March 2007

   "The Squeaky Wheel"

   Maybe it's cranky old age creeping in, maybe it's due to my going a bit "stir-crazy" this winter, or maybe it's the fact that customer service is quickly becoming a thing of the past in business today, but lately I've been writing a lot of complaint letters to companies, expressing my dissatisfaction with their service and/or product. I believe this is more indicative of lousy products and rotten service rather than me being in a foul mood with nothing else to do but email complaint letters. Often these letters, addressed to customer service departments (who promise complete satisfaction), are either ignored completely, or answered with a "form letter" that doesn't address any of my problems. The worst thing, for me, is to be taken advantage of and then ignored. Can I get a witness? This is where righteous indignation enters in and I admit I can become a bit obsessive. My wife would disagree. She'd say a lot obsessive. Although I really don't have the time to fool with any of this, I am too stubborn to let it go, especially when my hard-earned money is at stake and I know I'm right. Are you with me? But I've learned that more flies are drawn with sugar than with vinegar – if I can make them laugh at my situation, then I've got them. I've learned to rant and rave with a sense of humor, much like a lot of the stories here in the Lightnin' Lowdown. If you just rant and rave, they laugh at you, and then ignore you. But if you rant and rave with a sense of humor, they're more likely to laugh with you, and maybe even address your situation.

   Service (them) - an act of helpful activity; help; aid.

   Righteous indignation (me) - retribution, retributive justice;
   anger and contempt combined with a feeling that it is one's
   right to feel that way; anger without guilt.

   Here's some sad (but true) facts: firstly, most corporate businesses today, especially the service industries, would rather lose your trade forever than to have someone on salary to deal with your problem; secondly, most "managers" at the store level don't have the necessary skills to be on a junior high school yearbook committee – let alone deal with customer complaints in a pragmatic and responsible fashion; and lastly and sadly, they just don't care – not about the customer and his or her dissatisfaction, not about their company and the future loss of revenue and business, and, most importantly, not about themselves and the impression they make on other people. And if you think I am mistaken, spend half an hour in a mall this Saturday and then call me a liar. Or try getting some tech support from your internet provider (in English). Or try getting help from a customer service representative from your friendly credit card company. You'd think a 28% interest rate would entitle you to some service, right? To quote Muhammad Ali from the second Leon Spinks fight, "Not here and not today!".

   In this Lowdown, I'll tell you about three of these episodes that demonstrate the fact that it's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease, but it's the humorous squeaks that get the response. Big business counts on the fact that most disgruntled customers won't take the time and effort to pursue the matter. They'll ignore you (and the situation) if they can. Bullies bank on the notion that once the little guy is bullied, that he'll just go away. I'm their worst nightmare. I'm the Jake LaMotta of the internet! I'll just keep comin' at 'em. I refuse to lose. And my definition of winning sometimes is simply getting acknowledged. I exist and I am somebody! I hope you enjoy - and away we go…

         Part One

   After an absolutely dreadful family birthday dinner at a local chain restaurant, and after getting no satisfaction from the "management team" there, I emailed their corporate office, full of rage and righteous indignation (not to mention indigestion). Let's call the restaurant "O'Bobby's". In my letter, I told O'Bobby's about our nightmare experience, which was the worst dining experience I've ever had in my lifetime, and is the worst restaurant experience that anyone I've told it to has ever HEARD OF in their lifetime. I'm not going to relive (and put you through) the torment of all the gory details from that night, but it was total meltdown. Please understand that I am not one of those horrible people who nit-pick and complain about everything in restaurants. I've worked in (and eaten in) enough restaurants to despise those people. I'll quietly suffer a cold baked potato or an overcooked steak rather than risk being mistaken for one of them. I am the opposite. I hate to complain and hardly ever send anything back to the kitchen. Having worked in lots of restaurants, I know what happens to much of the food that gets sent back to the kitchen. But this particular night was so outrageously over-the-top (and our complaints to restaurant "management" fell on deaf ears – they actually hid from us) that I immediately shot a furious email to O'Bobby's corporate customer service department. I love the internet - thanks Al Gore! I told them my tale of woe in detail and promised them that although this was my first telling of this tale, it would not be my last. I swore that, with practice, I would get good at telling it. I also told them that I was a full-time musician/entertainer, and if they didn't make this right, not only would I tell the story to everyone and anyone – every time I heard the name "O'Bobby's" mentioned, for as long as I lived, or as long as they were in business (which, if this was the way they conducted business, that I should outlast them by a hundred years), but I would make this horror story a regular part of my stage act. At that time, I was playing a "house gig" (playing the same room five nights per week) in a hotel convention center, on the same block as O'Bobby's. I would tell and retell my misadventure, on stage, to large audiences of their potential customers, forever. The story really was that extraordinary – it would make a terrific comedic screenplay – people love to laugh at the misfortunes of others. And this was belly-laugh material, as long as it was not happening to you.

