Your call is important to us...
I detest having to talk to my ‘service provider’ – for mobile phone, credit card, internet, cable TV or whatever – via a ridiculous call centre!
If my call really was ‘important’ to them, the last place they’d route me to would be Mumbai (or Iceland, El Salvador - even East Kilbride for that matter). Nine times out of ten I have to work so hard to understand these ‘operatives’ that it’s barely worth the hassle.
I’m sure they have excellent language qualifications in theory, but in real life it all goes horribly pear shaped. They speak way too fast with a local accent I’m not used to, on a lousy phone line. They refuse to pronounce my name properly. And they seem totally incapable of working out exactly why I’m calling - however slowly, loudly and clearly I speak.
The right hand rarely seems to know what the left hand is doing (or has already done), either. I have to answer a suite of security questions before anything can begin. Then I go over my question (often a bit of a rambling one) in considerable detail... until it dawns on me that the person at the other end doesn’t have the authority to be able to answer it anyway. So I’m put on hold for ages with tinny music while my call gets shunted to the next level... where I have to answer the same bloody security questions – and repeat my tale of woe - all over again.
I try really hard not to fall out with these anonymous drones, because I know that they’re probably doing their best under difficult circumstances. Until one of them plays the Data Protection card...
Don’t mention Data Protection...
Occasionally I have to ring to sort out some issue or other to do with my wife. Bear in mind that:
I pay the monthly bills
I set up the account in the first place
I have all the passwords and can answer all the ‘special security questions’.
But as soon as I say I’m calling on behalf of my wife, robot-mode kicks in:
“I’m sorry –the Data Protection Act won’t let me acknowledge your wife’s existence.”
They won’t even try to use a smidgeon of initiative, even when there’s clearly no data to protect at all. Especially where I only want to know the answer to a hypothetical, ‘what if’ question that could apply to any number of customers in a similar situation.
The solution?
Well from now on, sod it. How do they know who’s asking the questions? I’ll just say that I am my wife – a lady who unfortunately happens to have a deep husky voice.
If I can answer all the security questions, how could they possibly doubt that from 2,000 miles away? And there’s no way they could get into trouble for divulging data (however trivial) to a lady with a deep voice and all the right answers.
If they query my timbre, I’ll explain that I’ve become hoarse from shouting at one of their clueless colleagues and answering 57 pointless security questions in triplicate. And I might even be outraged by their sexist attitude. Then ask them to hurry it up because I’ve got the washing to do, a coffee morning to go to, and toenails that need painting first...
It’s so stupidly simple, I don't know why I didn't think of it before!