Screwed On Hold

In the recent summer, we decided to indulge in a new outdoor patio setting. The one we eventually decided on was from Ikea – a table and four chairs, delivered in about nine different boxes and to be assembled by yours truly.

Saturday morning, the box was torn open to reveal the usual 100-odd pieces and picture-book instructions. I got to work with my Allan key, as one does when building Ikea, and I was eager to have this done in time for lunch and a weekend beer in the sunshine. Piece of cake.

All was going to plan - the table first, then the chairs, one by one. Not a problem….until the very final chair. I’m not making this up when I tell you that it was missing one screw. The last screw. The final one for the final chair. The missing screw had been replaced with an extra one of a different size.

Of course, I attempted to use the spare screw as a replacement. No dice. In fact, this missing screw was the one that held the entire chair together - the chair would collapse without it.

Ok, first world problems, right? I mean, this isn’t a big deal, I reminded myself. So, we had three of the four chairs up and running. That was ok. Plus, Ikea must ship hundreds of thousands of these products around the world. Surely, this must happen from time to time and we could forgive them for this one missing screw. I referred back to the instructions – there was a picture of struggling Ikea customer who blissfully calls Ikea for assistance and his problems appear to be instantly solved. I wanted that smile on my face. I would call them and all would be well.

So I called.

I was, of course, directed to an automated prompt. A couple of buttons pushed and I was through to wait on hold. It was Saturday – perhaps a little longer than usual. So I waited. And waited. And waited.

The experience was void of any update as to where I was in line or any indication as to when my call might be answered. Every new cycle of that infuriating jingle background music seemed to act as a reminder of how the job was not yet complete.

As I approached the hold time of 60 mins, I had to give up. Our toddler son wanted to go to the park and who was I to refuse? After all, he’d been pretty good for the last hour.

Sunday came and I tried again. Again, more hold music. After another 30 minutes this time, I gave up again. I’m a big proponent for resilience in life and always try to encourage myself, my friends, family and especially my son, not to sweat the small stuff. So what? One missing screw and an unfinished furniture set….deep down, this moment didn’t consume me, however, what it did do is it made me acutely aware of this sense of friction I was experiencing. I’d had countless decent experiences with Ikea over the preceding months but suddenly this one was the only one emblazoned in my mind. Their mistake had now become my problem….and they weren’t making it easy for me to fix. Plus, their silence on hold made me feel as though they couldn’t care less. I felt like one tiny ant in a long line-up, waiting my turn for my tiny slice of modern living.

The whole experience made me reflect on the organization that I work for. We sell corporate travel services – we get people to that meeting in London, the conference in Vegas or the sales pitch in Toronto. Most importantly, we get them home after a long week away. There is no room for missing screws and 60-minute hold-times. When a flight is delayed or a storm hits, we’re finding the solution while they bypass the line-up at the airline desk and head to the bar for a drink instead. The storm or the delay is out of our control but it’s our role and responsibility to provide them with that frictionless experience.

In these days of automation and AI and technology, there are a lot of tech tools to support efficiency. There is an online enquiry form I can submit on Ikea’s website. Or a phone line I can wait on hold for. Or a tablet I can tap when I go to Ikea to tell them what my problem is, grab a ticket and wait in line for service.

But that’s not really making my life easier….it’s making the organization’s life easier. It’s making ME do all of the work. Personally, what improves a moment of frustration for me is when I pick up the phone, get connected in a matter of seconds or (worse case) a few minutes, explain my situation and it’s fixed. That is customer service. I work for an organization that prides itself on customer service. We answer a call during business hours within three rings….and we answer it with a real-life person. Outside of business hours, we do put people on hold, but we don’t accept anything over 5 minutes.

It’s a small but crucial component of our operations. Kind of like a screw that holds the chair together. If we don’t get it right, the whole thing can collapse.

So….. back to my missing screw. On the Sunday afternoon, after being on hold for the second stint, I sent Ikea a scathing online enquiry articulating my frustration, giving my first-world sob-story that we had friends coming for a BBQ and we would be one chair short.

On Monday, I received an email back from Ikea apologizing for the error and promising to ship me out a new screw in 7-10 business days.

We plodded along with the unfinished chair relegated to the corner of the patio. Two weeks later the piece still hadn’t arrived so I decided to actually drive to Ikea and see what the process was for collecting missing screws. We went to customer service, used an iPad to describe the situation, got a ticket, waited in line for 20 mins, they called our number, told us they’d look in the back for a screw, 10 minutes later they had found one and gave it to us. Not one apology, zero urgency and total disregard for the customer experience. The total time I invested in getting this missing screw had now equalled 3.5 hours.

Three days later the other screw finally arrived in the mail. It arrived in a plain envelope with no note or message, no apology and no care at all.