As I mentioned in the last post, customer service calls to cancel your service are pretty much the easiest experience you can have when you mention you're going on a trip around the world for a year.
Instead of a call where they refer you to their "customer retention" unit, which focusses on giving you incentives to stay, the realize that there's nothing they can say or do to foist a service on you that you won't be able to use. It's a crappy job, especially when you're dealing with hot-headed complainants who want you to do something you can't do, so I try and pepper the call with praise for the employee, as well as being the caller they just want to help because I'm so charming.
Recently I have cancelled a few things: an AMEX Accident Protection plan we were thinking of using to act as Health Insurance (interesting, but not worth it in the end), our internet service, and our phone service. Having done a brief (thankfully, brief) stint in telemarketting, I know they work on a script philosophy, where every situation is mapped out for them on a flowchart so they know how best to service the customer's needs. The greeting and sign-off are also carefully worded to infuse the text with the company's chosen method of branding and flavour of corporate spirit. It's important that the employee recite the text exactly, because the calls are recorded.
Bell seems to have taken the script approach to new heights. My call went something like this:
After holding for about eight minutes and being informed that my call would be recorded for quality assurance purposes, and information would be retained according to their privacy policy, available online for my viewing at www.bell.ca/privacy... I'm not making this up.
Customer Service Representative (CSR): Thank you for calling Bell, my name is Samantha and my customer service number is THX1138, what Bell services can I help you with today?
Me: Wow, that's quite a mouthfull. Hi Samantha, my wife and I are going to be leaving the country for a year and we won't be taking our home phone with us. We have to cancel our service.
Samantha: No problem, I can definitely help you with that...
The standard interrogation in which I report to her our account details, address, everything to make sure I am who I say I am.
Samantha: So you're looking to cancel your service... can I ask why you need to cancel?
Me: Sure. We're going on a trip around the world, and we won't need a phone at home for that.
Samantha: WOW... that sounds amazing! Where are you going?
By now, we've told so many people about this trip that I can recite it from rote the countries we're going to, but for some reason I completely botched it here. I figured it really didn't make a difference, and it's a fun conversation to have, especially when her last caller probably went on and on about how expensive voice mail was.
Samantha: Okay... so I can do that for you...
She gave me a confirmation number for the cancellation: anyone calling us at home after 8 AM on the 27th of August will now be greeted by an automated voice saying the phone's out of service. Take that, telemarketters!
Now for the best part: the closing. For a cancellation request, someone in the script writing department has got to get on the ball here to give them some new pages.
Samantha: So your cancellation has been processed. Wow... a year around the world. I hope you have an excellent time.
Me: Thanks! I hope we do, too.
Samantha: Are there any other Bell services I can help you with today?
Me: Um, no, I think that's the only one I need to cancel.
Samantha: Alright, well thanks for choosing Bell.
Thanks for choosing Bell? In retrospect, I guess the script works pretty well - "thanks for having chosen Bell" is implied there - but I know that message is supposed to mean, "thanks for choosing us over the other guys", and by cancelling my service, haven't I just dumped you? I mean, this is akin to the breakup of a loveless marriage; a note left on the kitchen counter, "It's not you, Bell - it's me." I guess it's one of those breakups where we just stopped calling each other and drifted apart, which is, I suppose, exactly the case here.
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