuce. It had just opened at 8am and there was that little morning rush, but in a minute or two the three people ahead of me were served and then it was my turn. I smiled and said “no need for another bag thanks” and the check-out chick said “are you sure?” I said “yeah that’s fine, I’ll just juggle them home”. She then said “That’ll be $9.36. Do you have a OneCard?” I said “no, just on eftpos please”.
Then I said “thanks” and she said “bye”.
Damien, did you get that b*tch fired or at least on a performance review? Did you get your pound of flesh? -
Does it count if it's a story about giving good service instead of receiving it?
It seems most common for "good customer service" stories to start with things going wrong, then being fixed by the serviceperson -- it would be nice to think that having things run smoothly and pleasantly is just the norm. At any rate, in my student years, I spent a while working in the menswear department of Farmers St. Lukes. As you may imagine, the possibilities for causing delight in our patrons by selling them business shirts and underpants were fairly limited, but there was one experience where I felt proud of myself for the work I did as a dispenser of customer service:
A guy had come in wanting a pair of dress pants in a particular size and colour, which we didn't have in stock. We were able, after a lengthy bit of ringing around, to locate a pair at another branch, which we asked to get sent over. That had been a bit of a performance - trying to describe them over the phone ("it's a dark greeny teal sort of colour") before settling on using the barcode number to check that it was the right style - but we eventually got what we wanted and sent the customer away with the assurance that it'd be sent over to us and be ready for him to pick up the next week. It took longer than we thought for the pants to arrive, and when they did we found that they'd sent us the wrong ones, despite our best attempts to make sure what they had been looking at was what we were describing. We rang back to get them to send the right ones, but it was going be another week before they got to us. I was at the counter the next weekend when I saw the guy approaching. "Shit," I thought, "this guy's going to be well pissed unless I play this right."
"Mr. Stevenson!" I proclaimed in my cheeriest voice*, going on to apologise profusely for the failure of our comrades at Lynn Mall to supply us with what he was after and assure him that the right ones would be on their way as soon as possible. He was a nice guy, not the sort to get shitty at a lowly counter jockey, but nevertheless was suitably mollified (at one point actually saying that I'd "redeemed myself") and went away genuinely happy. I'm pretty sure that it was calling him by name that did it - just the experience of having a wage slave who'd have served hundreds of other people since we last spoke recognise him by name and know what he was after without having to be told seemed to be enough to make him feel appreciated.
So there's my story - I took a guy with a problem, utterly failed to solve it, but sent him away with a spring in his step anyway. That's... something.
* I am not a naturally cheery person, and commented on a recent thread here that I hate calling people by name, but it paid dividends this time. -
but for the sake of clarity, I'm looking for GOOD customer services stories for once...
That IS a good one if it's the chain I think it is.
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I could really do with some socks, so I'm going to try my very best to think of a good customer service story, in amongst the usual horror ones.
Oh, Telecom - hard to believe but this is true.
They wrote to me and said that if I'd signed up for Freedom I would have saved up to $30 on average each month over the preceding six months. Turned out they were right! In fact if I hadn't been recuperating from surgery in January, and not gone to town during that month, the average saving would have been closer to $50.
Signed up for Freedom immediately and spent the savings on other phone calls.And - I once took my phone to America and made a call, or texted, or something. So when Australia (a country I have never taken a cell phone to) changed their network and my old phone would no longer work there, I got a free phone. It's a lot fancier and more complicated than the old one and has a couple of very annoying faults. But who cares, it was free! and my old one needed a new battery, which was going to cost $50.
Oh, and they have paid for maintenance on the road, which they also use, to our very remote house.
Almost makes up for the staggering amount of money we hand over to them each month and their inability to understand that when you live somewhere (most of the time) with no landline and make a lot of calls to America, you really do want to know the international rates for cell phones, no, I'm not interested in how much cheaper it would be if I made the call from a landline, just tell me the rates that your various plans have for international calls, please!
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That IS a good one if it's the chain I think it is.
(Sigh... gives up and logs off for the weekend...)
Fine, submit whatever stories you want then, see if I care... There were plenty of suitable ones on the original thread.
It seems most common for "good customer service" stories to start with things going wrong, then being fixed by the serviceperson -- it would be nice to think that having things run smoothly and pleasantly is just the norm.
Yeah, see when I worked in a hotel, back in my student days, I sort of figured it was my job to go out of my way to give people a really enjoyable experience (though not quite as enjoyable as my colleague, a funny little Laotian man who took forever to make his Room Service deliveries to lonely businessmen, but seemed to earn an awful lot in tips each night - strange...).
So if that meant running errands I wasn't strictly supposed to, or dealing with unusual requests, then so be it.
I remember one night getting a call asking for a tub of soft butter and a bowl of whipped cream to be sent up to a room. Not on the menu, so I asked the Evil German Head Chef if he could sort it out. "Ha!" he scoffed, "It's for ze Dirty Sexing, I know it!"
