Wellness Letter has the opposite effect on me

Dear Wellness Letter,

I not only use to like you, I felt that by subscribing to your university-run newsletter I was supporting a worthy venture. Your straightforward nutritional and fitness information seemed so grounded and even honest--hardly like the swindler you now seem to me.

As the holidays kicked into gear, you sent me a hard-bound Wellness Calendar, the kind of letter-size datebook that sits on your desk. First, who still uses those? Seriously.

Second, I understand it's the end of the year, but sending objects and requiring someone to return it if they don't want it, especially as we head into Thanksgiving and Christmas, seems like a real burden. It was for me. It ended up getting lost in a pile of things to do.

Third, asking someone to opt out of something that costs money seems like a swindle to me and goes against what I thought you stood for. Now I see you as cutting through false marketing claims about supplements on one hand, then doing your own sleight of hand on the other. It's more than a contradiction; it compromises your reputation.

I can't separate the newsletter from the calendar. I don't think: I like the newsletter even though I hate the calendar. Honestly, I can't even look at the world "Wellness" without feeling stressed out and angry at you.

So here's my wellness plan for the new year: stop subscribing to your newsletter. That way I won't end up with a wasteful product that will never get used this time next year, let alone the snarky past due invoice that says:

Good intentions are terrific. But they're not going to keep you healthy. And they're not going to pay the bill. Both take follow-through. You demonstrated your good intentions when you made your original commitment to keep The Wellness Engagement Calendar. Now won't you please demonstrate your ability to follow through -- by paying the modest invoice enclosed? You'll feel a whole lot better.

For some reason, you think talking down to me is going to make me feel better. Instead, it's the final straw. I was dry kindling, and you just threw a match at me.

So here's some follow-through: when I say I will stop subscribing to your newsletter, I mean stop cold turkey. Right now. Even though my subscription ends in August, I want you to stop sending me your newsletter. I don't want anything more to do with you. You now have some of the worst brand associations to me, and it's emotional--even personal.

Like with my bad experience with eBay, it strikes me how easily a product/brand/service can lose goodwill. It takes repetition and good encounters to build a brand over time, but it doesn't take much to destroy it. Strangely, I find some of the worst actors in the marketing and customer care roles, and I'm not sure if it's because they are going by industry convention rather than common sense.

Invoices are touchpoints. They are forms of communication. Yet just like the invoice I got from Real Simple, they seem to be written without the brand experience in mind.

-joanie


UPDATE: I just called and canceled my subscription. The phone rep was all business, which was good for the task at hand, but I found it striking that she didn't even bother to ask me why I was canceling my service.

eBay makes "winner" feel bad about herself

Dear eBay,

Today I vowed never to buy anything on your site again. Frankly, it took a lot less than I would have expected, but then again one bad experience can easily slide down that slippery slope.

Initially, I wanted to blame "justforkidsaccessories," who didn't return my initial emails telling her that I never received the item. Her lack of regard for my situation, let alone failure to communicate with customers, were only made worse by the fact that she acknowledged that the USPS never delivered the item for whatever reason.

Fine. One bad transaction, you say. But guess what, eBay? There are thousands of sellers just like her churning out frustrated buyers, who quite easily can turn that hostility toward you. That's what happened to me.

Here's my tale. On March 9, 2008, I "won" a VTech joystick for my daughter's gaming system. I paid for it that same day, then waited and waited.

I sent the seller an email and waited for a response. Nothing. I sent another email, waited some more, and still nothing. I contacted eBay to get additional contact information. I called her at home. She apologized and said she would look into it. She seemed genuine so I waited. Nothing. I emailed her. Nothing.

I finally did what you, eBay, told me was the next step: open a dispute. Then I waited for resolution, although frankly I didn't know what that meant. Now I see that it meant nothing because that's precisely what happened.

So I called PayPal for a refund. The rep, a nice enough guy, explained that I waited too long for a refund. That policy was stated in the User Agreement when I signed up. I should have read it, he said. Maybe, but then again getting that kind of information when you're creating an account is the wrong time and place to deliver important information for when things go awry ten years later. But I digress...

I replied to the rep that more than anything, I was angry and needed some kind of resolution to give me closure. He pointed out that $18.65 was a relatively small loss and that he had, on previous occasions, needed to have this same uncomfortable conversation with other "winners," but ones who had lost a whole lot more than me. It did make me feel a little better about my loss, but it also made me feel a whole lot worse about you, eBay. As far as I'm concerned, $18.65 is the price you paid to lose my business, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

With a refund off the table, I decided to give the seller a negative review. Then at the last minute, I decided to give the dispute resolution one last try. This time I would tell the seller point blank to give me a refund.

Turns out all I was doing was running down the clock because when nothing happened and I tried once again to write that negative review, guess what? It was too late to do that, too.

So, eBay, here's how I feel:

1. You made it hard to figure out what to do when a transaction went awry: 1) your Help content is confusing and out-of-date; 2) you seem to purposefully make it hard to find links to contact customer service representatives; and 3) when these reps write back, it's clear they are often pasting in canned responses then actually trying to help you resolve issues before the clock runs down.

2. You penalized me for being patient and following your process, which takes time because when you contact people, it involves waiting. Waiting is apparently the last thing I should have been doing.

3. If a policy is so important that not knowing it will turn people against you, then put it up front. First, people don't tend to read the User Agreement, and you're not going to change that. Therefore (and this is my second point), you have no regard for giving people the information they need when they need it. How about emailing that policy right after payment is made? Third, putting important information in the User Agreement and then telling people they should have read it makes it seem like you're hiding it and blaming your customers for not reading the fine-printed legalese that we can't understand anyway. Fourth, helping "winners" like me when things should go awry just doesn't seem to be a priority for you.

Bottom line: I feel like a chump, and it doesn't matter if that's my fault for not knowing the process and waiting too long because it's a feeling that I associate with you, eBay. And since I don't like feeling this way, it's better if I don't use your service.

And there you have it. Your giant garage sale has one less "winner." But since the phones are ringing and no one's home, I suspect it doesn't matter. You are a juggernaut, and I am but one person. My guess is that it's the overall picture that matters to you. The big numbers. Your top line.

There are other companies that can fill the void you left, companies that I trust, even if things go awry every now and then because they at least have ways to catch those experiences that fall through the cracks. And their cracks aren't nearly as big as yours either, eBay.

So it's goodbye.

-joanie

PS: Remember that need for resolution I had? I finally have it. Here. It took me nearly two hours to write this letter, but I feel a whole lot better. And now I have a blog.