Stephen Yeargin

As I frequently find less and less to do on my lunch break lately, I grabbed a copy of CRM Magazine (customer relationship management) to fill the void. A particular article from November of last year (Our break room magazine rack is usually quite a few months behind) titled “Y Me” caught my eye.

Blade Kotelly, director of automated information solutions provider Intervoice Design Collaborative, says that while older generations look for a high level of customer service, Yers are used to impersonal service through the use of email, Web sites, and ATMs. Understanding how a voice-automated message will work is seldom the problem. Kotelly says, “They don’t think that high-touch personal service equals good service for them. They care a lot about efficiency and they kind of trust that the system is going to work. If it doesn’t, they’ll just send a follow-up email.” He also says that Yers pick up systems very quickly. An older person might appreciate the message “Mrs. Johnson, thank you for waiting. What is the expiration date for your credit card? Please enter it at the tone in a month-month, year-year order.” A Gen Yer will prefer, “and the expiration date?”

A perfect example of this came up this week in a letter from our next apartment complex, given to us at the time of turning in our application. Aside from the standard “Hey, this is your address” spiel, it also has a directory of utility services to contact before move-in day.

The first one for BellSouth has an Internet address for a Web site that makes a commission off of each registration they process, and presumably the apartment complex gets a cut from it as well. I doubt the latter point, because upon registration our complex did not even show up on the list. Nevertheless, I complete the application, sans-human interaction.

I am sure I will get at least an awkward phone call tomorrow just to follow-up on my order and to confirm that I did in fact sign up for the cheapest service possible. All is good there.

On the other side of the coin, Comcast (my cable and Internet provider) has this in their faux “chat” system in regards to moving my service:

To move your service to a new location, simply determine if your new address is in an area serviced by Comcast. To do so, enter your new address in our Service Availability Locator. If we find a match in our system, you’ll be localized to your new neighborhood or asked to pick a neighborhood from a short list. Then all you need to do is call 1-800-COMCAST two to four weeks before your move to schedule your installation and disconnection appointments.

Call.

I feel a bit socially awkward for admitting that I loathe phone calls to strangers. It is not so much a product of being reserved, but instead of detesting lousy efficiency. Submitting a request through a Web service (or even a simple e-mail) ensures that the message is clear and concise: I want to move my services to a new address. With a phone call, regardless of the quality of service, I will spend entirely too long on the phone with a representative painstakingly going through a script to accomplish the same goal.

Even if it is straightforward, some marketing dolt has come along and added six or seven “Would you like to upgrade to …” questions. Up-selling is important to the function of a successful business, but that does not mean I necessarily enjoy it. I find myself patiently waiting for the salesperson to finish speaking, and then pick an off-the-shelf “No thanks” to meet my end of the conversation.

I, like most “Yers,” prefer speed over courtesy. That does not mean that I only want to do business with machines, but I prefer a no-nonsense approach to selling. If I do not ask for more information, I do not want what ever it is you want to tack on.

Press “5″ or stay on the line to hear this recording again.