Ever since last week when I had to order sixty pillowcases for a church kids’ craft project, I’ve been thinking about customer service. See, I enjoy getting what I want. Anyone feel the same? Hands? Okay. We’re on the same page.
I enjoy getting what I want when I don’t even have to ask for it (like Kid 4 coming to snuggle up right on my lap, or grapes being on sale at the grocery store). But I enjoy it a whole lot when I pay for it, too – like buying online. See, I love Amazon. I know. As an author, I’m supposed to be above all the commercial-ness and ease with which the common herd buys their books. But I’m not. I have no bookstores within 25 miles, and the 25 mile one was … yep. A Borders. So. There’s that.
And it’s not just books. I buy cereal from them. And presents for my family. And pillowcases.
Lots of pillowcases.
It was a third-party thing, where Amazon was just acting as a link between me and my pillowcase supplier (there’s a metaphor in there, I’m sure). And the Amazon people sent me a “your order is official, your wish is my command” email. Then I saw the probably delivery date. Problem. Because the 3-5 days in the ad became 7-9 days in reality. So I sent a note.
And I got a response. Within minutes. From some nice guy who WANTED TO FIX THE ISSUE AND MAKE IT ALL RIGHT. Who apparently called UPS and FedEx and asked how to make it possible to get me what I wanted. Who responded again, and again, with clarifications and questions and assurances, and even an offer to cancel my order if I wasn’t happy.
Wasn’t happy? Are you kidding me? With someone standing over my virtual shoulder (in an entirely un-creepy way) and watching my back, I was so, so happy.
And I want to be that guy.
I want to deliver what I promise. I want to make sure people in my world, in my sphere of influence, are glad they chose to deal with me.
I want to deliver and then say thank you.
I want to deliver and have people say, Oh, no. Thank you.
I want to deliver the goods.