That British Airways Belfast Customer Experience

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sometimes an organisation's priorities are all too evident in the way it comports itself. Let's be clear here - comportment is what you do, not what you say.

Some of the most egregious customer service behaviours I have seen in my professional career have been on the part of organisations which spend a lot of time and money broadcasting their customer-service values and claiming they put the customer first.

These have mostly been Middle Eastern banks and telcos, which tend to pay a lot more money pushing 'we are customer-centric' messages than they do on actually helping customers in any way. This common attitude to 'customer experience' has always confused me, to be honest. It tends to have made its way from the analogue to the digital world, BTW - these organisations under-invest in UX, search and content compared to old-fashioned one-way communication efforts and still tend to consistently confuse outreach for broadcast. And they tend to see public relations as a way of managing and obfuscating their failures rather than as a positive force.

Critically, the pain resulting from this behaviour rarely gets felt by the management taking the decisions on where to allocate resources - the customer-facing front line is stuffed with minimum wage drones who have no escalation path. Rather than listen to them, the company will issue customer opinion surveys direct to customers which invariably result in initiatives to squeeze more out of the drones rather than drive any fundamental change in behaviour.

In the case of an airline like British Airways, it's understandable that the big expensive flying machines are what matters most. You'll claim it's all about the people, but that's not really the case (comportment, remember?) - the money's in the capital equipment and shifting that equipment around with optimal efficiency (slots/routes/lading) is the ultimate key to success.

When things go wrong, for instance when your home airport is closed through fog or any other circumstance, the operational challenges can be immense. Suddenly you face the collapse of the carefully stacked house of cards that is your optimal routing/resource utilisation. Minimising time to recovery is key and, despite your loud protestations, customers tend to be one of the great inconveniences to this process. They have a nasty tendency to be where they're not supposed to be and fail to be quite where you'd like them to be.

They get, in short, in the way.

When we arrived for our scheduled flight from Belfast to find the usually minimal check-in queue was a long, snaking affair stretching almost out of the airport door, we were puzzled. We'd not been keeping up with the news - too busy doing Christmas - and found out from friends online that there had been flight delays at Heathrow due to freezing fog. British Airways - which had our email address and contact number - hadn't reached out to advise of any delays or issues.

The queue wasn't moving and there was nobody from BA 'working the line' and telling people what was happening. The boards showed later flights to LHR than ours that day had already been cancelled, which had us trying to call a friend we knew was connecting from BHD through LHR to DXB later on. Clearly her travel plans were already scuppered, even as ours still held out a dwindling prospect of hope.

After an hour or so, a tannoy advised us that check-in was slower than normal and assured us that 'we would be processed' as soon as possible. This would be my first piece of 'customer experience feedback' to British Airways. Processed is not, as eny fule no, a 'feel-good customer experience' word.

A long time later, we were duly processed and went through security to the departure lounges. We were on the 15.05 flight and watched the 12.05 flight departing shortly before we were due out. There was clearly a delay in the offing here, but we took heart on not being cancelled. Minutes later, the tannoy rang out - our flight was cancelled and we were to collect our bags and a 'rebooking form' from the baggage area.

The rebooking form was an A4 sheet being handed out by harassed looking baggage handlers who assured me that they had no information beyond the form, didn't work for BA and weren't responsible for anything. Repeated requests to speak to someone from BA were ignored or refused. The form itself had been knocked up in an annoying, hard to read 'handwriting' style font and carried a wrong number for the call centre and the instruction to 'call between XX:XX and XX:XX'. As the primary instrument of communication to passengers of a cancelled flight, it was pretty shoddy and almost utterly useless. At this stage the BA app and website were equally useless, showing the flight as either still departing or delayed. There was no rebooking option available on either platform. The British Airways call centre was dropping calls with a message that they were too busy to talk to us.

We hired a car and fled back to Newry for our unscheduled night's layover. By the time we arrived down the road (it's an hour's drive away), the flight was no longer showing as cancelled, but as delayed to 6am the next day. After 30 minutes on hold, we finally got through to the call centre, clearly managed at a distant location, which could only confirm the delayed flight or refer us back to BA.com. Because your flight is delayed and not cancelled, the message was clear, rebooking isn't really an option.