"Can you just do it, please?" I said, although I tended to agree.
Turns out they just had fresh scones in their room.
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I work for a large international brand rental car company. I could tell countless stories about our customers, and their inablity to retain brain cells when hiring a car. And no doubt there are hundreds of stories you could tell me about renting a car - there surely must be one I haven't heard before.......I do struggle at times to retain a pleasant demeanour, and I wouldn't say that providing outstanding customer service is one of my strong points (and that's a whole other story about why the heck I'm in a customer service role). I'd have to say though - if you have issues that you want resolved, being polite goes a loooooong way. I am so much more inclined to help someone when they are not rude, agressive or down right nasty. And people hiring cars can be very obnoxious!!!! And it turns us little customer service reps right off going that extra mile....
Since this is about good service received.....I do have a nice story about......Air NZ. A few years ago I booked a flight via the internet, and promptly booked for the 9pm flight rather than the 9am flight.My fault, trying to do things too quickly.....I turned up to the Palmerston North airport at 0830 to check in.....to find I was 12 hours too early. I really needed to be at my destination in the morning - it was my Mother's first birthday after my father had died a couple of months earlier. My first reponse at the check in counter was to burst in to tears. It seemed that the check in staff were not immediately impressed by the tears.....but as I pulled my self together, and pulled out the credit card to pay an extortionate amount to get home.....the check in rep recognised me from a late night incident earlier in the month - when I delivered a rental car to her husband at their home, well outside our operating hours so he could make an important job interview the next morning in Wellington......and without any further ado, I was on the flight, no extra cost to me. Who knew that my after hours efforts were going to pay off somewhere down the track....so thanks Linda - your kindness was greatly appreciated......
Great customer service comes down to the individual providing it - empathy for others is not a skill you can learn at a course -
Anyway they really don't know the meaning of good customer service in this country, particularly East London where we reside.
My marketing cousin has a catch phrase she would like the Scottish Tourism Board to take up. It goes along the lines of:
tak tha poker oot yer erse an' gie us a cup o' tea.
adn. I will never forget being one of the few visitors to the Lake District (NE England) at the end of the last foot and mouth outbreak and being charged extra to dine or drink out to compensate the locals the lack of trade. It takes a certain mindset.
Oh, good service. Now that's another story.
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Good recovery by Hallensteins in Lambton Quay. I was looking for a pair of trousers; the saleswoman said they had stopped making what I was after but there may be a couple of items left out back. She went to look and found a pair in my size. I paid for them and took them home.
The next morning, trying them on, they weren't my size at all. I went back to the shop at lunch time. The saleswoman had realized her mistake the previous day. That shop didn't have my size at all. She had sourced another pair from another location and had couriered them to Lambton Quay and they were in a bag waiting for me when I arrived.
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Come on Damian, did you get her fired? You brought her into your story, how did it end for her?
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Roho,
OK so this is not really MY good service story but my Dad's, but I figure most of the prizes would be better off in his hands anyway.
It's also a good service story that has no element of misfortune in it - it's simply a story about amazing good service.
We have family in Singapore and we're all regular visitors. On Dad's last visit in August, he did his usual trawl of Orchard Road shopping for Dad things, shoes and suchlike.
He went into Singapore's version of an upmarket Farmers, their attempt at Marks and Sparks if you will, called Robinsons.
He chose some shirts and tried them on, all the while experiencing obliging service as you'd expect from any half decent department store, help with sizes and that sort of thing.
Having decided what he wanted to buy, he told the nice lady which shirts he wanted and that he wanted to wear one in particular out of the store. She insisted on fetching new shirts rather than selling him the ones he'd tried on. She also insisted on ironing the (new) shirt he was going to wear straight away.
As he was paying at the counter the staff asked him if he'd enjoyed his shopping experience. He said yes, it was wonderful. How was our service? They asked. Amazing, very excellent, he said.
'In that case, sir, would you mind ringing this bell?' Yes, a ding ding bell on their counter.
He obliged, rang the bell and promptly the entire floor of this department store stopped and all the staff clapped.
For real.
Our family's shopped at Robinsons for years and never encountered anything like it and we'll definitely be shopping more there now.
When I heard this story I thought how much my bosses would like it. They loved it and adapted it - now any time one of our reps makes a sale, the bell gets dinged and we all clap and cheer. It sounds mighty cheesy but it's amazing what it does for morale and to put a smile on your face.
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He obliged, rang the bell and promptly the entire floor of this department store stopped and all the staff clapped.
That's exactly what the faculty office does at Victoria when a student comes in to say they've completed their PHd. I'm told.
Buying shirts seems a lot less trouble.
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I am still waiting for my beer and socks. WADDAYA MEAN I HAVE TO WRITE SOMETHING? damn it, this is appalling I have never encountered such abominable service. I'm going to write to my MP.
Dear Lockwood,
Could you lend me a small hand in this matter,....... what are you smiling at? do you think this is funny?
GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! -
Lol. Steve brought the funny.
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