Dear John Stankey:
We have never met, so you
don’t know a thing about me. You don’t know that as I write this, it is almost
the one-year anniversary of my son’s death. Jonny died a month shy of his twenty-ninth
birthday.
You don’t know that his mother,
his sister, and I recently decided to convert his bedroom—the room in which he
died—into a commemorative room where we could watch hockey, his favorite sport,
as a family.
You cannot possibly know
that Jonny’s hockey sticks and his diploma from Southwestern Law School hang on
the wall, alongside his certificate admitting him to the California State Bar
Association.
And you cannot know that my
daughter, Katie, planned a surprise for me. While Chris and I were out of town,
Katie decided to do all the heavy lifting. She bought a satellite dish and a
50” TV, which she lugged into my son’s room, so that come August, we can watch
the Olympics as a family in Jonny’s room. Come winter, it will be a perfectly
cozy place to watch the hockey season.
There is no reason that you
would know that on Monday morning, I sat in that room and had a really great
cry.
But here is what you do
know: You know that your company’s internal structures have been carefully
crafted to keep all of your employees from bearing responsibility for solving a
customer’s problem. I know that you know this because my daughter, my
assistant, and I have spent about twenty hours of our lives talking to your
employees.
We spoke with Adam from
Pennsylvania, Lee and Cameron from Mississippi, Keith from Oregon, and Peter from
the Philippines. And as my case was handed from one person to the next, I asked
quite a few questions about the structures you have in place for your so-called
customer service.
You see, what you also do
not know about me is that I, too, am the CEO of a company. In fact, I have been
a CEO and named partner for forty years. My firm is not as big as yours. Not
many people know the name Rose, Snyder & Jacobs, but our clients would tell
you that our firm is damn committed to customer service.
I don’t think the same can
be said about your company. Sure, AT&T looks like a corporate success
story. You just bought DirecTV, and that seems to indicate that things are
heading in the right direction.
But your internal structures
are a mess, and your social capital is racing downhill—and fast. Watch out, Mr.
Stankey: You have a train wreck headed your way.
You have already fielded
similar complaints from thousands and thousands of other unhappy customers, so
I won’t bore you with too many of the details of what happened. The short story
is this: Twice, your representatives were supposed to arrive at my house for a
DirecTV service call for the new television that sits in Jonny’s room. Twice,
they didn’t show up during the four-hour window of time that we waited. In
fact, both times, we waited the entire day!
And then, for a total of twenty
hours, I tried to reach a resolution with your office.
Your employees were
extremely pleasant and apologetic. They genuinely felt bad. They wanted to
help. But they had no recourse other than to stick me in the back of the queue.
Even though the AT&T/DirecTV technicians did not arrive during the two
eight-hour windows they were supposed to arrive, my request for service was
stuck at the end of the line. I was being told to start from square one and
wait it out.
This happens all of the time
with AT&T/DirecTV.
But this is where my story
is a little different from the rest.
I am the author of a book
about social, human, intellectual, and structural capital, so I knew what
questions to ask about the structures that a company needs to adequately manage
customer service complaints. In short, I wanted to know the answer to this: What
does AT&T/DirecTV do when it screws up?
Here is what I learned: The
employee on the end of the line who has the most power can credit an account
for $50.
Let me repeat this: The most
empowered customer-service representative can give a customer a $50 credit. He
cannot prioritize a case. He cannot ask a technician to make an immediate
service call. He does not have the ability to get a response from dispatch
about why the screw-up. He does not even have any way of getting in touch with
home office to ask for an exception. They do have an address in Dallas where I,
your valued customer, can mail a complaint. (What are the chances it will be
answered?)
The most-empowered employee
on the end of the line has no ability to take any meaningful action.
Sure, the employees can keep
transferring customer service calls from one person to another, so it appears
as though customer service is a priority. But your process is not built to help
your customers, and you and I both know it.
Mr. Stankey, I am not a
corporate giant. My firm is modest, but here is where it outshines AT&T any
day of the week: We know the importance of honoring clients.
You see, I remember what
happened to AT&T back in 1982. Back then, people had to wait two or three
weeks before they could establish phone service in a new residence. It was
frustrating, but they had no choice. AT&T had acquired Bell Operating
Companies, so customers had no other option but to stand in line. They had no
recourse. AT&T could take its customers money, but it could not provide an
adequate customer service structure.
Then the government stepped
in and forced AT&T to relinquish control of Bell. They wanted customers to
have a choice. When customers have a choice, they tend to take their business
to the companies who will help them.
I have such a company—a
company that helps people. As a result, I am rich in social capital. My
clients, my friends, and my colleagues want to help me. So in the end, I spent
some of my social capital to get your company’s attention. I called a friend,
who called a friend, who called a friend who is a higher-up at DirecTV. This
friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend assured me that someone will be at my home
tomorrow to install my service.
Here is the truth: Even if I
didn’t have connections, I wouldn’t have walked away from DirecTV. I would have
waited it out because my daughter wants to watch the Olympics in her brother’s
room.
But a lot of your other
customers are walking away. They might not have connections like I have, but
they do have choices, like Netflix and Hulu. And you can only lose so many
pebbles before you have no beach left.
Rest up now, Mr. Stankey.
Unless you make some changes, and fast, you have a rough road ahead of you.
Sincerely,
Tony A. Rose, CPA
Rose, Snyder & Jacobs
P.S. I have strong social
capital, and I am certain that there are other people in my circle who are fed
up with your so-called customer service, so I’m sharing my story on twitter as #DirecTVService so that
other people can join the conversation.