Sometimes, it pays to bypass the forms, fields and frequent frustrations of a website.
I recently called Telus, after learning from a friend who lives in the small town I’m moving to, that she, in fact, has a Telus internet connection. I spoke to a professional, efficient, courteous person who took the particulars of my new place down and casually informed me that I was “all set.” Just like that.
We went over the details: X amount for three months, then Y amount after; a bundled price because Telus is the only company I’ve ever used for cell service and that’s going back about a decade and the installation will be free on Z date. Oh, and he also told me what my expected upload and download speeds would be. We didn’t miss much. Then, we went over the details again because it’s not my first rodeo. I hung up happy to have at least this one moving thing ironed out.
Minutes later, a confirmation email of our new agreement appeared in my inbox: X had jumped 33.3 per cent (X+) and Y had ratcheted up 28 per cent (Y+). Time to ride the bull.
Eschewing my desire to rant at someone, however nice they may be, I decided, this time, to use the chat feature on the Telus site where I could clearly lay out my case without being roped into an emotional ride. I waited for 21 others at the chat gate but probably needed that time. One of the first ways this new person (I assume it was a person but AI is becoming really advanced) chose to deal with my initial concern re: price was to introduce a new topic to discuss. I was polite about this but pointed out that horse had left the barn.
The next way my price concern was dealt with was to say, “… it was noted here that you were offered X+/month and Y+/month..”
Nope, I really wasn’t.
As I mentioned, I was offered X and then Y, which I reiterated adding, “Please fix.”
Eight minutes passed at this point… I began to curse myself for not using a digital recorder with my “all set” representative. I was still on the defensive when the chat screen told me what I looking at in the email was the “unbundled” price.
“So, my bill will be X and Y, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
And there we go. End of story. Except it’s not.
Quote a price, confirm the price and then deliver the product. Missing any of these steps means business isn’t getting done right. By sending an email with incorrect information (to a new-to-this-service customer, no less) Telus forced me to engage its employees in pointless communication. As a communications company, they need to know that and fix it. It’s literally costing them money and me time.
And so, when I finally closed the chat window (after the print button, supposedly there to provide me with a copy of the chat, failed to work and I had to screenshot the conversation) and a message appeared asking if I’d participate in a survey regarding the chat experience… well, I had to click that, didn’t I? It’s not like they’re reading the blog.
A bright spot in this tidbit of temporary frustration: the original “all set” representative left me a voicemail shortly after the chat ended, assuring me of X and Y. I’m certain that wasn’t a required part of the job and hope he wasn’t pressured to do it or got in any trouble. From my perspective, he did his part perfectly.