    I received a phone call the next day from a lady at the O'Bobby's corporate office, saying how sorry they were, how unacceptable this was, etc. She said that they would speak to the store "managers", and that they were prepared to do anything to keep me as a customer. I think they just wanted to make sure this story didn't wind up in my act (I hope they're not reading this - I'm probably violating a gag order of some kind). She said I could expect a call from their regional manager later that day. She also said that they had passed my email around their office, due to it's fantastic comedic value, and that everyone was getting a big kick out of it ("Don't get me wrong - what happened to you and your family is not funny and is totally unacceptable, but the way you tell the story..."). She closed by telling me that based upon my letter-writing ability, I must be some fine entertainer. I realized that it was my letter-writing ability, and not my injuries, that got me the call back. I was onto something.

   The regional manager called me as promised, and dig this: he refunded my money completely and in cash, sent each of my guests $25 gift cards (we were a party of thirteen), and sent me two $50 gift cards for my trouble. My email letter yielded several hundred dollars. But the bad news was that the gift cards were only redeemable at O'Bobby's. Oh well, can't win 'em all.

        part two

   Dealing with rejection has been as much a daily part of my show business experience as guitar strings. I've made thousands of phone calls and sent hundreds of press kits (CDs, promo materials, etc.) to clubs and promoters in hopes of getting a positive response. I don't think I've ever gotten a favorable response from contacting someone "cold" – that is, they don't know me, don't know what I do, and haven't asked me to contact them. But the thing that upsets me most is when someone asks me to call them or send them materials, and then won't respond. I'll call, and they're "in a meeting". I'll call back, and "they're out". I'll call back, and they're "on the other line". Of course I'll leave messages, and of course, they don't call me back. This makes me crazy. I would much prefer a simple "NO!", so I could go on with my life. I've got other people waiting anxiously to reject me. I could move on. And I would stop calling them and wasting their time, too. I would rather have someone tell me, "Sorry man, you stink" or "We don't have anything for you right now", than to say "Try back tomorrow morning". What ever happened to the good old days of "Don't call us – we'll call you". That's much too direct and honest for folks these days. And in these situations, I usually obsess and, full of righteous indignation (see above), vow to get someone to take my call and tell me something. Anything. And since I'm not going to get the gig anyway, I make it a point to ingratiate myself on them, until at least I know they'll remember my name. After all, they're the ones who saw me or heard me - they gave me their business card and told me to call them so we could do business. And then all I get from them is the runaround, when a one-syllable "No" would be a real timesaver for both of us. This has been the case more often than not, and must result in one either getting a sense of humor about it or getting out of the business.

