Barlow's Beef: Dumbing down customer service

I purchased a bag of dog food this morning and the bill came to £15.50.

I handed over a £20 note. The shop assistant checked her till and asked if I would take small change as she had no pound coins.

"Do you have a fiver?" I enquired.

She nodded and I handed over a 50pence piece.

She glared at it as though it was a sliver of plutonium.

"What do I do now?" she asked.

"Just give me a £5 note."

She bent under the counter and produced a notepad and scribbled furiously for a couple of minutes before calling her supervisor.

"She's new," he said by way of explanation. I was tempted to ask whether she was new to the store or basic arithmetic. I resisted (no-one likes a smart-ass).

I bought a sofa from a well-known store a couple of months ago and the carrier called to arrange delivery.

I was told to give two dates when I was at home. Both delivery dates were unavailable and the carrier asked me to provide two more. Imagine my surprise when these dates were also rejected.

I called the carrier and asked when they could deliver.

"Our system doesn't work like that?"

"Exactly how does it work?" I asked somewhat little bemused.

"You give us your availability and we enter it in the computer."

"Unless it can't do it..."

"Yes, that's right, unless it can't do it."

"Why don't we ask the computer what dates it can't do and then I'll choose another one."

"We don't have a facility for that."

So we played guessing games until it finally suited the computer.

I then ran into a problem with my credit card. Surely my bank would provide a more professional response?

I called customer service and explained to a very nice young man in Delhi my predicament. He asked if I wanted to increase my credit limit but as I was unable to use it at all an increased limit was somewhat irrelevant.

This proved something of a problem as 'your cash machines keep spewing out my card' was clearly untranslatable.

"Is there anything more I can help you with," he asked.

Despite his considerable efforts he hadn't actually been able to 'help me' with anything so I politely declined.

Later that day I visited my bank and queued diligently in line for a teller.

"I'm afraid I don't handle credit card queries" she explained, "But if you lift the phone at the end of the counter someone will assist you."

I picked up the phone as instructed and to my utter astonishment found myself talking to... a very nice young man in Delhi.

So, here I was standing in the bank I've used for 30 years and the only person capable of solving a small account query was 6,637 miles away in the Indian subcontinent reading from a script.

My erstwhile competent bank manager no longer fitted the 'business model' and was put out to grass and replaced by an Indian schoolboy. It wasn't his fault he knew nothing about Cheshire or me. It's just the way my bank manages its affairs.

Is this the age of the clueless?

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of alderleyedge.com.

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Vic Barlow