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Get Free Lunch & an Exit Row: Secrets to a Good Complaint Letter
Remember the barista who coughed up a spitball the size of her front tooth into the latte at Starbucks? (Still waiting on the response Starbucks) the American Airlines representative who booked my ticket starting in the city I was going to and wouldn’t change it without my buying a second ticket? (I still don’t fly them) When your path crosses someone who didn’t do their job well, you want to make sure the company knows about it. While I’m sure you want to go all sabre-wagging, “Oh no you didn’t!” crazy on someone, simmer down. Trust me, the pen is mightier than the sword.
First the zen part of this; the act of writing out what happened to you is going to make you feel better. All corporate offices get feedback from their customers. The bad ones ignore it. The good ones read it. But the great ones act on it. So if you want a great company to act on something bad that happened to you, follow my simple rules for writing a complaint letter:
1. Don’t get crazy. Dropping the F-Bomb in your first sentence is not going to get you the attention you want. And painting yourself to be more of a saint than you actually were is not going to win you any brownie points. Write your account of what happened and then sit on it for a few hours. Go back and take out the undue emotion. You’re dealing with a company here, not your spouse who hangs on your every word.
2. “Just the facts, Ma’am.” Joe Friday said it best. Companies want to know what happened and how it made you feel about them. “I delicately set my suitcase on the weigh station when the ticket officer lunged at my throat and screamed, “IT’S TOO HEAVY!!” is not going to do you any favors. Because unless that letter is accompanied by a police report, we all know that’s not how it went down. Try “I was really disappointed in (insert company name here) when your XXX did YYY.
3. Offer them an opportunity to make it right. I always like to use, “I’d like to think this is an opportunity for you to show your customers what you think of us.” It’s like telling your Mom, “I just want you to love me.” Cue harps, angels and hopefully a discount.
4. Remind them how this experience doesn’t jive with what they advertise. I give shout outs and props to the cats at Delta. They got a new head of customer service or something, because the folks listening to my in-flight complaints about broke down TV’s, arm rests and the like are actually listening. I nearly fell off my chair when I told them that their new multi-million dollar ad campaign was not in line with my experience. They said two words that made all the difference, “You’re right.” Do huh? I’m right? From a corporation? They followed up the e-mail with a nice pre-stamped paragraph that basically read, “we’re trying as hard as we can.” They then deposited a few thousand points in my account as an apology. Go Delta!
5. Promise, don’t threaten: Again, don’t get crazy! State facts and promises that will effect the companies bottom line. “My family of 4 goes out to eat at least three times each week. While we frequent your establishment I’m afraid we don’t feel comfortable as patrons in an establishment that will not make good on such an event as we had last time.” You just told some shift manager that he’s about to lose a boat load of money. If he’s not smart enough to resolve this, you really shouldn’t be going to this joint.
6. Finally, act on those promises: You have to do it. If no one tries to make good on your situation, it’s time to bolt. It’s the same reason you don’t stick with an abusive lover or eat hot dogs from the street corner. You just won’t be able to live with the feeling in your gut that says you shouldn’t be here anymore. But then drop a note to the company on occasion letting them know you’ve spent hundreds or thousands of dollars with their competition.
Follow these simple steps and let us know how it goes. If a company reacts well or poorly, we’d love to hear.
The Queen Mother of All Starbucks Experiences
The Macy’s on 34th Street has at least 3 Starbucks on different floors throughout the building. On Sunday we made our way to the 7th floor to look at towels. Don’t fall asleep on me hearing about such mundane Sunday afternoon activities. We also bought a pitcher, so it really got crazy. But to stay awake we made our way over to the Starbucks counter for a mid-afternoon caffeine jolt. We spent way too much time waiting in line behind two women who did not understand the Starbucks lingo. No, you can’t just add hot decaf coffee to an iced latte and expect to stay iced. And yes, a tall is the small one. It doesn’t make sense. But that’s just the way it is. Sorry folks, if you don’t like it, please make your way to the McCafe.
But these verbal affairs with the cashier allowed us to spend time observing the barista who decided she was not enjoying her day. First, we looked over to see that she had stopped at not one, but two other food stops in the store to pick up her afternoon treats.
She then took the treats and dumped them into the non-fat milk steamer pitcher to mix them together. By this point the people in front of us had ordered, but she was intent on mixing up her own dessert. She tasted it, but the concoction was not to her liking. This is when she spit the brownie in her treat back into the Non-Fat milk jug.
