Off the Cuff: Colliding with a star in customer service

Keep the customer satisfied" is a motto that's probably been branded on the mind of every salesman, agent and firm that's engaged in buying and selling.

Salesmen, I'm sure, spend hours of private time perfecting the art of smiling the winning smile (when truly they'd rather be grimacing), for customers are by and large a dissatisfied lot. We want what we want when we want it, and when we acquire it, it better function as it should and last as long as the guarantee given, if not longer.

Such is the thinking induced, quite rightly I agree, by the parting with hard-earned cash. Which brings me to my own experience as a (tentatively apprehensive) buyer last Friday. It was a web cam I was looking for, and had saved towards (several "Cuffs" worth). I had settled on one in the higher-price range, deciding that the lower-end ones weren't worth considering. I had had the opportunity to assess the quality of two low-priced cams at the houses of two friends. I was distinctly unimpressed; those were rather spectral experiences, like looking at the outlines of human shapes in a sandstorm, or a blizzard, take your pick.

So, after having carried out a quick spot of market surveying (keeping the heat in mind) I took a taxi to the store of my choice and picked the selected package off the shelf. At the counter, when exchanging my cash for a receipt I casually asked the cash-person what was required in the event of an "instrument malfunction".

"Bring the invoice along with the instrument" she responded, albeit monotonously, already looking past my shoulder to the next person in line.

That bored response could mean two things, I remember thinking: she's either been asked that question a hundred times today, or she's so assured of the quality of the stuff it's simply not worth wasting energy over. Anyway, off I went home to do the installation, which worked like a dream until I arrived at the stage which says "Plug in your camera". Which I did, this being a perfectly simple operation even for one as technologically illiterate as myself. Nothing happened. I uninstalled and reinstalled. Nothing happened again. So an hour later I was riding a taxi back to the store of my choice.

"How old is your laptop?" was the first question Customer Service threw at me. "Relatively new," I responded, trying to work out its age quickly. "If it's more than a year old then the USB cable for this camera might not be compatible with your USB port," said Customer Service, "What I suggest is you get yourself an adaptor. We don't sell it here but you can try Radio Shack."

Five minutes later, at Radio Shack, I encountered the Ferrari of all shop assistants. Taha, his name. He first looked doubtful about the other store's theory of USB cable incompatibility.

Then, most cheerfully, he proceeded to attach the web cam I had purchased to two of his laptops in the store and check it out for me, talking me through various details as though I was the only one there.

This, despite it being a Friday evening when nearly everybody and his uncle was out shopping. I was singularly impressed, not only with his enthusiasm, but by his attitude to the customer.

This man's not only honest, I thought, (he could have sold me a connector and sent me on my way), but he's focused on the job he's doing. And the irony of it all is that I wasn't even his customer.

On a scale of 10, I awarded him 20, returned to the "store of my choice", told Customer Service the cam had a problem and got it replaced.

The replaced one works splendidly. Taha was right about the USB ports and I think I owe him a lunch and my personal thanks sometime when he's not giving one of his customers his undivided attention. May his tribe increase.