Nagging Doubt

Enough with the surveys, already!

Every business transaction these days ends with a plea to fill out a survey. Whether it’s customer support, an on-line purchase, or a hotel from which I just checked out, an email swiftly pops up asking me how I felt about the experience.

I usually ignore them, but I sifted through my mailbox yesterday and figured I’d better give these self-doubting ninnies some positive reinforcement. I don’t want anyone biting their fingernails because I decided to blow them off. I might be ruining somebody’s good night’s sleep.

After rendering close to twenty opinions, I took a rest. Then I idly thought about asking someone how I did at telling everyone how they did. But I feared doing so might unleash an avalanche of people asking each other how they were doing at telling each other how they were doing, kind of a pyramid of insecurity. So, I thought I’d better just zip my lip and live with the fact that I may only be “all right“ at it. Accept that I’m a 5 out of 10. Be satisfied, not very satisfied or extremely satisfied. Content.

However, I couldn’t help but think, “What’s with this sudden ubiquitous need for acceptance? Kind of risky, isn’t it?

To wit, we have a dishwasher that has been acting up. Water often remains in the basin after use. It’s over ten years old and has gotten plenty of use so I went online to shop for a possible replacement. I saw a Bosch for $649. That’s cheap for such a well-regarded brand. I glanced at the reviews, and everyone was delighted for how quiet it was. A few people however had regrets. One mentioned that water remained in the basin. Doh! I thought our problem might be solved. Now? Not so much.

Many of the great reviews started with a disclaimer: “This review was collected as part of a promotion.” But after those were plenty of not-so glowing reviews.

“It is hard to load this dishwasher. There should have been more flexible or foldable tines.” That was the first time I heard the word “tines” used in a sentence, so I read on. “The silverware basket is huge and takes up precious space, not flexible or split-able.” Then this: “The dishwasher is also about 2" less deep than other manufacturers. This makes for constrained loading and cramped interior.” Oh, crap! Forget it.

My point is that if you start asking people how you’re doing, you might be asking for trouble. I’ve been married to the same woman for 35 years. Never once have I asked her, “So, how am I doing? Knowing what you know now, what are the chances you’d marry me all over again? Would they be likely, very likely, extremely likely, or …

A) I’d run for the hills as fast as I could.

B) Move to a foreign country and live under an assumed name.

C) Fake my own death.

D) All of the above.

If I’m not satisfied with a product or a service, I will not become a repeat customer. It doesn’t matter how many questionnaires you send. In fact, if I’m dissatisfied, your survey is only going tick me off. Now on top of disappointing me, you’re annoying me.

The bigger question is “Why are you so eager to know?” Does my opinion really count? Are you actively looking to improve the customer experience? To be frank, I prefer to do business with people who already know what they’re doing and don’t have to come whining to me, “Is everything okay?”

Does every transaction automatically come with membership to a focus group? I’m already a customer why do you keep following me like a stray dog? I’d be bugging the customers who have come to you, unsolicited, with complaints. Those are the butts that need kissing and squeaky wheels that need greasing.

So, let’s leave good enough alone. Let sleeping dogs lie. Don’t rock the boat. Keep your head held up high. All this whining? It’s not a good look. I’d give it a 2 out of 10.