Archives for category: Communication
Always Check Your Comms

Always Check Your Comms

It always pays to check your customer communications before they go out. It’s a good idea to have someone else – ideally someone away from the business – to check the communications, because you’re often too close to it to see a problem.

This is a recent sample of emails in my inbox. One of them is a problem for me. Can you tell which one? [Pauses, for dramatic effect…] It’s the bottom email. I can say with some certainty that there is no chance that this email will make my Dad smile, since he died some years ago and his ashes are probably fertilising a bowling green somewhere in the middle of England.

Had I received this email in the immediate aftermath of his demise, when I was a teary, shambling wreck of a man, I would probably have torched the offices of the people who sent it, and certainly unsubscribed for ever.

Where you can, always try and put yourself in the shoes of the person you’re sending something to, the person you’d like to buy from you. You’re hoping to build a rapport with them, not dash it to pieces in one fell swoop.

When you learn how to write a press release, you’re taught to get the 5 W’s into the first para, because those short-attention-span journalists may not read any further if they don’t get drawn into your story. The 5 W’s are Who, What, When, Where and Why.

It’s still a great guiding principle if you write for the web, as the online world has driven all people’s attention spans down to the length of a journalist’s, with the result that someone else’s content is always a click away.

Of all the W’s, the last one is the most important. On balance, it’s the only one that really matters. The ‘why’ explains the connection.

Consider these questions in the customer context:

  • What’s in it for me?
  • Why should I care?
  • Where is my order? This is otherwise known as WISMO in ecommerce.
  • How could you pull that stunt?

Despite what you might think, these are all why questions. Your customers are not interested in the ‘how’, because that’s generally about you, and that’s not a major concern to them. They generally don’t want to know how you made the meal, or how you built the aeroplane they’re riding in, or how you came to design the software to work that way. They want to know why they’re being charged extra, why the release is late, or why they can’t have it in blue.

I was coming back from the UK the other day on a Ryanair flight. It wasn’t one of those flights in the 93% that arrive on time. It wasn’t close to being on time, it was horrendously late. In fact it was one of the 1% of their flights that was over an hour late. Now this is very unusual for Ryanair, and the first time in probably 50 flights I had been seriously delayed, but it was late on a Thursday evening, the last flight out, and I was tired and irritable.

The trouble was, Ryanair kept delaying the departure time and not saying why. Even an apologetic text to each passenger did not say why the flight was delayed, so you start getting frustrated, and these days that frustration can boil over onto social media so easily. When you trade on your punctuality and you don’t deliver punctuality, you’re a bad flight away from losing a frequent flyer, at least if they have a choice of airlines, which of course is not always the case. Monopolies and near-monopolies in small and developing countries is a topic for another post.

When we finally got into the plane, the pilot came on the intercom to apologise for the plane running 1 hour and 35 minutes late.  This was because – and ‘because’ is the corollary to the ‘why’ question as you know, dear reader – that the previous plane developed a fault that couldn’t be fixed so they had to despatch a replacement aircraft from Dublin over to the UK to bring us back to Ireland. Well, that’s fair enough, I thought, it happens from time to time, that’s pretty much unavoidable. The frustration soon dissipated after that.

But why on earth did they not come clean with the why sooner? You owe it to your customers to always be transparent and give them the why whenever you can. Early and often is the golden rule, rather like voting in corrupt countries. Your customers will continue to love you for it.

Idiom is great, isn’t it? The kind of collection of words that don’t translate directly into anything meaningful in another language.

There are loads of examples of course. One of my favourites is ‘off by heart’, as in ‘I learnt it off by heart’. Strange that we would choose to say that rather than off by head, brain or memory!

Apparently, those ancient Greeks felt the heart was the home of intelligence. Odd, then, that this phrase seems to have survived a translation into another language, completely discrediting my definition…

This is a topic I’ve written on before, but it’s one I find really interesting and rewarding. One of the things that for me separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is that people we don’t even know will help us out or do us a favour. Often when we least expect it.

My first proper job after college was in Liverpool, where I was a graduate trainee with an insurance company. A bunch of us had started out at the same time, and so we had a ready made social group which tended to make us burn the candle at both ends.