With no information other than this, we had no option but to get up at 3.30am to arrive at the British Airways check-in at Belfast City - both officially and fondly known as George Best - in time to present on time for the revised 6am flight. Once again, a long, long queue and no BA staff on hand. Getting to the front of the line, we learn BA1417 is a 'free' flight - a plane is on the tarmac surplus to requirements and they'll fill it as soon as possible and get it off when they can. As it turned out, this was finally to be at 5.30pm that day.

In all that time, BA staff were notably absent. Information and updates were just as sparse. Throughout, our fellow travellers were anxious and unsure how to act in the total absence of information, given no option but to hang around and wait for the next reluctantly divulged snippet. Families, old people, kids and all - confused, concerned and effectively marginalised - were all systematically kept in the dark.

The overwhelming theme throughout this whole process was the lack of communication or concern for the messy carbon-based life forms which British Airways claims sit at the very centre of their business. The BA app was less than useless, the website poorly structured and lacking in any useful information, transactional capability or interactivity - especially given the circumstances. The BA Twitter team pushes out platitudes but there's little empowerment on show here - they had as much information (or as little) as we did.

BA's only attempt at 'customer communication' was a badly formatted letter packed with errors and carrying no useful information. There was no proactive outreach, no attempt at interactive person-to-person communication or 'Customer Experience Management' (at one stage the Twitter team told me they'd share my comments with their 'Customer Experience Managers' which had me in stitches and, to be honest, rather fed my Twitter output for a while. I managed some 100 tweets in all, a flow of admittedly somewhat therapeutic scorn that eventually drew the attention of the dear old BBC).

It was clear time after time that BA staff had knowledge of the developing situation which they were not prepared to share with their customers. BA.com was often updated before any communication was attempted with customers waiting in the lounge, while staff would only offer information in response to direct questions - literally, if you didn't ask (pointedly), you didn't get.

We couldn't face a long haul flight directly after the BA debacle and so re-booked our subsequent flight with Emirates. It took 5 minutes using EK's website.

BA followed up the whole frustrating experience with a customer experience survey yesterday (twice, for some reason), which actually just confirmed my views of them as an organisation. Did the pilot serve us well? Was he proactive? Chatty? Good at making us feel warm and welcome?

I don't care, BA. That's not his job. His job is to drive the thing effectively and safely, not to make up for your lack of investment in customer service by bantering and pandering to your ill-served customers.

I'd like to think they could learn something from this: listen and perhaps even consider changing their behaviour as a result of the feedback. But they won't. British Airways didn't learn a thing from the Eyjafjallajökull debacle, which cost us four days of BA-induced hell back in 2010 - because every single awful lack in communications and customer care or customer experience management evident then was evident now.

So much could change and for a relatively small investment. Because an organisation is judged not on how it acts when everything's going as expected, but how it acts when the extraordinary happens. British Airways' performance in the face of the extraordinary has been consistently, arrogantly, infuriatingly sub-par.

All it would take is reviewing British Airways' operations from the customer's point of view. It's a serious suggestion - it so clearly hasn't been done, ever.

Meanwhile, my abiding takeaway is that a 'Customer Experience Management' team is employed by this company.

God forbid. What do they do each day?

HSBC Dubai Drooling Incompetence Special

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It's been a while, hasn't it? Things have been pretty quiet on the HSBC bank Dubai front. Nothing screwed up, nothing frustrating. We've actually been managing the hideous complexities of money in/money out without putting out the welcome mat to Mr Cockup. This long period of tranquility has, however, merely been a ruse to lull us into a false sense of security, presumably to ensure that when the diabolical blow came, its impact would be more sorely felt.

So you log into internet banking with a user ID and then enter a memorable piece of information and the six digit code generated by your HSBC secure key gadget. The memorable piece of information consists of a number of pre-set daft questions like who's your favourite dog or name the fifteenth star out from Betelgeuse if you're travelling clockwise around Orion's Belt. Logging on yesterday, Sarah found the system had simply stopped letting her in at this stage of the process. No error message or any other indication that something was up, the screen just refreshed and took her back to its initial state. We checked and double checked, she was typing everything properly but it simply wasn't working.

The fear that gripped me was immediate and overwhelming. I started to gabble at her. Try standing on your head. Drink a glass of water. Anything but force me to call their call centre. But it was clear there was nothing else for it. My hand shaking, I made the call.

