Candid Conversations with Customer Service

With three small children I rely on being able to multitask. So I knew it was going to be a rough week in The Crib when the dishwasher decided to self-immolate on Tuesday. Whether it did it as a form of protest to its life of indentured servitude or as an extreme political statement against the tyranny of the fridge I do not know. Suffice it to say the dishwasher is no longer fulfilling it’s singular purpose anymore. It’s not until they inconvenience you that you really begin to appreciate how convenient these modern conveniences are. Or how they help you accomplish more than one thing at a time.

So when Mr. Kenmore Elite started giving off the distinctive aroma of burning plastic when running a wash cycle I knew we had a problem. Cue Daddy to call in the reinforcements. In the meantime, I would have to deal with dishpan hands for a day or two until we get this resolved. I mean, how bad could it be?

Oh, It could be very very bad. The reinforcements arrived on Thursday to assess the situation. This revealed that, not only had the wiring inside the door burnt, but the control panel is also corroded and likely faulty. But hey, it’s only a 4-year-old machine so this should be covered under warranty, right? Right??? Wrong. Not only will it cost hundreds of dollars to repair, it’s going to take a week for the parts to arrive. Time to haul out our best “stern mommy” voice and call customer service.

Naturally, this leads me through the 5 Stages of Customer Service Grief.

Denial: What do you mean it’s no longer covered under warranty!?
Anger: I want to speak to your supervisor!!
Bargaining: Well, can you at least cover the cost of the parts?
Depression: I’m going to have to handwash my dishes for a week until the parts arrive. *sigh*
Acceptance: Sure, lets make an appointment to have the technician come to fix it next week.

So it was during my third call to Customer Service, right around the Bargaining phase that I had the following conversation. I get forwarded to the Parts Department. Dave comes on the phone.

Dave: Hi there, this is Dave. I see you’re having a problem with your dishwasher and it’s no longer under warranty…. What’s that whirring noise in the background?

Me: Uh….  it’s a… a…uh, motor. Not to worry.

Dave: Oh. Okay. Let me just put you on hold while I check on the availability of those parts. [pause on hold]. Okay the control board is available but the wiring harness needs to be shipped from here in Belleville…  That motor in the background sounds like one of those purring robotic cats (Huh!?!). What is that?

Me: It’s my breast pump, Dave.

Dave: Whoa! Oh! Okay! …I am turning beet red right now!

Me: Hehe…I’m sure you are, Dave.

Dave: Hahaha! Well, I am embarrassed.

Me: Don’t be. I have three little kids, Dave, so I always need to multitask.

But here’s the real beauty of my conversation. Now Dave really wants to help me. He gets where I’m coming from. We have rapport. He tells me how his wife had trouble breastfeeding. I tell him I had tremendous challenges nursing my oldest. He’s going to see if he can get the parts expedited. And he’ll ensure the repair man sees that the cost of the parts are being covered by the company. That one embarrassing little interchange got me farther to resolving my issue than any other snippy, snarky or snide comment I had previously had with the organization.

Oh – and, of course, as all good companies do, they record their customer service calls for quality assurance. I’m guessing this makes it to the gag reel for the Christmas party.

In the meantime, I’ll be getting in touch with my inner Mennonite and handwashing my dishes – while I pump, of course.