I used to drink water out of a hose. I’ve eaten lots of street food on a stick. And I’ve survived the late-night Taco Bell menu. But when you go to Starbucks you don’t anticipate seeing a woman pull her best mama-bird impression and regurgitate her afternoon confections into a milk steamer. My not-so-gentle disposition officially lost it.
By this time we reached the cashier who had not seen the counter offense. “Hi there. How are you today?” he asked. “Sick” I instinctively, and probably a little dramatically replied. I then recounted the story of what had happened. He stood there in disbelief and a little flustered. Once we got our coffee he turned to Milkshake Barfer and whispered to her. She turned and asked, “Who said that? Who? He needs to mind his own damn business.” We walked away and wondered if that had really just happened. The poor guy behind the counter encouraged his co-worker to finish her snack around the corner. She shot us a look that I took to mean we should not come back to the towel Starbucks anytime soon.
In the wake of Domino’s You Tube catastrophe, it’s a sad fact that brands are in the hands of thousands of workers who ask, “what can I get you today?” And with the advent of the Internet, we the consumers are more than happy to let mega-brands know that their customer service training programs and hiring practices could use an extra shot.
Baby Strollers are not Battering Rams!
When did you learn to drive? I started at 7. It was a riding lawn mower. At 14 I graduated to a 1976 Chevy Blazer, primer grey with a camouflage roof. I held the wheel with my right hand and the window up with the left. It slipped open each time you hit a bump– annoying in the rain. I get that with each new navigational challenge comes a learning curve. But even with one hand I never had an accident.
I think the same concept should be applied to, of all things, baby strollers. Mothers, fathers, nannies and the occasional relative who asks, “Can I drive?” all should remember that there are other people in the world besides you and the stroller. I became painfully aware of this living on the Upper East Side. It’s the land of old people and baby strollers. My achilles tendon became a favorite landing zone for baby stroller bumpers. No excuse me. No I’m sorry. And certainly no “Are you okay?” It may take patience and an extra hand, but maneuvering them is not rocket science.
At the corner of 59th and Lexington a woman pushes her baby through a crowded intersection screaming at people waiting at the corner, “Please move! I have a baby.” The crowd of tourists parts out of respect, as the seas did for Moses, only for her to continue on into traffic. Wait, where’s she going we all start to wonder?She continues with ”FUCK YOU!” to the four lanes of traffic that don’t automatically stop when she enters.
Ma’am, your baby stroller is not made of magic. And because you have one it does not automatically allow you to teleport to your final destination.
The Starbucks at 3rd Avenue and 44th Street is a morning gathering for the French Nanny Club. Au Pairs from the neighborhood drag their new born clients to sip coffee and eat low-fat muffins. Between the 10 of them there are roughly 8 strollers parked around the cafe. Getting my morning Joe becomes something just less challenging that then the Tibetan leg of The Amazing Race. When you ask “could you move this?” none of them understand a word of English. Ironically, if the barista forgets butter for their bagel, they are up there yelling in perfect English and wagging their finger with the best of them.
According to the MTA you should fold your stroller and hold your baby for your trip. In case the train stops suddenly you don’t want the baby careening down the hallway and into the back of the car or bus. How many times have you seen this happen? Me either.
I don’t hate babies. I love them. I love them very much. And as we know, there is no manual to babies when they arrive. There are, however, manuals to baby strollers. Here’s a collection of all of them. I would encourage everyone to read them if you have one. Your baby is cute. I just don’t want his $2000 ride cracking my ankles every time you’re in a hurry to get somewhere.
Ghetto-Latte Anyone?
I had heard the rumors, but never seen one in action until this morning. I decided to swing by my Starbuck’s on 3rd Avenue & 43rd Street. I was headed out with my cup of black coffee when I saw one in action.
According to Chicagoist.com, a Ghetto Latte is defined as, … a double shot of espresso, asking for it in a larger cup, and then adding milk from the condiments stand. After a few seconds in the microwave, they’ve got a ghetto latte.
Having just paid $2.93 for .05 cents worth of ice, .02 cents worth of coffee, a .10cent cup and (I’ll round up here) .25cents worth of service, I couldn’t decide whether or not I was pissed at or jealous of him for bucking the system.
