"[Insert name], your call is very important to us..."

Having recently bought a house we were doing a handful of cosmetic improvement projects, and our first floor powder room was in desperate need of a facelift.

I eagerly tore open the Wayfair package and revealed two identical corner wall mounts, which we intended to install one over another for some storage and decorative space in the small bathroom. The first install was smooth, but as I started the second I noticed the finish was completely spotted and discolored.

Sigh.

My shoulders slumped; not because I was short a corner mount, but because of the dreaded customer service phone call I’d have to make.

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Why do companies hate customers?

“Your call is very important to us.”

The message plays on repeat for what seems like an eternity. If I’m so important to you, why did you design a system to weed out the weak? Who has 2 hours a day to sit on hold with customer service?

Why, after I typed in all of my information, am I being asked to repeat it when someone finally picks up?‍‍
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‍Why, when I get transferred, does my information not get transferred with me and I have to start all over?‍‍
Why am I being told to go online for “faster” help, only to end up with the online chat directing me to the phone line?

The answer? Because most companies don’t care about their customers after the sale. They’re in it for the short term gain rather than the long term relationship. Make a buck and move on; there’s plenty of fish in the sea!

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There’s a better way

I sent an email to Wayfair’s customer service explaining the issue and included the above photo of the discoloration to hopefully head off some of the hell I prepared for. Then I went back to my daily tasks and forgot about it.

Ten minutes later the phone rang.

“Hello?”

A bubbly voice appeared,

“Hi, good afternoon! This is Lacie, calling from Wayfair. Is this Brian?”

I was flabbergasted.

“Yes, I’m Brian…”

“I got your email about the discolored corner mount. I’m so sorry that happened – I have no idea what went wrong. I would be super frustrated in your position. Listen, we’re refunding your card right now. It’ll be back on within a few business days. I just wanted to make sure I let you know before the weekend.”

I was so shocked I don’t even remember how I responded. But eventually I asked,

“Will I receive shipping instructions to send this back?”

“Oh, goodness, no. You can keep it. Feel free to throw it out, donate it, use it in a storage space, or if you’d like, head to a local hardware store and pick up a bit of wood refinisher. Touch up the finish and use it like you originally intended!”

I thanked her profusely and we hung up.

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A little humanity

“In an age of incompetence, I’ve been able to last in this crazy business.” -Billy Joel

It doesn’t take much to surprise and delight people these days. We are so used to being treated like a number that when a company shows even a little compassion, a touch of humanity, we are overjoyed.

How much does it cost Wayfair to train service reps to reach out and spend 5 or 10 minutes on the phone with a customer, connect and engage with them, and show a bit of empathy? I have no idea, but I can tell you what they get in return:

A raving customer for life.

I had no connection with Wayfair prior to that call. Sure, I’d ordered from them a few times, but I would have just as happily gone anywhere else if the price was better.

But now?

A ten-minute phone call with a human completely changed my relationship with an otherwise faceless company. It humanized them. I trust them, and given the option between them and some other random Internet company in the future, I’ll definitely head their way. Because I know if something goes wrong or I need a hand, there’s a Lacie ready to help.

In an age of incompetent customer service, a touch of humanity is now extraordinary. And it ripples.