Stormhawk (perfect_ruin) wrote,

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Several quick notes

Recap: Valued customer service peon of a printing company.

We do customer service through a live person chat program, I'm sure you've all seen them around.

Dear Customer,

Thank you for wishing to utilise our services. These services include printing, because that's basically what we do. These services do not include making the peons so angry they wish the world would end.

You got frustrated with the first peon, a lovely co-worker whom I shall call G. G tried to answer your questions, barely staying ahead of your ANGRY BLOCKS OF TEXT, and was not helped by the fact that you would repost large sections of them, or change the wording, while she was in the middle of answering said questions.

Most of said questions, I may add, could have been answered if you had taken to read the FAQ section of our site. Which in the chat with G you said you did, but when you got to me, apparently you hadn't because WHO HAS THE TIME TO READ ALL OF THAT STUFF?

You got angry with G, and asked to be passed up to a supervisor, which is me. I greeted you, and offered to read through the chat while you reiterated any questions that had not been asked.

I read through the chat, to ascertain what G had told you, but apparently her answers weren't good enough, so you simply started at the beginning again.

That's your prerogative, and in the interest of good customer service, I good-naturedly answered each and every one of them.

Then you decided to ask half of them a different way. I simplified my language somewhat - and I wasn't even using jargon the first time around. This appeased you for a while.

You went silent, and I thought the storm had passed.

It was just the eye of the storm.

Sir, have you heard the song "She blinded me with Science?" well, you blinded me with a HUGE TEXT WALL. This wall of text was 366 words. Sir, that is a lot of words. It was 16 questions. All of which I had answered in some form or another, or twice, or three times.

I answered them as fast as I could - I fought the urge to send a wall of text back at you, because I, at least at work, am a nice person.

As I answered your questions, you would ask for clarification on some items. I don't believe you followed any of the links I gave you for more detailed information. Those links were to help you understand, since you didn't bother to read through the FAQ.

Rinse and repeat sir, rinse and repeat. I think I ran out of way to answer the same questions.

You were really caught up on the idea of distribution, I gave you the information a dozen times over. Co-workers, including poor G were commenting that the questions had already been answered in manner that would have pleased anyone else.

Normally, in a long-running chat, I would have felt it to be a worthy battle. To solve an interesting problem, to assist in getting you a refund, to - in the case of this morning, help you fix a problem you didn't realise you had, but would have ruined your project had it gone unnoticed. Things like this test my work-fu and make me feel like I have accomplished something.

You, sir, made me feel as though I was going mad.

Then you began to quote me back at myself. My own words, and ask for confirmation. I, of course, confirmed my words - my answers had no reason to change within the space of an hour (or for that matter, a day or a week).

Then you were quiet again, for a very long time.

Then you came back with another wall of text. You likened navigating our FAQs to the rabbit hole and our site to The Matrix. (I really, really wish I were kidding). Me, giddy on hard rock and ice cream (both of which I was using to stop from wishing thoughts of death upon you), thought of Agent Smith.

"Never send a human to do a machine's job." It is a philosophy I agree with, but unfortunately sir, the machines have not taken over yet, and I don't have my cyber upgrade, so I am fallible and human, and only able to answer the questions you give me. I cannot spit out the correct answers to questions you didn't ask, and I don't have infinite permutations of answers. You ask a question a dozen times, I only have half a dozen ways of answering it. I am terribly sorry, and when the machines rule, I hope you are the first to go.

Finally, after one more wall of text, you left.

Dear sir, please, do not come back.


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