Say you've banked with an organisation for three decades. Would you expect a reply to a small complaint letter?
A 2018 survey by SalesForce showed that 54% of customers donu00e2u0080u0099t believe companies have their best interests in mind
My first boss, an irrepressible Irishman called Desmond Doig, taught me that if someone takes the time to write to you personally, you should always return the favour. I have followed that rule all my life. Every reader who writes to me gets a personal reply, and more than just a 'Thank you for your kind words'.
Perhaps Mr Kriti Raman, manager of HDFC Bank at Delhi's Shastri Nagar, didn't have any such mentors; when a customer writes him a letter, he just passes it down the line. I got a reply from Ms Purnima Joshi, the Backup Branch Manager. The second time I wrote to Mr Raman, he didn't even bother to do that. The bank as a whole just ignored my letter.
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I've been in several minds about writing this column about the corporate lack of civility in dealing with annoyed, frustrated customers like me. After all, my complaint itself could be dismissed as trivial. A cheque for about Rs 9,000, deposited into my account by an Indian magazine I write for, apparently needed an attached explanation of its source. This new rule was ostensibly to nip money laundering in the bud.
I had explained to the Voice from HDFC that as a Bangkok resident, I could not physically sign behind the cheque with an explanation. He reassured me that he would do so on my behalf and process the cheque.
This felt like the HDFC I knew, proactive, helpful.
Except that the Voice did nothing of the sort. After 10 days, when no money had shown up in my account, I contacted the magazine. My cheque had apparently been deposited at the Barakhamba Road branch but was now MIA. The magazine, rising to action beyond the call of duty, contacted the manager of their local branch at Noida. She tracked the cheque down to the Shastri Nagar HDFC Branch, whose manager was Mr Kriti Raman.
My first letter went straight to Mr Raman and it was civil and polite, more than can be said for my next letter. Ms Joshi replied promptly, attaching a form that I could sign and send back by email, attesting the cheque's source. Easy peasy. So, I did that.
But a few days later, upon follow-up, I learned that the cheque had now been mailed to Bangkok. The courier would have to send it back. I asked to be kept updated.
I wasn't, though. After three more weeks of radio silence, I wrote what could only be called a stinker to Mr Raman, copying everyone I could think of, pointing out that a paltry sum was being bounced around from branch to branch and country to country -- when an electronic form already existed that I could have signed and sent the day it was deposited. If someone had thought to email it to me.
This time -- a deafening silence.
I did what any irate customer would do. Went straight to the top. I don't personally know the CEO, Aditya Puri, except that he is a remarkable, dynamic, highly respected and visionary leader. I certainly didn't expect that he would read my letter personally but was confident that his secretary would pass it on to the right people for attention and action.
Except. Nothing.
It seems that finally the bank has become too large and I was too small.
A 2018 survey by SalesForce, The State of the Connected Customer, gathered data from 6,723 individuals in 15 countries, including India. Four findings stand out:
80% of customers say the experience a company provides is as important as its products and services.
51% of customers say most companies fall short of their expectations for great experiences.
54% of customers don't believe companies have their best interests in mind.
Right now I certainly believe that HDFC neither has my best interests at heart nor considers me important enough. Being ignored can be crushing when one human being does it to another. When an institution you trust does it, and casually, through neglect and lack of basic civility, then you feel both invisible and helpless. Smaller banks like RBL make me feel like a prince; standards like State Bank of India still practice old-world courtesy.
Chatbots and call centres are already robotising interactions and dehumanising customer service. Airtel uses passive-aggressive politeness to hound you to pay your bills. But, in a world of declining civility, it's oddly reassuring that a human being is in there somewhere looking out for you.
If someone had taught Mr Raman that he could have won my heart and willing patience with a reply, a little empathy and a sincere re-assurance -- just a few lines -- then this column might have been about something less trivial.
PS: The cheque finally showed up in my account two days ago. Three months had passed.
Here, viewed from there. C Y Gopinath, in Bangkok, throws unique light and shadows on Mumbai, the city that raised him. You can reach him at cygopi@gmail.com Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
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