   One particular instance of this I remember well because I really wanted the gig. While in Memphis, Tennessee playing the Memphis In May Music Festival, I was approached by someone opening a new club on Beale Street. He said he saw me perform and that he thought that I would be "perfect" to play at his club when it opened. He asked if I would like to see the club, as it was truly one-of-a-kind, and I jumped at the chance. The club was called "Elvis Presley's Memphis" and was located at Second and Beale in the old Lansky's building, where a young Elvis (along with every other Memphis musician shopped for "cat clothes"). The club was owned by Lisa Marie, Priscilla, and EPE (Elvis Presley Enterprises), and was filled with unbelievable Elvis items from his Palm Springs home such as his white Story And Clark baby grand piano, a gigantic crystal chandelier that was hanging over the front of the stage, and the pool table that the Beatles played pool on with Elvis while visiting him at his California home in August of 1965. My private tour of the club was awe-inspiring for me, having only read about and seen pictures of these items, and the décor inside the club was equally unbelievable. The front doors were gold with a huge "E" on the left-hand door, and a huge "P" on the right. There were white-carpeted stairs leading up to where the piano and pool table were located (the piano was behind a "movie theatre rope" and was supposedly off-limits, but the pool table would be available for patrons to play on, for an hourly fee!). The stage was magnificent (with the chandelier at the front), and the booths were circular and covered in white and beige suede. Needless to say, I was dumbstruck at the beauty of the club and its furnishings and asked the manager what he expected to happen when drunks and tourists (redundant) filled the place. White carpeting and suede booths? Allowing the public access to a museum piece like that pool table for $10 an hour? All this, and a full bar, seemed (to me) to be the recipe for disaster, but what do I know? The highlight of this VIP tour for me was getting to sit down at Elvis' piano and playing and singing the gospel song, "I Believe". On Elvis' piano! This made everything that was to follow worthwhile. I was having a coronary at the prospect of playing this place, on that stage, among all this stuff, but I retained a cool, collected exterior. I needed the manager to be more excited about the prospect of getting Lightnin' Charlie than me showing my excitement about playing the gig of my life. But, on the inside, my heart was galloping. I felt that I was born to play this room. It was my birthright. Like Sinatra reading the script of "From Here To Eternity" and knowing that he was born to play Maggio, I knew that this was rightfully mine. The manager explained that Jewel (a friend of Lisa Marie's) was booked to play the grand opening, but that my mix of blues, rock 'n' roll, and my king-sized repertoire of Elvis tunes would be "a perfect fit" for this room. He told me he would "love" to talk to me about booking a weekend there with my band. I thanked him and told him I would definitely be in touch and left, making it about a half a block up Beale before starting to stagger. 

[Editor's Note: staggering up Beale Street is no longer an option, it's required]

   I waited the obligatory week before calling him, and was told he was "out", and would I like to leave a message? I did, and after a few days went by without a return call, I called back. And back. And back again. Three weeks went by, and I left messages each time. I remember asking if he still worked there. The reality was dawning on me. I was brokenhearted and wildly upset. Why would he take the time (his time) to give me a private tour of the club, tell me to call him to book a show, and then not take or return my calls? I thought that he must not be getting my messages, so I took to sending him letters. Lots of letters. These were also unanswered. Pathetically, I became determined to get a response – any response. My dreams were being crushed here, and I just wanted to know why (sob-sob). I felt jilted, I didn't understand, and I was tired of being pushed around. And I wasn't gonna TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! Hell hath no fury like a musician scorned.

   After dozens of polite, professional phone calls, and several down-to-earth, business letters, I started writing poems. Funny, sarcastic poems. I remember saying to my wife, "At least they'll know who Lightnin Charlie is after they read this!" I was ready for the Jerry Springer Show. I can see myself screaming at the club manager, mascara streaming down my cheeks, "I just want you to say it to MY FACE!!!" I was dealing with some serious emotional trauma, and I just needed closure. I remember writing one little ditty about Lisa and Michael Jackson, and one about Priscilla and Mike Stone (the karate instructor she cheated with while married to Elvis, the guy Elvis famously wanted his Memphis Mafia to kill). I remember saying (poetically) if I changed my name to Michael, would I get a call back? These four-line poems were uproariously funny (to me), and allowed me to finally "let go" and "move on". I wish I had a copy of some of these, but none survive, except for one that I remember, and it is one of the earlier, more polite ones (they went from bad to worse). Remember, these were only intended to elicit a response. Any response. It went like this…

         Elvis had Lincolns
         Cadillacs and a Harley
         Why not get on the phone
         and book Lightnin' Charlie?

