Roofing contractors > wool shop lady
An Australian celebrity (for want of a better word) has allegedly assaulted his girlfriend and she has responded, quite rightly, by taking out an Apprehended Violence Order (AVO) on him. Today's paper reported this with the tactful headline: Girlfriend slaps AVO on Newton. Sigh. Perhaps not the most appropriate choice of words in the circumstances.
Today I have been thinking about customer service. We had a storm a few weeks ago that damaged the verandah roof. It was only an outside roof, so it was marked down to be done after more urgent, emergency jobs. Still, not even two weeks later, it's done, and the whole process was so easy. It went: day one, a call to the insurers; day two, a visit from their roofing contractors to do a quote; day three, a call from the insurers to say the quote had been approved; wait a week; yesterday, I got a call from the contractors at 8am to say they were coming at 9 and would be done by lunch; today, I got a call from their supervisor to say he was coming to check their work, and he was here twenty minutes later. He also gave me a customer satisfaction form to fill out, asking if I was happy with their work and their communication with me. I gave them top marks all the way through because they were the most organised and punctual tradespeople I've ever met. I was so impressed.
After I had finished talking to the roofing man, I went to buy some wool for a baby jumper I'm knitting. I went to the specialist wool shop in town, rather than Spotlight or Lincraft (national craft chainstores), because the wool shop has a better selection of products and I like to support small local traders where possible. The wool shop lady does make it hard though. The shop is a narrow, poky, little place, lined with shelves, with bags of wool just stuffed in and spread out on the floor. The woman sits behind the counter at the far end of the shop; she didn't get up when I came in, although she did ask if I was looking for anything. I said I was after some 8-ply wool and she pointed out which shelves to look in. So I poked around for a while, trying not to make even more of a mess than there already was, and I asked her if she had any more of a particular colour. So she got up (I have always wondered if maybe she was in a wheelchair, but apparently not) and went out the back to have a look, coming back to say, 'Sorry, love,' before sitting back down again. I mean, I don't necessarily want a hard sell, but telling me that the range was discontinued or she was going to do another order at the end of the week would have been nice. It makes me sad, really, because it could be such a nice little shop.
Today I have been thinking about customer service. We had a storm a few weeks ago that damaged the verandah roof. It was only an outside roof, so it was marked down to be done after more urgent, emergency jobs. Still, not even two weeks later, it's done, and the whole process was so easy. It went: day one, a call to the insurers; day two, a visit from their roofing contractors to do a quote; day three, a call from the insurers to say the quote had been approved; wait a week; yesterday, I got a call from the contractors at 8am to say they were coming at 9 and would be done by lunch; today, I got a call from their supervisor to say he was coming to check their work, and he was here twenty minutes later. He also gave me a customer satisfaction form to fill out, asking if I was happy with their work and their communication with me. I gave them top marks all the way through because they were the most organised and punctual tradespeople I've ever met. I was so impressed.
After I had finished talking to the roofing man, I went to buy some wool for a baby jumper I'm knitting. I went to the specialist wool shop in town, rather than Spotlight or Lincraft (national craft chainstores), because the wool shop has a better selection of products and I like to support small local traders where possible. The wool shop lady does make it hard though. The shop is a narrow, poky, little place, lined with shelves, with bags of wool just stuffed in and spread out on the floor. The woman sits behind the counter at the far end of the shop; she didn't get up when I came in, although she did ask if I was looking for anything. I said I was after some 8-ply wool and she pointed out which shelves to look in. So I poked around for a while, trying not to make even more of a mess than there already was, and I asked her if she had any more of a particular colour. So she got up (I have always wondered if maybe she was in a wheelchair, but apparently not) and went out the back to have a look, coming back to say, 'Sorry, love,' before sitting back down again. I mean, I don't necessarily want a hard sell, but telling me that the range was discontinued or she was going to do another order at the end of the week would have been nice. It makes me sad, really, because it could be such a nice little shop.