How many times have you called a government agency or company and instantly found yourself put on hold?
To add insult to injury, you usually wind up serenaded by recorded music that would be totally forgettable if it weren’t so unforgivably irritating.
And every 30 seconds or so a recorded voice comes on to assure you: “Your call is very important to us.”
Have you ever wondered: “If my call is so important to you, why aren’t you answering it?”
The truth is that most companies and government agencies don’t want their employees speaking with the customers who make their existence a reality.
Having your questions answered by another human being requires the company/agency to assign–and pay–people to do just that.
Most hiring managers don’t want to hire any more people than they absolutely have to. They want to siphon off as much of the company’s profits for themselves as possible.
And assigning people to answer customers’ calls means that many of those calls will take time to answer, because some problems can’t be solved in a matter of seconds. To a bean-counting executive, time is money.
Even government agencies like police departments don’t want to spend any more time than necessary taking the calls of those who need to reach them.
Even calls to 911 can leave you talking to no one, with only a recorded message telling you to wait until someone deigns to speak with you.
That’s why many bureaucracies arrange that when you call for help, you’re fobbed off with a recorded message telling you to visit the company’s or agency’s website.
This assumes, of course, that
- You have a computer; and
- If you do, you also have Internet access.
If you
- Don’t have a computer; or
- You have a computer but don’t have Internet access; or
- You do have Internet access but the service is down,
you’re flat out of luck.
And the agency/company couldn’t care less.
But it need not be this way.
Companies and agencies can treat their customers with respect for their time and need for help.
That’s why companies that genuinely seek to address the questions and concerns of their customers reap strong customer loyalty–and the profits that go with it.
One of these is LG, which produces mobile phones, TVs, audio/video appliances and computer products.
LG actually offers an 800 Customer Care number that’s good 24-hours a day.
Its call center is staffed with friendly, knowledgeable people who are willing to take the time to answer customer questions and guide them through the steps of setting up the appliances they’ve bought.
Another company that dares to have human beings stand behind its products–and explain how to use them–is The Sharper Image.
Recently, Dave, a friend of mine, bought an electronic alarm clock that allows you to wake up to a variety of exotic souds–such as a thunderstorm, the seashore, chirping birds or foghorns.
A brochure on how to set the alarm and sounds came with the clock, but Dave couldn’t make sense of it. Luckily, there was an 800 number given in the brochure for those who needed to be walked through the necessary steps.
Dave called The Sharper Image and quickly found himself connected with a friendly and knowledgeable customer care rep. She clearly and patiently explained what he needed to do to choose which sounds he wanted to awaken to.
And then she just as patiently repeated that list of steps while he quickly typed them up for future use if he forgot what to do.
Such an approach to customer service is not new–just extremely rare these days.
In his 1970 bestselling primer on business management, Up the Organization, Robert Townsend offered the following advice to company CEOs: “Call yourself up.”
“When you’re off on a business trip or a vacation,” writes Townsend, “pretend you’re a customer. Telephone some part of your organization and ask for help. You’ll run into real horror shows.
“Don’t blow up and ask for name, rank and serial number–you’re trying to correct, not punish. Just suggest to the manager (through channels, dummy) that he make a few test calls himself.”
So how do you cope with agencies/companies that don’t care enough to help their customers?
I’ll address that in my next column.

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INFORMANTS VS. RATS
In Bureaucracy, History, Law, Law Enforcement, Social commentary on October 31, 2013 at 2:09 amIn the 1981 police drama, “Prince of the City,” both cops and criminals use plenty of four-letter words.
But the word both groups consider the most obscene is spelled is spelled with three letters: R-a-t.
The movie is based on the true-life story of former NYPD detective Robert Leuci (“Danny Ciello” in the film, and played by Treat Williams). It’s based on the best-selling nonfiction book, Prince of the City, by Robert Daley, a former deputy commissioner with NYPD.
Leuci/Ciello volunteers to work undercover against massive corruption among lawyers, bail bondsmen and even his fellow narcotics agents.
Along the way, the movie gives viewers numerous insights into not only how real-world cops work but how they see the world–and their role in it.
In its first scenes, “Prince” shows members of the elite Special Investigating Unit (SIU) preparing for a major raid on an apartment of Columbian drug-dealers.
Ciello, sitting in a restaurant, gets a tip on the Columbians from one of his informants. He then phones it in to his fellow officers. Together, they raid the apartment, assault the dealers, and confiscate their drugs and money.
The film makes it clear that even an elite detective squad can’t operate effectively without informants. And in narcotics cases, these are either addicts willing to sell out their suppliers or other drug-dealers willing to sell out their competitors.
For the cops, the payoff is information that leads to arrests. In the case of the SIU, that means big, headline-grabbing arrests.
With their superiors happy, the stree-level detectives are largely unsupervised–which is how they like it. Because most of them are doing a brisk business shaking down drug-dealers for their cash.
For their informants, the payoffs come in several forms, including:
All of these activities are strictly against the law. But to the men charged with enforcing anti-narcotics laws, this is the price to be paid for effective policing.
But not all police informants are criminals. Many of them work in highly technical industries–such as phone companies.
A “connection” such as this is truly prized. With it, a detective can illegally eavesdrop on the conversations of those he’s targeting.
He doesn’t have to go through the hassles of getting a court-approved wiretap. Assuming he has enough evidence to convince a judge to grant such a wiretap.
A top priority for any cop–especially a narcotics cop–is protecting the identities of his informants.
At the very least, exposing such identities could lead to embarrassment, unemployment, arrest and imprisonment. At worst, it could lead to the murder of those informants by enraged criminals.
But there is another reason for protecting the identity of informants: The cop who amasses a roster of prized informants is seen as someone special within the police department, by colleagues and superiors alike.
He knows “something” they do not. And that “something” allows him to make a lot of arrests–which, in turn, reflects well on the police department.
If those arrests end in convictions, his status within the department is further enhanced.
But while a cop is always on the lookout for informants against potential targets, that doesn’t prevent him from generally holding such people in contempt.
“Rats,” “finks,” “stool pigeons,” “canaries,” “informers”–these are among the more printable terms (for most media) cops use to describe those who betray the trust of others.
Such terms are never used by cops when speaking to their informants.
For cops, the most feared- and -hated part of every police department is its Internal Affairs Division (IAD). This is the unit charged with investigating allegations of illegal behavior by police.
For most cops, IAD represents the devil incarnate. Any officer who would be willing to “lock up” a “brother officer” is considered a traitor to the police brotherhood.
Even if that “brother officer” is engaging in behavior that completely violates his sworn oath “to protect and serve.”
In “Prince of the City,” Danny Ciello gives voice to just these feelings.
He’s preparing to betray the trust of his fellow narcotics officers by exposing the massive corruption among them. Yet he fiercely rejects the idea that he is a “rat.”
“A rat is when they catch you and make you an informer,” he tells his wife. “This is my game.”
Ciello has volunteered to obtain evidence of corruption; he’s not under some prosecutor’s thumb. That, to him, makes him different from a “rat.”
Of course, once Ciello’s cover is blown and his fellow cops learn what he has done, they will forever brand him a “rat,” the worst sort of turncoat.
The movie ends with Ciello now teaching surveillance classes at the NYPD Academy. A student asks: “Are you the Detective Ciello?”
“I’m Detective Ciello.”
“I don’t think I have anything to learn from you.”
For viewers seeking to learn the workings–and mindsets–of real-world police agencies, “Prince of the City” has a great many lessons to teach.
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