                  - copyright protected Lightnin' Charlie Enterprises 2001

   I know, it's pretty sad. But it got me what I wanted - they finally responded with a form letter thanking me (yeah) "for my interest in Elvis Presley's Memphis. Although we do not have any openings for entertainment at this time, we will retain your information for our records, and will possibly contact you in the future. Thank you and best wishes." In other words, we have forwarded your politically incorrect poetry to local law enforcement, and we want you to cease and desist. Leave us alone! Hallelujah, that's all I wanted to hear. I never bothered them again, and a year or two later, the club closed its doors. Friends of mine in Memphis told me that they went out of business "due to terrible management". Amen to that, brother! Ironically, Elvis' motto in business was "Takin' Care Of Business – In A Flash", hence his TCB logo with the lightning bolt. Obviously, it skips a generation.

         part three

   The last little diatribe I'll leave you with is my most recent. Many of you are aware of the online movie rental services like Netflix and Blockbuster. I was a member of Netlix for four years and constantly had trouble with their service. As you probably know, with these services, there's no due dates for movies – keep them as long as you want. When you return one, the next one in your queue will ship. Netflix advertises "usually in about one day". Sounds good. Netflix incorrectly advertises (and was forced to settle a lawsuit on this and added the words "usually" and "about" to the above pitch). They say that "most" people live within a one day shipping radius of one of their distribution centers. Apparently I am not "most" people, and live three or four days away from their distribution centers. Since they only ship your next movie upon receiving your old one, this three or four day turnaround time (each way) severely affects the value of the service. It sure did mine. And when I would receive broken or incorrect DVDs, that would also cause me to cry "foul". After reporting the damaged DVD (and demanding compensation), I would get form emails back from their customer service department assuring me that their crack team (pun intended) of quality control experts diligently inspected every DVD prior to leaving their distribution centers, insuring that their customers receive the best of service. These form letters never mentioned any compensation for my lack of service (see definition above). They just told me what a good job they were doing. I started regularly receiving scratched, unplayable DVDs, some broken completely in half. I began to receive DVDs I did not order, other DVDs never arrived at all. I understand that things get damaged or lost in the mail, but when things continually go wrong with a service, through no fault of mine, that I am paying for, and is not what is advertised, and I can't get a response from customer service (nor any compensation), I get mad. Once, after complaining about the turnaround time, Netflix even suggested that I use an address closer to their distribution center (sell my house and move closer to Netflix?), or if I'm on a rural route (I'm not), I should consider using a post office box. Now that's a customer service department. Unbelievable. You want to get my goat? Lie to me, take my money, then when I complain about it, ignore me. That'll get it every time. Can I get an "Amen"? 

   Here's a funny and satisfying (for me) little dialogue between Netflix and myself, after I had cancelled my membership. When they had my monthly subscription fee in their grubby, little hands, they were totally unconcerned with the speed of service. Notice how differently they act when they've shipped three DVDs, and then I cancelled my membership. To quote my man, W. C. Fields, "Even the worm turns!"

         On 2/21/07, Netflix wrote:

            *Netflix Membership Cancelled*

Dear Charles,

Per your request, your Netflix membership has been cancelled, effective 02/20/2007.

Please return the following titles by their specified due dates:

*Due Date*        *Title*

02/27/2007      Frank Sinatra: The Man and His Music / Judy, 
                       Frank & Dean (1962)
02/27/2007      The Sound of Music (1965)
02/27/2007      The Hee Haw Collection: Vol. 3 (2004)

We hope you enjoyed the service and will consider returning some day.

-Your Friends at Netflix

         On 2/21/07, I wrote back:

   To My Dear Friends at Notflix,

   I will gladly and promtly return the DVDs - usually in about one business day, but what's your hurry? Why the big rush all of a sudden? "The Sound Of Music" is being shipped today - so you can expect to receive it within one business day as advertised, unless your distribution center is located outside of my one-day shipping radius. The other 2 DVDs I have not yet received, but will return them immediately after watching them (usually within one business day). These were shipped during the month of service I paid for, and so don't expect me to send them back to you without viewing them (if they're not broken, that is). 

   Part of my ongoing problem with Notflix (and my reason for canceling) is the lousy service: your no-fault customer service department professionals, poor quality control, and slow turnaround time, so now that the "shoe's on the other foot", you can expect the same delays that I've dealt with for my 4 years as a customer. Be advised that I don't ship on Sundays, evenings, holidays, Martin Luther King Day, Secretary's Day, John Travolta's Birthday, Groundhog Day, etc. Two of these DVDs were shipped by you Tuesday the 20th, so I might receive them Thursday the 22nd, but maybe not until Friday the 23rd or Saturday the 24th. If I watch them Friday or Saturday, they will be processed and shipped Monday the 26th. And you expect them back the next day??? 

