It seems commendable that companies take surveys about the “consumer experience.” After all, we all want good service, and presumably, the more they know, the better they do.
But they sure ask some bizarre questions in the process. A few weeks ago, I foolishly agreed to a telephone “consumer satisfaction survey” concerning the bank where we keep our checking account.
The surveyor told me that the questions would concern only my most recent visit to the bank, which was to deposit a couple of checks.
(I am aware that there are devices known as ATMs, but I have so far managed to avoid using one.)
I was asked a series of questions, and I was supposed to answer on a scale from “unacceptable” to “outstanding.”
On that most recent visit, I walked into the lobby. A teller at an open window said, “Hi, Ed. I can help you here.” I made my usual joke that in modern America, “help you” actually means “take your money,” as when a Wal-Mart or Safeway check-out clerk says “I can help you in aisle three.”
I handed her the checks and deposit slip. She examined the checks and their endorsements, then punched keys on her terminal. While the machinery processed the transaction, she asked me how one of my daughters, a schoolmate, was doing. The deposit receipt emerged, I thanked her, she asked if I needed anything else, and we parted.
So how was my overall experience on the survey scale? Everything went smoothly and I couldn’t imagine how the teller might have done a better job.
Even so, an “outstanding” experience might have involved her saying something like, “You know, Ed, we just found an extra $300,000. Would you mind if we put it into your account? You can do whatever you want with it, and the IRS will never know.”
As for “unacceptable,” by definition you don’t accept it. You ask to see the manager then. You call the regulators. You handle it long before some survey comes calling.
For more survey stupidity, the questions went into detail, ranging from the teller’s greeting to whether she had made me aware of the bank’s other services, all on the range from unacceptable to outstanding.
I thought the bizarre bank survey might be an aberration, but when I opened the mail the other day, there was a survey from J.D. Power & Associates concerning my “Waste Management experience.”
You can pretty much set your clock by the garbage truck’s arrival at 9:30 a.m. on Fridays. When I’ve needed extra service, such as spotting a two-yard Dumpster in front when we were removing an old ceiling from a bedroom, the company provided it promptly.
But “I’ve got no complaints” doesn’t appear on the range from “unacceptable” through “average” to “outstanding.”
The first three questions concerned my “current container,” a one-yard Dumpster. Is its appearance unacceptable, average or outstanding? It’s a little grungy, but it’s a trash receptacle in an alley. Who really cares what it looks like?
As for its “working condition,” it works well enough for me, but I don’t know enough about this device to know whether it’s outstanding or merely average. Why not ask your employees on the truck, who wrestle with it every week, instead of asking me?
After that, I gave up on the survey. Attention, businesses of the world: You don’t need to ask. I’ll let you know when something is “unacceptable” — like these senseless survey questions.
Ed Quillen (ekquillen@gmail.com) of Salida is a freelance writer and history buff, and a frequent contributor to The Post.
