She who dares, wins shoes – as I found out this week. The training manager decided that it would be a good idea if the team managers did their bit to improve the bank's level of customer service. My task was to "listen in" on calls to the customer relationship management team, and report back on the level of performance.
The first call involved a young girly in the team bitching to her mate about the "major" decision of having to choose her meal now for our Christmas party. After 27 minutes of deliberation, she proclaimed: "It's impossible. How am I supposed to know what diet I'll be on then?"
Next was some old duffer private banker calling to discuss his client's investments. He didn't know the answers to the security questions and ended up ranting. He was shouting so loudly, the team manager gave him a verbal warning to shut up or have the call terminated. Old Duffer wheezed: "If you deprive me of servicing my client, I'll report you to the MD, who I played golf with once." The manager wasn't fazed and said: "Poor you," before disconnecting.
Hoping the next call would be an improvement, I tuned in to hear a swaggering male voice demanding that Diet Girl tell him what the endless fees were for on his account. Diet Girl explained: "Oh, they're for all of the small trades we've performed." Swagger Man retaliated: "But the value of my portfolio hasn't changed."
Little did he know that this is the practice of "churning", whereby banks generate income from fees for performing small trades that have zero benefit to the client. Diet Girl had a different take. "Serves him right for having so much money," she sniped.
My time wasn't wasted though, as the final call proved. I heard a girl on a personal call telling her mate that her online members' concierge club had a pair of Patrick Cox Tiziana shoes for sale at only £325. In a size five. As only 20 pairs were ever made, she was about to snap them up.
I contacted the club. After paying the joining fee of £450, and the annual membership of £750, I bought the pair from under her feet, and had them delivered to my office. Now, that's what I call service.
Friday 16th November, 2007 posted by City Girl
The London Paper