Who does not own a cell phone? You hear them ringing when you watch a movie. Sitting in a typical restaurant is like a scene from Saturday Night Live; every third person is talking to someone about something that is annoying to the other patrons. As a frequent flyer, my favorite experience is sitting in wait to board my plane. Men and women talk into their cell phones disclosing confidential and sensitive information about their companies and clients that would have them terminated if known to their employers.
No, these descriptions of the ubiquitous cell phones are not what is on my mind today. What I am interested in today is buying a cell phone or getting service for a cell phone. I am not going to mention my "cellular technology service provider" (notice we don't say "company" any longer) because I fear they will call me on my cell phone!
Recently I went to buy a new cell phone. I wanted to move up the food chain of new and improved cellular technology. As I entered the store, I was greeted by a woman with a pleasant countenance who directed me to a sign-in kiosk. I obediently complied. I gave up my name, cell phone number and other information irrelevant to my visit. It turns out that the kiosk was used to determine what place in line I would be assigned.
Then, while standing in a showroom that gave testimony to breathtaking time-saving technology, I waited and waited and waited. Finally, I heard my name called out. I was greeted by a young fellow who was deeply in need of a personality transplant. He seemed remarkably less human than the kiosk. We went to his standing desk and were separated by his desk and a computer. He stared into the computer screen and began asking me a series of questions, most of which I had provided to the kiosk. Okay, the poor fellow has a job to do. Without his ever making eye contact with me, the divine liturgy of buying cellular technology was in full swing. He worked over his keyboard with such determination. Most of the typing was done without asking any questions. It had a life of its own. He could have been writing the great American novel for all I knew.
Finally, I told him why I was there. Never looking up, he told me I have seventeen options. What do I know? I inquired what he thought might be best for my circumstance? He replied, “. . . How would I know anything about your circumstance?” I guess that is a fair question, but it was not so friendly. I was on the defensive with all of my ignorance in full view. I sucked down my emotions and continued to participate. I made a selection on a par with selecting cantaloupe in the summer. Sometimes it is hard to know if you have made the right selection. One thing is certain, sniffing cell phones does not help one bit.
The purchase was complete . . . sort of. Then the paperwork started. It was printed out of view beneath the computer in the stand up desk. I signed more paperwork than at the closing on my last home. The receipt was three feet long. Then came another three-foot receipt to mail in with a bar code from the package containing my cell phone so I might receive a $50.00 rebate. I get the impression they do not expect people as busy as me to mail too many of these cut-out bar codes and three-foot long receipts very often, or they would simply reduce the price of the cell phone. This is all very much unappreciated.
This experience lasted one hour and fifteen minutes. Remember, I am standing in a cathedral of advanced technology designed to make life more convenient and save time.
So, high technology lives a double life. The engineers of cellular technology have not spent much time engineering their retail stores. I exited the store with a magnificent PDA cell phone combination. Why did I not feel good about my new found technology? The answer is simple. For one hour and fifteen minutes, I was treated like I was an inanimate object . . . not a human being. This second life of the technology industry should change. In fact, the company that learns how to treat customers like human beings is likely to grow like a weed, even if they do not have the absolute best cell phone. Maybe I am just too sensitive. Maybe I am right.
Jan Jennings
Republished with permission from the Hospital News Group
No comments:
Post a Comment