Consumer rant #4: The camouflaged opt-in

We really shouldn’t sign a document unless we’ve read and understood it. That, at least, is the theory. In practice though, we often end up scribbling our signature on something after, at best, a quick read-through.

About a week ago, I was at the Nokia Care centre in Trivandrum to try and fix my mobile phone. It was a busy day at the service centre — I spent about 30 minutes waiting for my turn at the counter. Once I’d explained what the problem was, I was told that I’d have to turn in my phone for it to be fixed. Then came a version of 20 Questions, including demands for my telephone number and e-mail address.

Questions answered, I was given a couple of forms/work orders and told “sign there and there”. I skimmed through the forms, but there seemed to be nothing alarming in them. So I signed, left and forgot all about the forms.

Early this week I was told my phone had been fixed and that I could pick it up. It was while I was at the service centre, waiting to pick up my phone that I actually read my copy of the form/work order. And that’s when I discovered that in one section of the form, I had actually agreed to let Nokia contact me with information on special deals, quizzes and so on. Now that is not something I would sign up for — ever.

Nokia is a brand I have a great deal of affection for. Like many others in India, my first mobile phone was a Nokia. Three-quarters of the mobile phones in our house are Nokias. That, however, does not mean that I want marketing messages from the company texted or e-mailed to me.

As I picked up my (repaired) phone, I asked the person at the delivery counter to modify my work order so that my name would be taken-off the company’s marketing list. I also asked her two questions: Why did the work order ask customers to agree to receive marketing messages? And why hadn’t I been told that I was also agreeing to receive marketing messages from the company when I signed the service centre’s work order? She hummed and hawed, and didn’t really give me an answer.

The answer is, perhaps, that in these times of ‘do not disturb’ registries and tough markets, opt-in marketing is a necessity. Something that many companies work into their marketing strategy. I understand that. However, isn’t informed consent a must for opt-in marketing?

I agree I made a mistake. I should have read the form/work order properly before signing it. At the same time, shouldn’t the person at the service centre have flagged it for me? Shouldn’t I have been told that along with agreeing to the service conditions, I was also agreeing to receive marketing messages from the company? Shouldn’t I have also been told that this was, presumably, completely voluntary?

Perhaps Nokia’s marketing policy does insist that informed consent should be obtained from customers. If it does, then that policy is merrily being flouted, at least by the company’s service centre in Trivandrum. Will the company fix this? I have no idea.

What I know though is that I’ve re-learnt an important lesson: Always read and understand something before signing it. I may sign on to receive information on special deals, but it will only be after I’ve read and understood what I’m signing on for.

Consumer rant #3: How can I ‘rely’ on them?

The stunts companies pull! All to ‘serve the customer’. Like this large telecom company that is my ‘Internet on the go’ service provider.

A few days ago — on April 23 to be precise — I got my monthly bill. Along with it came a sheet of discount coupons. Problem is:

a. Half the coupons on the sheet are for use only in Tamil Nadu. And I live in Kerala. So those coupons are useless.

b. All the coupons were valid only till March 31 this year. And I got them on April 23, three weeks after they have lost any utility.

I know that customer service is an oxymoron in India’s telecom industry. But I can’t help wonder what the purpose of this whole ‘privileges’ exercise was. As any basic book on marketing would declare, it’s not a very bright idea to offer consumers promotions they cannot use; you’d probably end up pissing them off.

Of course it could all have been the result of a ‘system error’, as this other experience with the same company shows.

Over the past three-four weeks I’ve received three calls from the company’s customer care executives wanting to know if I would like to upgrade to a faster ‘Internet on the go’ package. Each time it sounded like I was talking to the same customer care executive, and each time my answer was ‘no thank you’.

Logically, my first ‘no’ should have been captured by the company’s computer system and should have prevented follow-up calls. At least, follow-up calls over consecutive weeks.

So when I got the third call I asked the guy at the other end why the company was calling me a third time when I’d already said no twice. There was a moment of silence, followed by the cover-all answer: “Your ‘no’ is not showing up in the system.” Some system that, not to have got my ‘no’ twice!

Perhaps it’s just that the company’s marketing strategy hinges on the  ‘pester someone sufficiently and they’ll agree to anything just to get rid of you’ philosophy. Oh, and I got another call — the fourth one — yesterday offering to upgrade my Internet connection. I wonder when they’ll give up.

Consumer rant #2: Mind your language

Beats me, some of the ‘customer friendly’ things companies do.

My bank, for instance, has a language option on its customer care telephone helpline in Kerala. You can choose to speak to the bank’s customer care team in English or Malayalam. A useful option, I’d say.

