Be a winner! Your email newsletter done right.
You’ve got a helpful, informative email newsletter that you publish regularly? Well done, you’re in the Winners’ Circle of Online Marketing Done Right. It’s elite territory.
Just 1 question – how long does it take an interested reader to subscribe?
- nanoseconds or less?
- An email address only – and an optional first name?
Depending whether you just shifted your feet and averted your gaze… your club membership might be temporarily revoked. Yep, no messing around! I mean it.
Email subscribers are offering you their time and trust, in order for you to make their lives easier.
Never the other way around.
Sucky sign-up forms with ridiculous security checks: I’m watching you.
These are my socks. Sparkly white. Now please knock them off.
Seriously.
Seriously?
Disbelieving expletives, said aloud when businesses disappoint.
You can say it one of two ways – deadpan with one eyebrow raised or higher pitched, eyes wide with dismay.
You expect me to be happy with that?
Is that the best you can do?
I tried to plan a small holiday this weekend. I found a cottage online that, at first glance, seemed that it would satisfy my impossible family.
Email inquiry:
Could you send us any more details please? Info regarding destinations within walking distance would be much appreciated.
Response:
You can find out more, check availability and book online at <<website>>. A 30% deposit is required on booking,Just follow the Book Online link and select your required dates.
Say it with me! Seriously?
(Biting lip and ignoring butchered English). The website doesn’t have the info I want, that’s why I emailed. And I definitely didn’t ask, “Hey, how do I give you some money right now”. I want to be your customer, but you need to impress me first. My socks, think of my socks!
Seriously.
The proprietor’s obviously busy – no blame laid there. A long email written to someone only casually interested might not seem worthwhile. Buuut…she lost me. I’m not being a whinging pom, promise, this happens a lot across all sorts of businesses.
It’s very convenient for a copywriter to have these frustrations, isn’t it? I’m about to come out and say, “if only she’d had a …a brochure!”
Well! That’s all it would have taken. No other property – nobody – has had such a thing available after epic Google quests. I’m only trying to make sure my family doesn’t kill each other – without nearby diversion it’s a high probability.
Does anyone have a happy story – from a consumer’s point of view – of a business that gets it? Fire at leisure, I’ll just be sitting here with my high expectations. Waiting. Ready to be impressed.
Read 5 more reasons why you need an online brochure.
How to turn happy customers into raving enemies
Phone company customer service is notoriously awful. But it didn’t have to be difficult. That’s the lesson here: I wasn’t a difficult customer with an outlandish request. My mobile phone contract was due to expire and I was moving overseas. Simple enough, right?
What transpired is a saddening play-by-play in how to turn happy customers into raving enemies. With a contract six weeks from its expiration, I began battle preparations. I have a deep distrust of mobile phone companies and their myriad policies. They’re the dentists of the corporate world: regular people hate them. Isn’t that horrible? That your customers expect the worst of you?
This service provider would have been at the top of my list as soon as I returned. What transpired was so wholly vexing, a riot of are-you-kidding-me, that I’d sooner use two cups and a string.
My battle mission: confirm that my expiring contract would die a natural death
Difficulty out of 10: 0.5 – lift fingers to dial the 1-800 number
Oh. So. Wrong.
Sept 1 – six weeks before contract expiration
Called their service hotline at midday. A lot. No answer.
Sept 2
Called again, still no answer. Checked the number against the website 1 million times. No answer, no hold message – incessant annoyance.
Sept 3
Giving up on phone contact (why would a phone company answer the phone?), I changed tack. I’d email them! A clunky website provided only a blanket “contact us” form. Mission accomplished? Received an automated response: a real live human would be in touch within 24 hours. Still waiting for that email…
Sept 5
I’m a fastidious little soul and wanted a proper confirmation. Sent 2nd email. “Um, hello!?” This was getting ridiculous. This time, the automated response asked when would be convenient to call me. “ASAP. Any time this week during business hours please.”
Sept 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15….
No phone calls. Waiting very, very patiently.
Sept 16
Called service hotline. Magically, someone answered.
“Hi, my contract’s expiring on October 23rd. I’m calling to confirm that my service will terminate on that date.”
“Oh, we can’t accept cancellation notice more than one month in advance. You’ll have to call back on Sept 23.”
What! Who’s the customer here? “Sorry? I’m moving, I have a lot to do, I’m calling now.” No dice. If I didn’t call back on that day, I’d get another bill. I asked if they didn’t think this was a huge waste of both parties’ time?
“No, this is for the customer’s benefit,” he had the nerve to insist.
“A massage, a puppy, free ice cream – those would feel like benefits,” I explained.
September 23 – D-Day
The company had agreed to hold court with me on this date only. Before that was “not for the customer’s benefit” and afterwards meant “less than 30 days’ notice” and another month’s bill. During our last cosy chat, I’d explained that I was catching a dawn flight overseas that morning. It mattered little. The cell phone god had spoken. This was madness. This company, one of Canada’s largest, was dictating to their customer that they stand at an airport boarding gate, on hold, at 5 a.m. trying to cancel a contract that was expiring anyway, after six prior attempts over 22 days. An utter farce.
Livid and sleepy, I continued to jump through their abhorrent hoops. The voice of Oz had warned me that, despite an advertised 24-hotline, “no one would probably answer before 6 a.m.” He was right.
Their fault, my problem. Customer service made in heaven. I called them long-distance as soon as I landed. It was getting masochistic, but by now I had to win. After 15 minutes on hold, I sent another email. Still no success.
Sept 25 – Ten times
My tenth attempt at communication outlined all efforts to date. No response. Seriously?
November…
I eventually resolved my battle in mid-November, after receiving (you guessed it) a new bill. It wasn’t pretty.
For comparison’s sake, it would have taken so little of their time and such a tiny fraction of precious revenue for this “satisfied customer” to become “raving fan”. A quick no-questions-asked cancellation, a pro-rated bill and a promptly answered phone. I mean, I’d tell my friends about that, wouldn’t you? Such little time and so few resources to really, really win in the customer’s eyes.
It takes a lot to ruin customer relationships: insane inflexibility and outright inattention. At what cost does this come? As a small business owner, it’s horrifying to think what such regular disappointments are doing to peoples’ trust of routine transaction. Do we begin all business on the defense, expecting the worst? What a shame.
In a climate growing ever more demanding of corporate social responsibility, I’m sad for this unconcerned and money hungry company. Here’s hoping that a model built on miserly customer disservice proves itself a very bad idea. Until then, Rogers Wireless, you’re on my D-list.
(P.S. I’m not alone. If you’re in the mood for so-bad-it’s-good, see if you can swallow George Vaccaro’s ordeal, click here.)