The usual appalling IP line, the usual strongly accented CallBot on the other end of it. Perhaps we had been mis-typing the memorable information. Had we forgotten it? It was perhaps a network problem. How the hell can typing an ID into a webpage be a network problem? You might as well blame the state of our custard. Go on, try that. It's a custard problem. Makes as much sense, doesn't it?

A number of calls follow, an hour of frustration and walking through the same script with a number of different people. Reset your memorable information, that'll do it. Okay, off we go to do that. We decide to re-enter the same memorable information as that's what Sarah's been using these last few years and she remembers it.

No. You can't do that. You can't have new memorable information that's the same as the old memorable information. So we're inputting the memorable information correctly then. Do we accept this? Yes, sir, I understand. You clearly have a custard problem and the solution is to reset your memorable information and password. Wearily, we reset the memorable information and password. Still doesn't work.

Someone at HSBC has been watching The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. You know, the scene where they give Judy Dench a job humanising the call centre people who spam the UK with constant double glazing cold calls. The CallBots are now programmed to say human-like things such as 'How are you today Mr Alexander?'

Given I have just spent twenty minutes being poked with sharp sticks by your witless colleagues and am in a state of fundamental frustration being denied access to my bank account for no apparent reason, how do you think I am today, you artless, bloated drone?

Some things never change, though. There's that same insistence on assuming you are the issue, not HSBC. 'So you appear to have forgotten your memorable information, Mr Alexander.' is part of the affirmation phase of the script. Because of the appalling quality of the line, it becomes 'Snarble afquack I am pooble pickled aardvark goosp fellate.' and has to be repeated a number of times as does, cathartically, my response that I have forgotten nothing the problem is entirely of their making and if the Americans needed any help in making their government even more broken than it currently is all they'd have to do is call into HSBC and ask for assistance with the simplest of issues.

At one state someone suggests using another browser. It's insane. A form is refusing to populate and verify correctly input information and the solution is to use another browser? After protesting, we do. Same issue. And then, three hours of forehead-slapping frustration later, someone else suggests using another PC. Which, against all possible sense works. Why? Because Sarah's downloaded a browser plug-in from some educational company a couple of days ago and HSBC's security has detected it, doesn't like it and so won't let you past its log-in screen.

No error message, no hint why it's not working. Nobody telling the call centre that a failed log-in at this stage could be triggered by another level of unseen security that blocks certain classes of browser add-in. No note anywhere on the system that log-in issues could be caused by untrusted add-ins. So the CallBots just lead you through the reset password script until you explode like a frog with a compressed air line up its backside.

Every time I fly through Heathrow, I see the HSBC ads all over the airport - you know the ones that talk about the future of the world being understood by HSBC? It's got to the point where Sarah has to restrain me, marching me ranting past the offending drivel before security pick me up.

Why not change? Because I am constantly assured the others are just as woeful. If anyone wants to earnestly recommend their UAE based bank to me in the comments, I certainly will. Up until now, nobody has ever been able to make such an unqualified recommendation. Which is, let's face it, pretty tragic...

Is This The World's Worst Call Centre?

 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The amazing tale of John McAffee that has played out over the past few weeks started with him hiding from Belizeian police by digging a hole in the sand and hiding in it with a cardboard box over his head.

It's an image that played in my mind this morning as I listened to the series of mildly farty whooshes on the line. A drug-addled maniac buried up to his neck in the sand with a box over his head, cowering and gibbering softly to himself in the middle of a South American beach. I would rather have been in McAffee's sweat-darkened sandles than in my own shoes, stuck on the end of an IP line to Dumbabad or wherever it is HSBC's call centre is located.

Is HSBC Dubai's call centre the worst in the world? I find it hard to think of a contender, let alone someone who has misunderstood customer service to the degree they believe this 'service' is fit for purpose.

I spoke at the Middle East Call Centre Conference last year. Uber-geek Gerald Donovan had suggested I take to the stage, place a cassette recorder playing 'Greensleeves' on the podium then leave for twenty minutes, returning to say "Sorry to have kept you waiting, but I was busy helping another conference." I am ashamed to tell you I didn't have the bottle to do it. It would, indeed, have been a career high.

