How many hours is acceptable to spend each year trapped, online or on hold, waiting for a simple query to be answered?
Hours? No way. Days? Maybe. Weeks even.
Didn’t technology promise to be the super enabler, gifting us back time that we could spend with our families or getting fit or just ruminating on all the time we’d saved?
Banking online meant no more trips in the car navigating traffic to the bank. The same applied to paying bills and booking holidays.
Grocery shopping, on our smart devices, meant we didn’t risk being caught up talking to someone in aisle nine on a Thursday night.
More time for everything.
And for a while, it might have even worked.
But over time, call centres have reduced in size, moved overseas, and shopfronts where real people could help us in real life closed down.
Have you tried lately to call your electricity or gas supplier to chat about the looming price rises? Or your telco or broadband supplier? Your insurer? Centrelink? Medicare? The Department of Transport and Main Roads?
If the target of your call is not your current supplier, you’ll get through. Or perhaps you’ll be fielding offers from call centres the world over.
But once they’ve got you, it seems we plummet down the list of priorities.
I’ve battled long on-hold queues with almost all those in the past few weeks – but it was my health fund that takes the gold medal for waiting times.
Indeed, I’m thinking about sending an invoice for the time I’ve wasted listening to sad hold music or sitting, with my phone to the ready, waiting for an online response.
What’s a reasonable time to spend waiting to be answered?
It varies according to country and study and industry and individual, but business etiquette suggests that a customer should not remain dangling beyond two minutes – and studies have found that more than half of customers believe nine minutes on hold is an unacceptable delay.
So how about four days? Because that is the time it took for my query to be answered last week. And to be honest, the answer wasn’t even a resolution.
Last Wednesday – July 12 – I called my private health fund, with a query about a claim – and was quickly directed to its messaging service on WhatsApp.
That’s good, I thought. I don’t have to talk; I can just type.
In a few words, how can we help you today?
I answered immediately. So did my health fund.
Can you please rephrase your questions so we can better assist?
No, I said. It’s not hard. I want help with a specific claim relating to a child.
This was the response: Please clarify. I didn’t understand your response. And then I could choose a topic – none of which matched my query.
Please, I asked, can I talk to someone?
Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Please select from the options below.
Then a while later …
Before we add you to our queue let me get your details for our agents. To start with, may I please get your full name.
Should’t they already know that? They’re my health fund? Wasn’t that the idea of this technology?
Nevertheless, I answered.
Date of birth?
I answered.
Your (private health) number?
Shouldn’t they know that too? I answered.
Thank you, adding you to the queue now.
And then I waited. And waited. And waited.
Indeed, the Moon soon replaced the Sun on Wednesday. Then Thursday passed. And then Friday. Next the weekend arrived. Saturday came and went.
And then Sunday afternoon, a response lights up my smartphone. Finally.
Our current wait times are longer than expected and we appreciate your patience. You’re now connected to an agent: Do you still require assistance?
Yes.
Our current waiting times are longer than expected, and we appreciate your patience …
And then. Welcome to (our) messaging. I’ll be happy to lend a hand today …
Can I speak to you on the phone, I typed with a surge of anticipation, given I’ve been waiting four days?
I’m sorry to hear of the delay. I am unable to call from this messaging service. I am sorry, however, we have a dedicated team of Customer Care specialists to assist with this. Simply fill out a form here …
Close to tears, I gave up. And later, much later, was able to get someone on the phone who was able to send me a claim form.
When I opened it the next morning, it was nothing to do with my case.
Yes, it’s one story – but the experience is so common, we almost expect it. And it’s not good enough.
We spend an estimated three years of our lives washing clothes. Another 35 minutes or so each month is spent queuing, usually in a supermarket. Almost 40 per cent of women spend 40 minutes a day applying make-up.
But we sign up for that. We choose the wash cycle, where and at what time we shop, and how much time we want to spend in front of the mirror.
We don’t sign up to being put on hold. I’d complain if I could – if only someone would take the call.
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