SEPT/OCT 2009 BOSTONIAN
The (real) Voice of the Employee
by Jeff Blout (Arlington P.O. Clerk)
"No excuses."
That’s what we’ve been told.
I’m back on the window after a three-year hiatus. Did a two-day retraining gig. Most everything was easy to relearn; stamps, money orders, mail classification, hold mail, special services, customs forms, The Script.
Now, if I remember correctly, three years ago The Script consisted of approximately twenty words having to do with service commitments and prohibitions concerning hazardous materials. Seems somewhere along the line, a team of Hollywood screenwriters were brought in to expand and improve The Script to a bloated seventy-five-plus word soliloquy. Kind of like taking a TV commercial and turning it into The English Patient.
Now The Script, and the proper word-for-word recitation of The Script, is the measuring stick by which the effectiveness of all window clerks is determined. Instead of being judged by the level and quality of our service, we are now – and have been for some time, I know – subject to a customer-by-customer pass/fail test based on our ability to regurgitate The Script. And, as we all know, there are no acceptable excuses for diverting from The Script.
None.
Believe me, I know all you window clerks have been dealing with this a lot longer than I have. I’m like the athlete who retires, comes back after three seasons to a familiar game, but has trouble adjusting to some of the rule changes. We all have our Mystery Shopper stories. Here’s mine...
I’m not one of the brave souls who work the window eight hours a day; most of my time is spent down back performing allied functions. The Mystery Shopper would have to find me during lunch coverage and short relief appearances.
It was a Friday. Due to short-staffing, my co-worker – we’ll call him Clerk A – was forced to work the busy window alone. Knowing what a lousy proposition that can be, I voluntarily put my drawer in to assist him until a third co-worker, Clerk B, returned from lunch.
The line of customers appeared happy to see me; that doesn’t make me a hero, they would’ve been happy to see anyone at that point. Within twenty minutes, Clerk A and I had cleared the lobby. No complaints.
At least not from a real customer.
The following Tuesday, I was informed that I had failed The Mystery Shopper. The time of the alleged infractions was 2:50, which just happened to be when I was voluntarily working the window so my co-worker wouldn’t have to work alone and our customers wouldn’t have to wait any longer than necessary. (I’m sure some of you hardliners are thinking I got what I deserved for putting my drawer in when I didn’t have to. You’re entitled to your opinion. I don’t agree.)
I had points deducted for not saying "and free tracking" after offering Express Mail. Maybe it’s me, but I have trouble looking a customer in the eye and offering "free" services then charging them over $13. I was also penalized for not offering Priority Mail even though the non-customer – because that is what Mystery Shoppers are – chose to mail their package that way. I wonder how they explained that one. Well, they didn’t have to. Their word is gold and we window clerks have no recourse.
Of course, we did very well on question #1 - How long was your wait in line? We grabbed all 25 points, instead of zero, which is what we would have gotten if I hadn’t taken the initiative to better serve our (real) customers and support my co-worker. By thinking for myself, I made my manager look good, and, according to Mystery Shopper, made myself look incompetent.
Let it be known that not one complaint was lodged by a real customer. The only one with a problem was someone who forced our patrons to wait even longer than necessary while pretending to mail something. I wonder what The Voice of the Customer would say if they knew people were being paid to deliberately clog up the lines. Seriously, what would you think if you were in a hurry and were told the person in front of you was going to be reimbursed for making you wait longer than you had to?
I also find it astounding that a Mystery Shopper can pretend to be a consumer then run out to their car and accurately answer a 35-question evaluation based on a five-minute interaction. Were there even 35 questions on the postal exam? People equipped with that kind of recall should be put to better use.
My first customer after being informed of my failure was an older woman who bought money orders and mailed a letter. As I ran her and her letter through The Script, she began telling me about her daughter who was dying of cancer. I thought, Wait a minute, this isn’t part of The Script. Teary-eyed, she said, "Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard it all before." I told her about my mother who is a two-time survivor of breast cancer and that sometimes things turn around. I let her know that she and her daughter would be in my thoughts. I diverted from The Script, but didn’t feel like a failure.
According to postal literature, the Mystery Shopper was implemented to "correct conditions that are detrimental to customer satisfaction and may inhibit revenue growth." If you ask me, the Mystery Shopper often inhibits our humanity. And in case you were curious, the answer to Mystery Shopper item #33 - Revenue loss (based on scenario expectations) was $0.00. Forgive me for not living up to scenario expectations. No excuses.
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