I’ve come to dread going to my quaint little neighborhood bank. Mostly it’s because of Mark, the very nice teller who desperately wants to help me. “Mr. Svenson, you have a lot of money in your checking account,” he says. “Don’t you want to open a savings account?”
For what? So I can earn some nickels and then have a new account to deal with? I find it hard to level with Mark: I don’t want to see him anymore. What I want is for my bank to create an iPhone app that lets me upload pictures of checks that then get deposited.
Chase does this, and I’m considering switching. Not because I want better customer service. But because I want less.
I’ve divorced myself completely from the Post Office. Have you been a US Post Office lately? What a sad little time warp that is. I print my postage from a computer now, and that makes me happy.
Cox Communications just called me on my business line. I was taken aback. Was my account in arrears? No, it was just one of their humans wanting to ask me about “my recent service experience.” Why? To prove they care about me? They don’t care about me. And I don’t mind. Wasting my time on the phone, that I mind.
I don’t understand this approach to running a business. Someone from Cox came to my house to fix a problem. The problem was fixed and I moved on. Why are they still clinging to my pant leg?
Look corporate guy: The only time I want to talk to a human is when something is wrong. Fix the problem, say goodbye, and then hang up. I don’t want a long term relationship, okay?
And from now on, if you’re going to send a robot, make it a real one.