In a fit of finger trouble, Sarah had credited our Visa account instead of transferring between two of our current accounts. So I had to get them to reverse the transfer. It was not possible to do this immediately, before the transaction was posted at the close of business, apparently. I had to wait for the funds to clear and then simply reverse the transfer. Simple!

So I wait until the funds clear then call telephone banking. Wait a moment while they identify a random species of mandrake parasite. Now key in the last six digits of your bank account. This number is never recognised by the system, so you just key in any random number. Now your ten digit phone banking number, your twelve digit bank account number or your best estimate of the number of craters on the moon. And now your date of birth in DD/MM/YYYY format followed by the hash key. And now your six digit phone banking number.

By now you're exhausted. But at least you can dial one for card services then star for a human being. And - look into my eyes - you're through to Dumbabad. How can HSBC help you today? Well, I want to reverse a transfer from my Visa account. You want to lick an axe murderer from Crawley? No, I want to reverse a transfer from my Visa account. Ah. Please hold.

The music on hold is inaudible in the whoosh and swish of the IP line. Occasionally IP artefacts cause strange auditory phenomena like eddies in the astral plane. In the sea of wow and flutter you can occasionally hear snatches of music, a slightly manic-sounding, repetitive jangle not unlike a Goan Jamaican steel band overlaid with a recording of Paul Young's bassist. It fades in and out maddeningly.

And we're back. I have to transfer you to internet banking for that, sir. Fine, let's do it. Is there anything else I can do to help you today? No thank you. Can I just confirm your mobile number? Yes. Your PO Box? Look, could you just transfer me, please?

The music on hold is inaudible in the whoosh and swish of the IP line. Occasionally IP artefacts cause strange auditory phenomena like eddies in the astral plane. In the sea of wow and flutter you can occasionally hear snatches of music, a slightly manic-sounding, repetitive jangle not unlike a Goan Jamaican steel band overlaid with a recording of Paul Young's bassist. It fades in and out maddeningly.

I'm on hold for a subjective eternity. Card services. Hi, I want to reverse a transfer from my Visa account. You want to lick an axe murderer from Crawley? No, I want to reverse a transfer from my Visa account. Ah. Hold on.

The music on hold is inaudible in the whoosh and swish of the IP line. Occasionally IP artefacts cause strange auditory phenomena like eddies in the astral plane. In the sea of wow and flutter you can occasionally hear snatches of music, a slightly manic-sounding, repetitive jangle not unlike a Goan Jamaican steel band overlaid with a recording of Paul Young's bassist. It fades in and out maddeningly.

Right. Umm, you can't do that. Yes I can, I've done it before. Hold on a second, I'll transfer you to the relevant team. But...

The music on hold is inaudible in the whoosh and swish of the IP line. Occasionally IP artefacts cause strange auditory phenomena like eddies in the astral plane. In the sea of wow and flutter you can occasionally hear snatches of music, a slightly manic-sounding, repetitive jangle not unlike a Goan Jamaican steel band overlaid with a recording of Paul Young's bassist. It fades in and out maddeningly.

Sorry to keep you holding for so long. The agent you need to talk to isn't picking up, I'll just transfer you to the relevant team. HANG ON before you transfer me, who is 'the relevant team'? Card services. But they transferred me to you. They're the ones you need. Fine.

The music on hold is inaudible in the whoosh and swish of the IP line. Occasionally IP artefacts cause strange auditory phenomena like eddies in the astral plane. In the sea of wow and flutter you can occasionally hear snatches of music, a slightly manic-sounding, repetitive jangle not unlike a Goan Jamaican steel band overlaid with a recording of Paul Young's bassist. It fades in and out maddeningly.

Card services, hello.  I want to reverse a transfer from my Visa account. I have been on the phone for thrirty minutes now for this one simple thing. You want to lick an axe murderer from Crawley? No, I want to reverse a transfer from my Visa account. Sure, no problem. There, done.

Done?

Yes, done. Anything else I can help you with today?

Your Call Is Important To Us

Image via WikipediaGreeting the Caller
When answering the phone, say ‘Hello’. When the caller says ‘Hello’ back, keep saying hello until the caller becomes angry. Alternatively, give your name and ask in a bright, sparky voice, ‘Is there anything I can do for you today after you tell me your inside leg measurement?’

