Shortly after I posted about being locked out of Google Groups, Google engineer Brian Fitzpatrick fixed it for me. I’m grateful to Brian, and it’s impressive that Google engineers care enough to patrol the internet’s rooftops so they can help customers in need.
So, while my problem got fixed, and I got personal attention from the guy who wrote the book on Subversion (swoon!), why am I not happy?
Here’s why:
Let’s say my food comes out wrong at a restaurant. I think, “hey, these things happen, I won’t freak out because there’s a protocol for this.” Then I patiently explain the problem to my server, the server cheerfully fixes the issue, and we both get to look like heroes.*
Now, let’s say the server ignores me. At this point everyone loses because it’s not a routine bug anymore, it’s a confrontation. I’ve got to find the manager and dump my problems on her. She’ll have to deal with me, with the server, and no matter how the manager fixes the problem, it can’t make up for the ruined meal and the stress incurred on everyone.
This is exactly how it feels to customers when we’re forced to resort to complaining on the internet because there’s a breakdown in customer service.
The path for users to get help must be clearly marked and well lit. No ambiguity, no forks in the road.
Here’s an example of what I mean, fresh in my mind because it happened yesterday:
- I noticed I wasn’t getting Twitter updates, so I went to Twitter’s help site.
- Like a good user, I made sure my problem wasn’t on the “known issues” list.
- It wasn’t a known issue, so I looked for the “Report a Problem” button and…
- Uh oh. No button. Anywhere.
It turns out there is a support form, but I only found it after stumbling around Get Satisfaction. The whole time I thought, “I should just complain directly to @alex, @ev, @biz, @stop, and whoever else I can think of who works at Twitter.” If there’s no official community manager, users will seek out whoever has a public face at the company.
Remember, the key is that the customer and the waiter both know and follow the service protocol. If the customer has to opt out of a dead end service path to complain to the manager, or to the internet, everyone loses.
* I’m serious about the “looking like heroes” thing. Your boss, date, or whoever you’re eating with is watching you. The prime social directive is to add to everyone’s enjoyment while gliding over the potholes. Meanwhile the prime service directive is not just to serve, but to have customers come away with warm fuzzies and maybe even a story about how good the service was.