   You are being more than a bit optimistic, demanding to receive them by Tuesday the 27th. You realize, after the lawsuit you lost in California (the one I was never compensated for as promised in your settlement, by the way), that the one-day turnaround time you advertise is literally what a bull leaves in a field after eating lots of wet grass. File it in your fantasy/sci-fi section. One-day turnaround time has never been the case with me during my years of membership - how naive of you to expect it to be the case now. You have been watching too many of your own commercials if you believe that. 

   And if you should receive them, and they're broken in half or otherwise horribly damaged, please rest assured that my team of quality control experts have diligently inspected each of these discs prior to shipping, insuring that they are in tip-top shape prior to leaving my distribution center. 

   Your satisfaction is my number one priority. If (due to circumstances out of my control) you receive them damaged (or late), you should consider using another mailing address, such as a post office box or non-rural route, or moving your distribution center to another location more convenient to me. Because it's not my fault. Most folks I send mail to receive my correspondence within one business day (usually). Sound familiar?

   Do not respond to this email as it was generated by a robot on a working visa.

      - Your friend at Blockbuster, 
         Charlie Dolinger

On 2/22/07, Netflix Customer Service wrote in response:

 Dear Charles,

Thanks for your message.

I have confirmed your account was cancelled on 02/20/07.

All outstanding rentals must be received by Netflix within 7 days of cancellation or we will automatically charge a replacement fee for the unreturned DVDs.

If you have any further questions or concerns, please feel free to contact us.

Thanks,
Jo-lynn
Netflix Customer Service
Los Gatos, California

         On 2/23/07, I saw the light, and wrote back:

Dear Jo-lynn,

  Thanks for responding to my previous letter, although you did not address any of the issues I raised. But that's okay - I realize firsthand that English is tough as a second language. The important thing is to keep trying!

  Anyway Jo-lynn, I've got good news - I received the DVDs yesterday and they will be ON THEIR WAY BACK TO YOU TODAY! The reason I am returning them immediately (without watching them) is not because of you threatening to charge me, it's because the Netflix envelopes were full of RED ANTS!!! No kidding. I was so glad to receive them (the DVDs) yesterday (giving me some ray of hope that I wouldn't be charged for them), that I immediately opened the first DVD envelope and was shocked to see a bevy (is that the right word?) of RED ANTS streaming out of the envelope and onto my finger! I was standing at my mailbox, at the street in front of my house (I don't live on a rural route!), with my middle finger outstretched and held out from my body. This caused several passengers in passing cars to do the same. They didn't know my middle finger was a gangplank for this horde of genuine California Red Ants! I examined the second envelope and saw that it too had a stream (band?, gaggle?) of RED ARMY ANTS coming out from the little address window. Well, Jo-lynn, I was certainly surprised! Although nothing should shock me about the condition or expediency of my incoming Netflix DVDs, but RED ANTS??? This was a first. Thankfully, this was not my first picnic (so to speak), so I didn't panic and recoil, possibly hurting the ants on my finger, and possibly dropping and damaging your DVD. I am very well acquainted with red ants and remained cool. I even had an ANT FARM when I was a kid! My first thought was how I was going to get these red ants BACK into the Netflix envelope promptly, so I could avoid being charged a late fee. Luckily I had a little backwash of coca-cola in a cup nearby and I quickly dribbled a little dab of it on the inside of the paper flap of the envelope - no charge, I was glad to do it. I was very careful not to get any on the disc for fear of your crack team of inspectors getting their inspecting-hands sticky, after all - that's how they make their living! (Do they wear rubber gloves when inspecting the DVDs? just wondering...) Anyway, Jo-lynn, don't you know those ants U-TURNED, and MARCHED RIGHT BACK INTO THE ENVELOPE?!? - it's a joy watching them work together. Then (making sure no ants were under the self-stick seal of the envelope before I closed it), I marched (!!!) the two DVDs down to the post office and they are now on their way back to you. And most importantly, I can assure you, Jo-lynn, that NO RED ANTS WERE HARMED IN THE RETURNING OF THESE MOVIES. Although I didn't get to view the DVDs (one I didn't even open), I feel no animosity toward you or your company. I love to WATCH ANTS!

