As a Patagonia fan, I'm disappointed by their online chat support. The experience is slow and unhelpful. Another chat experience with Keynote.com was aggressive. Customer service is vital; companies shouldn't lose customers due to poor support.
Tough Love
Before I write this, I have to get one thing out of the way:
I love Patagonia. Like, really.
I love them as a company, I love their stuff, and I tout their story to everyone I know (often by recommending Chouinard’s book). I just received my green Prefontaine jacket this morning, in fact. Other than the fact that I don’t actually own much of their gear – it’s a little pricey, let’s be honest – I’m a huge huge fan.
So it hurts me to say that I’ve come to dread hitting up the Patagonia website. Alas, my penchant for drooling over the MLC Dawn Patrol wetsuit backpack (now sold out) and amazing outerwear of all shapes and sizes, has been severely dampened, all because of someone called Taylor.
Now, for those of you who don’t know this, “Taylor” is the name of the pop-up live chat box that shows up just about every time I visit the website. I usually ignore these things, but since I was having trouble finding what I wanted within the summer sale, I decided to give Taylor a shot. What the heck, the people in the store are awesome, their clothes are awesome, so the online chat must be awesome too, right?
Not so much. First, the person’s name isn’t really Taylor. I’ve used the live chat service twice now, and even though it says I’ll be speaking to Taylor, I always end up talking to someone else, usually with a nice bland American name (think Peter, John, Jane, etc.). Come to think of it, the name Taylor is so neutral that I have no idea whether the person I’m talking to is a guy or a gal.
Anyway. So I finally get through to Peter/John/Jane, and everything starts out nicely, with polite hellos and a how-may-I-help-you. The chat client seems a little slow to respond, but I chalk it up to an iffy connection (potentially on the India side, given how things are going!). I then ask what in retrospect is a silly question, since I could’ve just searched the site for it myself: “Hi Peter/John/Jane, could you help me find a backpack with a waterproof wetsuit pocket? Thanks.”
So I wait. And wait. And wait. All in, I wait maybe a minute, which might not be much in real world times, but on the web it feels like an eternity. I wait so long, in fact, that I open a new tab, type “Patagonia wetsuit backpack” into my trusty Google search bar, and voila – halfway down the page, there it is: “MLC Dawn Patrol”.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Peter/John/Jane has finally come back with a “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand your request. Could you be more specific?” Other than the heinously stiff language, it occurs to me that if
- Peter/John/Jane isn’t a rabid Patagonia fan him/herself, in which case s/he’d know of the bag I’m referring to, then
- Why didn’t s/he just use Google like I did?
Needless to say, I sign off with a “Thanks!” and a bad taste in my mouth.
Later the same day…
I find myself on the Keynote.com website looking for information on usability products and services. Interestingly, I can’t find ANY information on pricing for Keynote’s WebEffective service, so I decide to try the online chat option for the second time in 3 hours.
As it turns out, the Keynote experience made John/Peter/Jane over at Patagonia seem like a cute little grandma in comparison, and has been matched in pure sales aggression only by the salespeople of a well known CRM company out there who we all love ::hint hint::.
Anyway, after a lot of back and forth, where I repeat continuously that I will NOT give out my phone number, and that ALL I want is some basic pricing information (even if it’s just a brochure), I finally settle on leaving my email, city, pant size, and favorite ice cream flavor.
Final word
When all is said and done, many companies live and die by their customer service experiences. I recently heard from a friend doing work with a big tech company that every time a customer calls customer service, the company writes off the item as a financial loss. This is before the customer has even spoken to anyone!
My point is this: if you’re going to lose money every time a customer calls in, you’d better make sure you don’t kill two birds with one customer service rep, and lose both current profit and future business.
Word.