If you can, pronounce your name oddly so that the caller has to ask for it several times. Ideally, change your name to TikkiPikkapukka.

Time on Hold
If the caller has been on hold for a significant time, it is likely that he or she will have been forced to listen to distorted music, several advertisements for your organisation's brilliant customer service award track record and several repetitions of ‘Your call is important to us but we’re busy helping other customers.’ It is likely that the customer will be angry or at the least mildly irritated at this stage, so don’t forget to place them back on hold. Ideally, pick a line that doesn’t have music on hold but that does have a strange echo on it, something like an ultrasound recording played backwards or a slowed down recording of the Doppler effect from a pea being shot through a wind tunnel.

If the caller asks you to call them back, assure them that you will and forget to take their number.

Asking For Security Information
Make sure you always ask for the customer’s security information even if the call is a routine request for something like your branch opening hours. Be particularly sure to ask for this information if your call system has already asked the customer to key in his or her PIN number, unique caller number, Memorable Information and Call Repeating Access Password number in order to get put on hold for twenty minutes to talk to you.

If your call centre has initiated the call, don’t forget to fail to identify yourself properly and then go straight into asking a range of insane security questions. If the customer answers these, don’t forget to end the call with a warning about identity theft.

Putting the Caller on Hold
Never, ever tell the customer you are about to put them on hold. Just drop the line and leave them in limbo to stew for a while. Ideally, have a colleague pick up the line and insist on going through the whole process again. If you put a caller through this until every seat in the call centre has talked to him/her and have the recordings kept for training purposes to prove it, you could be eligible for a Callie – the global call centre awards. The link to the application form is here.

Keep the Caller Informed
If it is taking a huge amount of time to dig into the customer’s records or get a line to the department that has the answers, don’t forget to sigh a lot and make plentiful tapping noises on your keyboard. You can save the risk of RSI or chipped nail polish by making a recording of this sound on a cheap Dictaphone and just replaying it. Then ask the customer if he/she is there, say ‘Just one minute’ and transfer the line to the night service message. If your call centre is 24/7, transfer the call to the ‘Sorry, extension 43 is not available. Please leave a message.’ This should then route through to ‘This mailbox is full, please try later.’

Never Guess the Answer
If you don’t know the answer to a customer’s question, don’t guess the answer, just lie. Say anything that comes into your head. Some good holding lines are: ‘That’s against our policies’, ‘My manager has said I can’t do that’, ‘The system is down’ and ‘That department has been disbanded.’ A great all-purpose lie is, ‘Yes, that’s finished now. The thing you want is in the post and will be with you within two working days.’

Always Keep the Promise to Call Back
When you are forced to promise to call the customer back, always ensure that there is, indeed, a subsequent call. Route the call request through to another department, security is always a good one, or a totally unrelated department in another continent is always good to place a call back to the customer.

How to Deal With an Angry Caller
If a caller becomes angry, repeat the thing that has made them angry in a slow voice. It is important at this stage to tell the customer that you are trying to help them. Continue speaking slowly and say ‘I’m sorry’ as frequently as normal grammatical usage will allow. A good phrase to use here is: ‘There is nothing you can do. It’s just the way things are.’

Passing the Caller On
If the caller asks to speak with someone more senior, block this request at all costs in case it might get you into trouble. At first, always try telling them that the manager will just tell them the same thing. If they are insistent, you can point blank refuse, say that it’s not possible or put them on hold in the Doppler pea chamber.

Never End the Call if the Customer Wishes to Continue
It is important never to hang up on a customer, even if they have been tried to the point of insanity and are having a major coronary incident. That is what the Doppler pea chamber is for. However, it is vitally important that you have the last word in every call, so don’t forget to ask ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ It is, of course vitally important to do this when you have been totally unable to help the customer. If you have been able to help the customer, you may need to apply for retraining.

Keeping Customers Happy
If your employer wanted customers to be happy, they’d hardly outsource their most important relationships to a bunch of disempowered dunderheads in a room who don’t have the authority to crap without a triplicate form let alone actually do anything that a customer would actually want. The words Your Call is Important To Us are actually a sophisticated code that translates to ‘We don’t care about you’ and the more aware of this you are as a call centre operator, the better it will be for all of us.

