An open letter to the MD of Dixons/Carphone Warehouse –
Dear Mr Fennell
Forgive me for writing to you directly, but I think everyone at the top should be reminded every now and then of how well or how badly their staff are doing. The reason for the congratulations? The fact that your company failed three times today to sell me a phone.
I’m not after much – all I want is a sim fee Samsung Galaxy J5 (2016) in black – so I went looking for one, but failed to get one, despite your website showing it as available at all three of the stores I went to.
First stop – N* E*, C******. The sole assistant there was chatting to her friend and leaning against the counter with an expression that can, genuinely, be described as a bulldog chewing a wasp. Didn’t go in there!
Next stop – W* C*, C******. And here your staff’s customer service “skills” are shown off at their glorious worst. (I’ll overlook being addressed as “Alright, Mate.”.) I explained what I wanted and was referred to a “sales person” who was seated at the desk at the end of the shop. I don’t expect to greeted with obsequious glee, but some form of courteous greeting would be nice. I do not expect to be addressed virtually in mono-syllables by someone who cannot even be bothered to sit up straight, much less actually smile. I also expect to have the sales person’s undivided attention and not for him to go mucking around with the printer. As he seemed so disinclined to any form of reasonable politeness I got up and left.
Final stop – R******. Here things were only marginally better. A fair wait while your two staff dealt with other customers, one of them doing a pretty good job of unselling your merchandise, but I persevered. I explained what I wanted and he went out the back to check. Now, remember that I said your web site stated that the phone I wanted was in stock at all three stores? Well, after about five minute wait under a heater unit set to “saharan” he came back and announced that he didn’t have any at all. Either he was telling me a porky-pie or your website was. I checked again when I got home. Yep! Still in stock. Now, in my days in customer facing sales roles the correct approach would have been “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we don’t seem to have one in stock. I can order one in for you and it will take blah-blah days to arrive.” Not to shrug and say “We haven’t got any. I can order one in.”
I know it’s only a hundred and eighty quid, which to Dixons must be peanuts, but you’ll forgive me if I take my money elsewhere.