(Before we start, I want to recommend Tom Johnson’s recent Substack on the changing nature - or otherwise - of consumer expectations. Well worth a read)
A couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to be back in Mumbai, working with a client on their call centre customer experience. It was a great trip. Hard work, superb food, fantastic team.
The hotel we stayed at added to the occasion, the staff providing excellent service, keen to make the stay as pleasant as it could be.
There was just one problem, though. They were obsessed with asking for feedback.
When we arrived, the ‘Head of Loyalty’ came to introduce herself to us.
I’m Neti*, me and my team are here to look after you during your week with us. If you need anything – anything at all – you just come and let me know. Nothing is too much trouble.
*not real name
After the familiar argument over who was going to take the bags up to our rooms, we headed into the office, and got on with the day. We got back late that night, as we did most nights, but whatever the hour, the service throughout the stay was impeccable.
At the entrance, the team would recognise us and ask how our day had been. A WhatsApp number for the concierge made it exceptionally easy to order a taxi at short notice. The waiter in the hotel restaurant remembered what we’d had the night before, made recommendations to try different things, and insisted we try the puddings ‘which you promised me last night you would’. The chef would make my colleague - who had special dietary requirements - lunch to take to the office every day.
One of us even got a specially designed towel-display. When Neti overheard us talking about it, she assured us the rest of us would get something even better the next day. She wasn’t wrong.
The first sign that something was up came when I bumped into the person who’d cleaned my room last time I stayed, back in April.
Hello sir, remember me? I cleaned your room last time, when you stayed in room 3214!’
This is, of course, highly impressive, whether he genuinely remembers, or has been reminded of the information. But, impressive as it is, it’s just a bit… creepy, isn’t it? Not even I could remember my room number from last time, and I’m not sure him showing that he knew added to the greeting.
Next, our restaurant waiter. A truly lovely chap, quiet and polite, who came alive when he overheard us talking about Marvel movies, and why the franchise keeps pumping out identikit films. As if to prove the point, he lit up, talking at length about the storylines, the relationships, the directors, and how Captain America was his favourite because he was the most ‘grounded’ hero.
At the end of the meal, he gave us a feedback card to fill in, including adding his name. He’d been great so, breaking my normal rule, I completed it and gave him 10/10.
The only problem was, the next night, we went back in there. Same waiter, same great service. And at the end, the same feedback card, with a pleading request to fill it in, once again.
This is point where it becomes clear that these aren’t actually for feedback – they already have my views – but is now live scoring his performance, presumably for his pay.
On the day we were leaving, Neti came to find us at breakfast. How are we? Is everything ok? Are we ready to leave? Now, I have something very important to ask.
You’re going to get a request for feedback. It’s really important to us that you score us a nine of a ten. Not an eight. An eight or below is a minus five for us, it doesn’t count. We need a nine or a ten, please.
(It reminded me of the time I’d been in a restaurant in the UK and were offered a free dessert if we did a TripAdvisor review. The waiter stood over us, holding the desserts, watching as we wrote the reviews in front of him before handing the sweet treats over)
The irony here is that it had been a great stay. If we’d just received the feedback request with no prompting, we probably would have given a ten. But the constant asking, reminding, cajoling, and pressuring – I’m sure as a result of the surveys being used as a pay mechanism instead of a learning one – diminishes the experience and gives a feeling of guilt about the score you give.
More than that, it makes you wonder whether the lovely, friendly, human service being given is actually genuine, or is it all a façade being put on to get a good enough result?
After a week in Mumbai, we arrived home, tired from the trip and happy with the work.
A few days later, my colleague’s phone buzzed. It was a message from the chef in the restaurant, who’d been helping to prepare her lunches for the week.
As it happens, we haven’t yet been asked.