I was taking the local train home one evening, after a particularly long week of ‘word hard, play hard’. Across from me was a bearded man, rough looking and shabby, with a beanie on. The kind of chap you might not sit down next to if faced with a choice of empty seats.

My regular train ride home was about 20 minutes, so I risked a tiny bit of shut-eye, as I’m a very light sleeper. The next thing I knew, I got a tap on the knee from the guy across from me, who I was convinced I had never seen before.

“I think this is your stop mate.” I look out the window, and indeed it was. I thanked him and bolted out of the carriage, without asking him how on earth he knew. I’m a terrible one for forming an opinion on someone from appearances, and yet again I was proved wrong. Now there’s probably a 1 in 10,000 chance he was a stalker, and a 9,999/10,000 chance he was a stranger doing someone else a favour and paying it forward.

It kind of restores your faith in humanity for a while. Rather like a story I heard today about a bus full of lads travelling from Dublin to an Irish-speaking hurling tournament in Connemara. They passed an ‘auld fellah’ cutting turf and faced with a field of turf bricks that needed turning up and leaning into each other in wigwam-type shapes for drying. All 40 of them got out and turned the turf in 10 minutes, before getting back on the bus and resuming their journey.

Love that kind of thing :-).

One of my most fun projects over the last year or so has been to help a company in the ecommerce business with a few product marketing challenges. As a result of writing and blogging on their behalf, I’ve come to know the industry pretty well.

One of the factors that really drives the industry is customer service. This is because everything revolves around the buyer experience, so that people can find what you’re selling, select it, pay for it, receive it, consume it and come back for more as often as possible. Competing on price can often become a race to the bottom and a loss-making business, so your chief competitive weapon is continuous customer delight.

This sounds pretty simple. It gets less simple when you want to sell your product in more marketplaces, because then you have more portals to manage stock levels for, and more places to manage your customer service communications from. Technology comes to the rescue in the form of software platforms that allow you to centralise your stock control, orders, shipments and most important of all customer communications, in one place.

Interestingly, the vast majority of us all are also online consumers, so at an anecdotal level we know what it’s like to be on the end of exemplary or excremental service. Which brings me to the reason for this post.

About three months ago I succumbed to a Living Social bulletin advertising, of all things, dental floss heads at a ludicrous discount. In Ireland, these offers tend to be from UK companies, so you then have to stump up for the shipping as well. Except, it’s not so straightforward. Sometimes, you contract with Living Social to buy the product, then with your special code you then go through to the vendor’s website to arrange and pay for postage directly with them. The first time I couldn’t get the website to accept any of my credit cards, so I had to raise a ticket with them and Living Social, who referred me back to the vendor. Two weeks later, I managed to get the website to accept my credit card and take the requisite amount.

A month later, no floss heads. I sent a pithy email to their support centre to say that I had never received them.

How Not to Do Customer Service

How Not to Do Customer Service

This is what I got back. A loose collection of standard responses and qualifying comments pasted and patched together in different typefaces, masquerading as a considered reply to my problem. I didn’t hold out much hope. They’re either appalling at customer service, or too busy correcting hundreds of undelivered orders, or both, with one being a consequence of the other. Suffice to say, I haven’t got my floss heads yet. These days though, being woeful – or woegious as my Irish friends say, one of my top ten new words of the last decade – is a very dangerous game, because it’s easy for buyers to rate their experiences and influence other buyers. We all know that folk don’t ask vendors for a recommendation, they ask their peers, and the online world makes this a breeze.

I’m too nice, and too tolerant to make a big fuss. But that’s about to change. They have my money and Mr Nice is about to become Mr Nasty. The online pen is far mightier than the sword :-).

 

 

Your index finger is an amazing device. Is there a more important digit? I don’t know. I guess that’s why sports people and sports fans who want to stress their hegemony in their league or group simply hold up their index finger, perhaps also mouthing the words ‘number one, baby!’

When I’m driving in the west of Ireland, especially the wild, very west of Ireland – also known as Connemara – I enjoy the silent language of mutual acknowledgement as two cars pass each other.

As the car approaches there is a casual check of the car to see if it’s someone you know – for Ireland is a village, and you’d be surprised how often you bump into someone you know, even for a ‘blow-in’ like me – then a check of of the registration plate to see if it sports the letter ‘G’ for County Galway. If it’s a local car, then the index finger of one of the hands at the ‘ten to two’ position on the steering wheels raises slightly, almost imperceptibly. Nine times of ten it is seen and acknowledged in the same way.

