Customer Service: Kisses from Amazon; spankings from Virgin Atlantic

July 9th, 2008 by Nan Dawkins

I sent my three year old grand nephew a little present from Amazon recently. I called him on the phone and told him it was coming, so he was in a high state of anticipation when the delivery man rang the doorbell. Unfortunately, when he ripped open the box he did not find the very cool toy I sent to him. Instead, he found granite cleaner. Since the toy was intended as a reward for being good on a recent airplane trip, the granite cleaner was a bit like getting a lump of coal in the Christmas stocking. Needless to say, my nephew was not amused. Neither was I.

I headed to the Amazon site and hit “Where’s My Stuff.” Amazon was showing that the toy had been delivered. After poking around for a couple of minutes and trying unsuccessfully to complete a complaint form, I found the “Call Me Now” option and tried it. Sure enough, someone from Amazon called me within about 30 seconds. I explained the situation and the Amazon customer service rep assured me that my nephew would have his car within two days (at no extra charge). Great! And the granite cleaner? Please don’t make me tell his parents that in addition to the very loud, obnoxious toy I just sent, they now have to load a monster box of granite cleaner down to the post office and send back to Amazon. Normally, yes. If the wrong item is delivered, Amazon requires that it be sent back within thirty days. However (given that my order was a gift and the recipient was barely three), Amazon’s customer service rep good-naturedly agreed to waive that policy.

I love Amazon. They get things right 99% of the time and when they don’t, they fix it. More importantly, they treat me like I matter as a customer. With Amazon, I get kissed. Not spanked.

Compare to Virgin Atlantic. Recently, I had the unfortunate luck of getting stuck in economy seats on Virgin Atlantic from Heathrow to Washington Dulles. I was bummed about flying economy, but I really like flying out of London Heathrow because I can buy champagne and caviar in the terminal to consume in-flight. These little champagne and caviar picnics have become a tradition for me and my husband when we fly out of Heathrow.

Alas, this time when we opened our champagne, the Virgin Atlantic flight attendant came over and told us that we were not allowed to pour for ourselves. She explained that Virgin Atlantic likes to ensure that passengers do not get drunk while on transatlantic flights. Ok, I guess that makes sense, but really – is it possible for two people to get drunk on a HALF split of champagne? And why haven’t the flight attendants in Premier done this in the past? We’ve enjoyed our caviar and champagne picnics when we were sitting in Premier on Virgin Atlantic at least a half a dozen times without any hassle.

Sorry, the ultra-responsible flight attendant informed us. Rules are rules. No exceptions. (In other words, please don’t whine while I deliver your spanking). So, she took our tiny, half split of champagne and insisted on serving us a teaspoonful at a time. I can’t tell you how enjoyable it was to take a bite of caviar and then have to push the call button to get a swallow of champagne to wash it down with. Amazing, isn’t it? Instead of letting us slide with our tiny, half bottle of champagne (focusing instead on managing a jam packed flight?), the Virgin Atlantic attendant went out of her way to do something that was both unnecessary AND irritated the customer.

This little incident didn’t cost us any money, we weren’t stuck in an airport for hours because of delays –none of the normal airline complaints that cause people to launch an online attack. However, it sent a clear message, i.e., “You, the customer, do not matter. Sit down, shut up and smile when you pay us.” No one likes to be treated that way. Why don’t companies get this?

Virgin Atlantic certainly doesn’t — and it shows in their search results. If VA doesn’t fix their customer service problems, even the best social media campaigns on the planet won’t help them.

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