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| An actual questionnaire capture |
They come from the two banks, an internet service provider, energy supplier, and various other organisations with whom I have a business relationship. They also come from Australia Post with whom I do not have a relationship until someone sends me a letter or parcel.
As if there is only one person who writes customer satisfaction surveys in Australia, they are inevitably worded identically.
“Based on your experience today, how likely or unlikely are you to recommend Marty’s Widget Co to your friends and family?”
Well, for fuck’s sake, why do they think I’ll recommend anything to my friends and family?
My friends and family are well-educated, seemingly intelligent people who can make their own decisions about which companies to use for their products and services. I expect they have had accounts with banks for decades and don’t need me to tell them with whom they should bank or get an internet account.
When I banked a cheque recently, it took three minutes. I walked into the bank, the female teller asked what she could do for me. Once I had thought of the many possibilities, which weren’t what she had in mind, I responded that I wanted to deposit a cheque.
I passed it to her, slid my credit card into a machine and tapped in my pin number.
“Do you want a receipt?”
“No thank you.”
That was it. Whizbang - thank you M’am.
Then the next day a 20 question questionnaire arrives. I usually delete them, but on this occasion, I told the survey writers what I thought about their inane questions.