Happy customers are a myth. They’re all whingeing time wasters and it’s your job to make sure they know they haven’t a hope in hell of getting anywhere. After all, if customers started to dictate what the company did, what kind of world would it be?

(The inspiration for this was colleague Alec Harden - @alecharden - who bowled into the office this morning screaming at Skywards. Skwards won, but then that's what call centres always do in the end, isn't it? So This article, "Ten Golden Rules for Call Centre Operators", subsequently had me in helpless stitches of hooting laughter and demanded parodying.)

Seat

If you've got a little time on your hands, make a cup of coffee, sit down and relax and take 15 minutes or so out to read this 10,250 word post from UAE based blogger and Etisalat customer service victim Sam. It documents his 43-day attempt to get his Internet connection upgraded from 1Mb to 2Mb.

It'll likely resonate with you if you've ever dealt with Etisalat or any other monopoly provider. It'll resonate if you occasionally cry into the void at the sheer frustration of dealing with call centre culture. It'll make you angry. It'll make you marvel at how he didn't commit any acts of violence, vandalism or inappropriate behaviour.

And, with a bit of luck, it'll get widely publicised and lead to a thorough-going witch hunt over at Etisalat towers. Because it's the voice of a frustrated, annoyed, ignored, disrespected and utterly impotent consumer being jerked around by people who represent disempowered, dumb, rote process gone mad.

Enjoy!

Wasps in a jam jar

I was speaking at the Cards Middle East event yesterday, telling a small audience of bankers why it's not a smart idea to shake up your customers like wasps in a jam jar every time you talk to them or deal with them. How ironic, then, to get home and find that our Visa card hadn't been debited for the airline tickets that will transport us magically to the UK this summer. Well, at least we couldn't see it on the statement. But then two of our statements are missing and the bank has been failing to send us a fax of them for the past two weeks. So it might be in one of those. Or in the new one that hasn't come yet. Or somewhere.

So I call the call centre and get the usual buffoon. This time he starts the call by asking me security questions. I answer three of them, but by the fourth question it's all become too much for me.

"Hang on, pally. I've just entered my unique and hardly memorable ten digit personal banking number and my six digit personal banking security PIN code number identifier to get through here, so why are you asking me security questions?"
"What is your card limit sir?"
"I've told you my PO Box number, my date of birth and the name of the company that I work for. So why don't you answer my question?"
"What is your card limit sir?"
"I don't know. I don't care. Why are you asking me?"
"What is your card limit sir?"
"Are you seriously telling me you're going to deny me service if I don't answer you?"
"What is your card limit sir?"

I swear it's true.

We eventually get beyond this to the point where I get to ask about the missing transaction. Give him the date and value. Nope, he says. Absolutely not. Not there. No such transaction. Nothing for Emirates, nothing for that amount, nothing for that date.

Puzzled, I call Emirates who are, as usual, great. The woman explains (patiently, given that she's obviously talking to a twit) that you can't issue an e-ticket without the Visa transaction being validated and that yes, I hold two valid tickets to fly. I understand that, it's just that the bank swears the money hasn't come out. She's patient but insistent. Perhaps I might like to talk to my bank again?

Perhaps I might. I call them back. A long conversation. I point out that I hold the tickets so the transaction must have gone through. Besides, Sarah's reconciled the Visa card by now. The money must have been debited, although it's hard to be precise as there are so many missing transactions because of the statements we haven't got.

We're about an hour into the investigation by now and I'm reasonably wound up, teetering on the verge of an act of physical violence. The new drooling idiot in the call centre is still insisting that there is no transaction. I make him go over it time after time and then: "There's nothing there for that amount, Sir. Just two transactions on that day with Emirates each of which is for half the amount you have mentioned."
A pause, then I clearly hear him say, in a quiet voice, "Oh."

There's a long, murderous silence which I eventually broke. I shall spare you the rest, but it went something like this...

I've got a new idea for an advertisement for my bank to use. It's a picture of a customer, a picture of a call centre operator, a picture of a call centre operator and a picture of a customer, all side by side. Across them are the words 'Annoyed, Annoying, Annoying, Annoyed'.

I thought of some others, too, but they all use rude words. I'd be happy to share them if someone from the bank would like to give me a ring.