Such is the way in the land of a hundred thousand welcomes, from the tip of your index finger.

 

Whether you’d rather be a comma than a full stop, or vice versa, it’s important to understand these two most common punctuation marks so that you can wield the correct power over your reader.

Aside from their functions in punctuation, using them is a signpost to your reader of when – and for how long – you want them to pause.

When people don’t use them properly, or not enough, their prose – or indeed poetry – doesn’t flow properly and can be frustrating to wade through.

When I insert a comma, I want you to pause at the end of that clause, at that precise point, so that you can begin the next.  When I insert a full stop, I want you to pause a little longer. That’s because I might want to start a new sentence or a new train of thought.

Which is easier to read? a) The cat, which has a name but that’s not important, sat on the mat. b) The cat which has a name but that’s not important sat on the mat. c) The cat which has a name but that’s not important, sat on the mat. Why, a) of course!

I’ve seen folk write: The cat, sat on the mat. Why would anyone either want you to pause there or think it’s correct punctuation to put a comma right after the subject, unless you’re introducing a clause which stands on its own right – witness option a) above?

When you know where to put your comma, your reader knows how to read your stuff, simple as that. Full stop.

 

 

Here’s a phrase you hear quite a bit: I was in the zone. No you weren’t! Well, I doubt you really were.

This is different from another kind of business phrase using the word zone. We should get out of our comfort zone as much as we can to really grow.

Being in the zone is that rare event of moving or doing without necessarily knowing you’re doing it. It’s even rarer than having a purple patch, to coin another over-used term. It feels like gliding, this act of being unconsciously conscious.

I can only think of a handful of times when I’ve been in the zone.  For me it’s a bit like a state of shallow hypnosis, like when you’re driving on the motorway and you suddenly realise that you have no recollection of the previous 15 minutes. The active brain seems to step out and the thousands of hours of muscle memory take over. It happened once when I was coxing a Men’s Eight at rowing and we seemed to fly along the surface of the water. I played table tennis for 30 years and can remember only a few times when I played a rally where I thought ‘I don’t know how I got to that ball,’ or ‘ I didn’t know I even had that shot in my kitbag.’

In maybe 30 years of football I can’t ever remember being in the zone. I think it’s a very rare place. When someone tells you to ‘get in the zone’, they want you to concentrate better. You can’t simply get in the ‘real’ zone when the mood takes you. That’s why professional athletes spend years honing their skills so that they find themselves in that happy place as often as they can manage, and ideally when they most need to.

Here’s a thought for you.  Was there ever an incident when you genuinely got in the zone at work, when your brilliance made your customer, partner or colleague so successful and almost past you by? Somehow, it seems harder to achieve at work, which is a pity since it occupies most of us for most of 5 days out of 7.

 

Never know if you should be spelling those pesky little words like practice, advice etc with a ‘c’ or an ‘s’?

As with a lot of things, it depends on the context, that is to say whether you’re using a noun or a verb.

My Dad explained it this way to me once and I never forgot it: You advise some advice, and you practise some practice. As long as you remember to say it practIZE, and spell it practISE, you’ll be laughing.

Easy! Bear in mind, though, that this holds true for British English, not so much so for the other strains of English. Sorry!

The trouble with people making something look easy is that we all think we can do it, so we give it a try and either get an appreciation that’s it not easy at all and try to get better at it, or get depressed that we’ll never get that good and give up.

When you see great sport, or you hear a great song, or watch any kind of great performance, business or pleasure, what you don’t see is the 10,000+ hours of practice that culminated in making something look easy, effortless even. It is the thousands of hours that enables an expert to control time, in the sense that they seem to create more time for themselves or else can execute flawless timing.

We all operate our work, art or sport at certain levels, and when we see someone performing what we do at a level or levels above us, it’s not just that they make the level they’re at look easy. Even though they’re doing the same thing as us – playing the same sport, singing the same song, performing the same job – they’re actually doing something different. That’s when you say, or hear someone say something like ‘now that’s proper tennis/entertainment/marketing’ (delete as applicable).

There are two ways to fix this. One way is to practice more, and keep practising, to get better. The other is to avoid being compared with them.