I’d like to step back from the normal domain of this column, and take a moment to relate a story that has little to do with the crop protection and production industries (directly, anyway).
Comenzó con una tarea simple: quería cambiar el tono de llamada de mi teléfono celular.
The journey began in the most logical place: the web site of my cellular service provider. The site was gorgeous in design, and loaded with features. I combed through it for 10 or 15 minutes (which, in web time, is an eternity) before discovering that my model of phone, which was first manufactured in the fourth quarter of 2005, was discontinued. The only option given to me was to set up an online account to find out if I was eligible for an upgrade. After filling out numerous forms and accessing my e-mail to retrieve an activation code, I learned I was not eligible. I had hit a dead end; my phone was no longer supported, and no alternative service was offered. I left unsatisfied and frustrated. Next stop: the phone manufacturer’s web site.
On the site of the phone manufacturer, I located my phone model. Again, the site was sleek and loaded with fancy content. I was able to find my phone’s profile, and there was a link that stated “Get Ringtones” — finally, I was in the right place. Or so I thought.
Al hacer clic en el enlace, descubrí que también necesitaba crear una cuenta aquí, lo que nuevamente involucraba múltiples formularios e iniciar sesión en mi correo electrónico para recuperar otro código de activación. Después de hacerlo, recibí un mensaje que decía que mi modelo había sido descontinuado; el sitio informó que verifico con mi proveedor de servicio celular. Huelga dos.
By this point, I had enough of traveling the main road. If I know anything about the spirit of the Internet, it’s that it is the ultimate forum for collaboration, cooperation, and volunteerism. The abundance of projects from the robust Wikipedia to the thousands of open source applications online all point to the fact that when internet users are unsatisfied, they take matters into their own hands, and help each other out.
I used a search engine to look for my phone make and model, and the word “ringtones.” And there it was: a results page listing 20 people who had asked the exact same question, and the help they had received from anonymous internet “neighbors.” One result directed me to www.mobile17.com.
Lo que encontré fue un sitio simple, con un propósito muy claro. Seleccioné el modelo de mi teléfono de una lista y el sitio me dio varias opciones para encontrar tonos de llamada, así como la posibilidad de convertir un archivo de música que ya tengo en un tono de llamada, todo gratis, con garantías de privacidad que me protegen del spam. Me dio dos opciones: un servicio gratuito que se cumpliría en un par de horas, o un servicio exprés
lo que tomaría menos de un minuto, si tuviera que hacer una donación voluntaria. Elegí la ruta gratuita (quería ver si funcionaba antes de donar), y esta mañana, mi tono de llamada estaba esperando, junto con un mensaje agradeciéndome por usar el sitio y dándome la bienvenida para regresar.
Y sé que lo haré. Y la próxima vez, felizmente haré una donación. También sé que no volveré a utilizar los otros dos sitios.
The experience made me re-think what service means online. It was clear that the major corporate sites were built to fulfill the corporations’ needs, while mobile17’s was obviously crafted with customer satisfaction as the primary goal. This is a lesson that can be applied to all industries: nothing can take the place of customer service. The first two sites drove me away unsatisfied; the third made me want to come back, and it asked nothing in return unless I was happy enough with their service to want to contribute.
It’s a simple truth: If your first values are not making customers happy, those customers will look elsewhere. And on the web, there is always an elsewhere.