Customer service, right up the ‘ol kiosk |
I’m looking forward to heading out tomorrow for the GEL Conference (Good Experience Live) in New York, an eclectic gathering of movers and shakers interested in all things related to creativity and customer experience. The events should be great, and who knows, maybe my hotel will be great too. I’ve heard that’s possible.
On my last business trip, I was confronted with one of those “what do I do now?” moments while trying to depart the downtown Hyatt in Atlanta. My usual mode of egress from hotels is to leave the keys in the room and walk out the front, figuring they won’t forget to update and send me a final bill.
On this morning, however, I decided to give the shiny new “Self Express Check-In and Check-Out” kiosk a try. After all, there’s no waiting, a cool touch screen, and the word “express” in the title. What an incredibly logical approach to customer service! Besides, our company, Vox, has been getting more involved with new technology that improves customer experience, so it’s field research.
As I started punching my name and other basic info in, I noticed that the screen was not necessarily configured properly. One had to lean down hard and maintain pressure for a letter to register, but hold down a micro-second too long and two letters popped up, requiring a painful delete procedure. Also the alignment was off, requiring a distinct prejudice of the user’s finger slightly to the northwest of the actual letter.
Slowly, I struggled through the process. I wanted to abandon this terror machine, but now it had part of my information – I was halfway checked out – and there was no off ramp. The choice popped up for a printed statement or to have it emailed. I immediately hit the email option, wanting to avoid trying to figure out just where and when the printed statement might be dispensed.
The evil screen politely requested that I enter my email address. Dang! I was low on oxygen, but knew I must be near the summit of this customer service ascent. With my last bit of strength, I punched down on the “m” for bill.cusick@voxinc.com. I had finished! I could now walk out the door and leave this cursed lobby.
The screen blipped for a second, and then it seemed that I could hear the devil laughing as the kiosk pushed the dagger in: “please confirm by reentering your email address.”
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