So I call the bank a few weeks ago and choose the ‘English’ option. I’m connected to a male voice that greets me in Malayalam. Thinking I’ve chosen the wrong option, I ask if it’s the number that connects me to an English speaker. “Yes,” he tells me, and continues to ask how he can help me — all in Malayalam. “Shouldn’t you be speaking to me in English,” I ask and am met with a moment of silence, before he goes on again — in Malayalam — about how he can help me. I give up and continue the conversation in Malayalam.

A few days later I call the bank and go through the same bizarre exercise again. Except this time, it’s a female voice at the other end.

Now I have nothing against Malayalam or any other language. But when you offer the customer the option of speaking to someone in a particular language, shouldn’t you deliver on that, every time?

So why is it that my bank couldn’t get this seemingly simple ‘customer friendly’ measure right? And if it can’t get it right, why doesn’t it scrap it altogether? All possible explanations are welcome.

Meet the System

There’s a new deity in the Indian Pantheon: the ‘System’. Also known as the computer or the computer network.

It is omnipresent and spans all aspects of our lives. Whatever the System says, we hear and obey. We exist only if the System says we do. We could be alive and kicking, and bawling out loud for that matter, but it becomes real only when the System acknowledges it.

The System has many forms — avatars as it were. One such avatar is the much-loved Orrtell, which provides mobile telephone services to deserving Indians.

The Boss

Late last Saturday evening, I got a text from beloved Orrtell telling me that I was “nearing your Fixed credit limit” and that the “usage amount does not include monthly charges, roaming usage & discounts”.

One look at this text, and I my knees turned to jelly. I mean, I was “nearing” my “Fixed credit limit” and if I didn’t send some monetary offerings Orrtell’s way, the System could bring the wrath of the Gods and nameless other beings down on my head.

So I quickly scurried over to the nearest Orrtell Relationship Centre (ORC), where a warm and welcoming relationship management acolyte (RM acolyte) accepted my piffling monetary tribute to the System.

In its munificent magnificence, the System gave me a little gift — a slip of paper acknowledging my monetary tribute. I held that scrap of paper close to my heart, for now no one could torment me with threats of “nearing your Fixed credit limit”.

But I was getting too uppity. And so, on Monday morning, the System came down hard. As I struggled to battle the ‘beginning of the week blues’ with some apple juice, the System intoned via a text: “Your Postpaid Bill Pay was not processed. Trans ID: 123456789.”

Panic. “Why me? What did I do?” “Please System, forgive me my sins, whatever they are.”

Then, a sliver of rational thought squirmed up through the dread: “But I have the gift that the System gave me on Saturday evening. That slip of paper.”

That stiffened my resolve a little and I called the sainted helpline 121 — aka Orrtell Customer Care — where I was told that I’d be charged “50 paise for every 4 minutes” I spoke to one of the System’s RM acolytes. I pressed ahead, selecting the option that would connect me to an English-speaking RM acolyte. And an acolyte eventually answered, but in Malayalam. “Never mind,” I thought, “at least I get to speak to an acolyte.”

Bubbling with enthusiasm that could only have been feigned, the acolyte remarked that it was my first call to 121.

“Is that a mistake,” I wondered and the panic attacks were back with a vengeance. I quickly stumbled through a spiel about money paid and acknowledgment slips and all that.

“But the System does not show you paid anything on Saturday,” declared the bubbly RM acolyte.

Crushed by the System’s divine betrayal, I whispered: “But I did pay. I have the receipt.”

Oozing graciousness, bubbly acolyte chirped: “Your last payment was several weeks ago, something like 2,000 rupees. That’s what the System says.”

“What do I do now,” I queried.

“Go to the ORC. They may have a solution for you,” declared the RM acolyte.

So overwhelmed was I at this straw thrown my way, that I ended the call even as the RM acolyte rattled off something about hoping that I was happy with his responses and whether he could help me with anything else.

Off I went, back to the ORC. The chirpy RM acolyte there actually threw a smile my way and even nodded in recognition. Before I could get a word in, he said:

“The System is not accepting your payment.”

“So what now? Will the System block calls to my number since I’ve now probably exceeded the ‘Fixed credit limit’,” I asked.

“Not to worry,” was the confident response. “The System will take care of everything.”

“But… suppose… they cut,” I stuttered.

“The System will take care of it,” he repeated. And then, in a gesture of great generosity, the RM acolyte gave me his ‘personal mobile number’ to call if there was an emergency.

“So you will help, if the System blocks calls,” I exclaimed in relief.

He smiled beatifically, ushering me out.

As I stepped out of the ORC, my phone chimed.

A text message, from the System: “Thank you for calling Orrtell. Hope your query has been solved to your satisfaction.”

Several hours later, another text message popped up: “Thank you for payment of Rs 1,234. Your e-receipt number is 1234567”

The System had accepted my little offering. Bliss, for now.

PS: Any resemblance to anything or anyone living, dead or in-between is a coincidence and will be attributed to the System.