Good customer service

In which good customer service is worth more than price.

Applying for another mortgage, too stressful

I write this from my normal train, well not normal as this definition is slightly flexible with the train operator the free-market has decided can operate my journey home. It’s the train that gets me to, or closest to the station I need to get to. Whenever I take to Twitter to lament the latest delay or cancellation I am assured of an apology and a promise that things will get better.

That’s not customer service though, It’s just reiterating what I already know. Real customer service comes from doing all you can to stop your company from creating a bad situation. Then if you do mess up, owning up and doing something about it. It’s easy to do the former but much harder to do the latter. Just as it’s easy to complain it is much harder to talk about the times you got good service.

I’ve spent my life in industries that generate ill felling amongst their customers. I’ve worked for banks, insurance companies and utilities. The only time I may have worked in a “nice” industry was when I worked for Mars, but that was no Cadburys.

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The British rain

In which I get comfy to listen to the rain outside.

It is that time of the year when the greyness of the British climate really hits the New Yorker in my life hard. For the past few days we have been surrounded in a thick fog that seems to clear to allow the drizzle in.

Light drizzle is the Schrodinger’s cat of weather, you both need and don’t need an umbrella and as soon as you make your choice you’ll decide it was the wrong one. If it is going to rain I would prefer it to pour. I want a torrent of water cascading from the skies, it should be drumming on the windows, and most importantly I should be inside.

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