  I know, from being a loyal customer for four years, that Netflix is a company that values it's customers and welcomes new and innovative ideas from them. This being said, I have an idea! Maybe you could forward this on to your friends (amigos) in the research and development department. Since you are already shipping these little critters without charging us (your customers) any extra fee, I thought that there would be others (like myself) who would enjoy watching insects working and playing as a TEAM and would gladly pay for the privilege. I know I'm not alone in this - remember the success of the ANT FARM!!! Jo-lynn, I got more enjoyment from watching that ARMY of red ants (I think that's the correct verbiage) march round and round than I got from the last three or four broken DVDs Netflix sent me combined! Really. My idea is this: why not start a DVD rental service that includes insects with the DVD? Kind of like "dinner and a movie". It would be beneficial to the insects as well, because as you know, most folks enjoy eating sweets of some kind while viewing the movie, and this would be good for the insects. Chocolates and lots of coca-cola are my personal favorites - great for ants - red or black (no offense). Hopefully you wouldn't be violating any laws by sending ants (some underage) across state lines. This would be a problem in many states, but probably not in California. I realize (after my many correspondences with your customer service department) that the immigration laws in California are pretty lax.

He's a guy who respects ants (and people too!) of all colors. Of course you would have to charge an extra fee for including the insects (ants, beetles, silverfish, whatever) with the movie rental, but I think this would really enhance the viewers pleasure - I know it did mine! Maybe you could call this service "PET-TRIX", cleverly rhyming it with "NETFLIX"? But the name is totally up to you. Netflix probably has a staff of professionals, dedicated to research and development, who only deal with name-creation. Your online movie categories like "Foreign", "Children", "Gay and Lesbian", etc. make it obvious to me that I am dealing with professionals who know what they are doing!

  Thanks so much, Jo-lynn, for letting me talk to you about this red ant situation, and you can rest assured that they will be back home in Los Gatos (isn't that Spanish for "The Cats?") before you can say "Blockbuster!". Please let me know what you think of my red ant idea - I'm not looking for credit or compensation of any kind. Helping my dear friends at Netflix AND giving my friends THE INSECTS a free vacation (with free meals) is all the thanks I need. It really is a win-win deal for everyone. Thanks Jo-lynn and tell everybody there I said, "Buenos Dias"!

Yours respectfully,
Charlie Dolinger

P.S. I have always enjoyed Dolly Parton's beautiful rendition of "Jolene". From now on, whenever I hear that song, or look at red ants, I'll think of you and all of my dear friends at Netflix.

Dear Charles,

Thanks for your message. 

We appreciate you taking the time to provide us with your feedback and comments. 

I truly apologize for any inconvenience or frustration this experience may have caused. 

We are continually striving to improve our service (now with 100% less RED ANTS!) 

and ensure your concerns are properly addressed.

We sincerely appreciate your patience and understanding. 

Thanks,

Jason

Netflix Customer Service

   That's what I'm talkin' about! Jason gets it, and whether he really cares or not is beside the point – I'm not naïve, I just want to know that I'm not invisible. He at least took the time to insert a parenthetical, personal response into the usual form letter. Apparently, the robots at Netflix didn't have a category for automatically generating a response to queries about red ants in their movies!

   Well folks, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. And today, more than ever, it's important to not take anything or anyone too seriously. Especially yourself. My advice to you is life's too short and eternity's too long to sweat the dumb stuff. Keep on the sunny side, keep the faith, keep fightin' the good fight, and never give up when you're in the right. You may not receive the justice you deserve, but maybe, if you're lucky, you'll get a laugh out of it. And that's what it's all about. If you can't laugh at life, you're in big trouble. No one gets out of here alive. Live, laugh, and love. And tell 'em Lightnin' Charlie sent ya'.

   Later,
LC