The review curse

No, I don’t want to review your stupid product or service

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One of the greatest annoyances of modern life must be the incredible flood of requests everyone of us is getting to “Please tell us how we did!” Quite literally after every restaurant I go to, after every Internet buying experience, and after every bag I get back from the belly of the airplane, there is a request to use some of my time to give the seller free feedback on their performance.

If you ask me, the worst offenders are the emails that promise a quick feedback: “How did we do? Click here: ☆☆☆☆☆”. But, click on the stars, and you are taken to a web site that is going to suck up your life energy by requesting you to explain in detail to the merchant how the double mocha frappuccino you just bought changed your life. It didn’t, I probably liked it, but it was not an earth-shattering experience. It was a bloody cup of coffee for crying out loud!

Every time I use my credit card for anything, which is basically for everything (because the only people I pay in cash are my piano teacher and my drug dealer), I am getting a text or an email to share my valuable thoughts on the amazing experience I just went through. The travel insurance company is asking for reviews, airlines are asking for reviews, even the electricity company is asking for reviews. Really? I turned on the light, it worked, what more is there to say?

If you are interested, here are my thoughts: “I bought something from you. If it didn’t totally suck balls, I will probably buy from you again. If I don’t, either it did suck balls or I just never need a linen shirt with a Japanese drawing of a cat on it again.” Or maybe you are just a bloody monopoly and I have no choice and, let’s be honest for a moment, you have no real incentive to improve. Are you listening, Comcast?

Sometimes I get amazing service and people go above and beyond the call of duty to help me out. When that happens (hint: rarely), I am more than happy to write a personal email that outlines how and why a particular associate was amazing and a reason to come back. For instance, Robert at the Ermenegildo Zegna store in Boston is amazing. I bought my wedding suit there and the service was so good that it was the first and only store I went to in order to get a suit for my daughter’s upcoming wedding (I don’t need a lot of suits, there was a 9 year gap). Fortunately, Robert is still there and the experience was again something to write home about. Five stars, will buy a suit there again!

Another person I'd be happy to leave a review for is my piano teacher. I found him on Thumbtack and over the years he has completely changed my understanding of music, to the point that I am now not only a crappy amateur beginner, but a crappy amateur beginner who is composing very simple tunes for the piano. Great teacher and highly recommended.

But why would I leave a review for your bog standard e-commerce site where I pressed a few buttons and you didn’t completely screw up and managed to send me some item that matched the photo and the description? Why would I want to share my feedback for a visit to your chain restaurant in a completely forgettable mall where I was adequately served a mediocre hamburger with lukewarm fries and no mayonnaise? What’s in it for me? Will you get a better beer selection? Make better burgers? Hire someone who doesn’t take three minutes to input my order into a handheld terminal and then manages to forget half of it? Or are you going to get rid of the ridiculous 4% “back of the house fee” that you apparently need to pay your staff because, for one reason or another, the need to pay said staff is not accounted for in the prices on the menu? Surely, my best recourse for a better experience is to make better life choices the next time I am hungry; telling you the many ways in which I think you could do a better job is not worth my time because the feedback loop to a better experience is too long and probably entirely nonexistent.

Even worse than surveys are reminders about surveys. Zipcar recently sent me an email titled “Reminder: Please share your feedback”. Double-u-the-tee-eff!? I paid a handsome sum to rent one of your cars; it was an okay experience, but nothing to write home about. That’s fine, I don’t often write home about anything, so as long as I keep coming back, you’re probably doing a good enough job. Why would I take time out of my busy day to tell you this? Again, what is in it for me? But Zipcar obviously cannot imagine that you wouldn’t want to take the time to send your valuable insights into the black hole of their marketing department’s HubSpot tables. So, they sent me an email to remind me that they “recently sent [me] an invitation to provide feedback on [my] Zipcar experience and [they]'d love to hear from [me] via this brief 5-minute survey.” Five minutes! If I had five minutes to waste on something entirely useless I have dozens of options that are way more fun. But okay, here is my review: The car was mostly fine but there were suspicious stains on the seats. The gas card didn’t work and when I called your support line you were of course experiencing unusually high call volumes so it took ages to get someone on the line, after which I spent six minutes of my life that I am never going to get back talking to the world’s most uninterested support person, who was no help at all. But, when it comes to car rental by the hour you are the only show in town, so I will probably use you again, thought this is not out of sheer enthusiasm for the quality of your service. I will give you this: There was a Zipcar in my hotel’s garage and there is one right next to my office and that is darn convenient.

By the way: Isn’t the “We are expecting unusually high call volumes” the worst line in phone support? I am calling you on Monday morning at 6am for crying out loud! How many other idiots are calling you? And don’t you use, I know, like, uhh, data, to predict how many people could be calling at any given time? Don’t bullshit me and just say: “We have figured out that we can get away with a minimal number of marginally trained staff from low-wage countries who barely speak English because, heh, who else are you going to call when you have trouble with your Zipcar?”

The prescient 1964 novel Simulacron-3 describes a world where surveying has gone mad. Phones are ringing off the hook constantly with requests for survey participation and you can’t walk two blocks down the street without being harassed by a survey taker. I feel we are already in this world, but Simulacron-3’s world is even worse, because you are by law obliged to participate in these surveys. Imagine the horror! Then someone comes up with the brilliant idea of developing a machine with simulated living beings in it who they can send the surveys to. As the machine nears completion, one of the lead engineers on the project gets killed and things start getting weird.  

The novel has a fantastic plot twist and I highly recommend reading it! When you do, remember that the novel is even older than I am! It was shockingly ahead of its time. I’ll say it again: Read it!

The futility of giving input about service quality is on full display if you have an actual tangible complaint. The companies who loved your input when there was nothing on the line for them are now suddenly indifferent, don’t return your calls, and actively stonewall you. Apparently, the only way to move companies when you actually report a service quality problem is to write a song about it, put it on YouTube, and hope it goes viral.

If you think my input is valuable then pay me for it. If you want me to spend my time telling you my thoughts, then give me a discount code for my next purchase, a few air miles, or just money. Five minutes of my time is worth at least $5 I’d say. If it is not worth any money for you to get my opinion then it is not worth my time to provide it. Just wait and see if I come back… And don’t break my guitar!