Customer Service

Yesterday a customer bought a small motorcycle for his son. He was told by the CSB that he could pick the bike up between 11 and noon. He came in around a quarter to twelve, with kid in tow.

Star, the assistant manager, was having a discussion with the manufacturer's rep from Suzuki about the Customer Service Index. This is a way of measuring a customer's satisfaction with the sale and the dealership. Ours is surprisingly low. Star had just gone to a three day Suzuki CSI seminar and is gung ho to implement the things he's learned and improve our CSI. Nobody else at the Lazy K wants to implement anything. Fearless Leader says the dealerships that get high CSIs "kiss the customer's ass." And he's not going to kiss anyone's ass. He did enough of that in prison.

So Star is talking to the rep about improving customer satisfaction, and the guy comes in to pick up his son't new motorcycle. It isn't here.

The CSB picks up the phone and calls our warehouse, then starts asking "where's the fucking bike," while the customer, his kid and the manufacturer's rep are nearby. "I ask you to do one fucking thing, and you can't even do that. Get it up here now."

She listens a bit.

"Put the fucking thing together and put it on the truck today."

She listens a bit and slams down the phone, then puts her smile back on. "It will be here later. When would you like to pick it up?"

"When it's here," the customer replies.

"It will be here later this afternoon." She smiles sweetly.

The customer leaves and the CSB turns to the Rhino and starts swearing about the idiots who put the bikes together.

I wonder what the Manufacturer's Rep was thinking.


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