I wonder, if you fly can it still be called a road trip?
In any event, I am headed out tomorrow for the American Telemedicine Association Annual convention. My magazine, AnswerStat, is co-sponsoring a special session entitled “The Medical Call Center’s Role in Telemedicine.” Additionally, I will be serving as the event’s moderator. I am really looking forward to it.
Aside from that, I will be snapping pictures for a photo spread in the magazine and networking with attendees and vendors. One of my goals is to develop contacts with industry experts interested in submitting telemedicine and telehealth articles. I will also be handing out and promoting the magazine to potential subscribers. Of course, a bonus will be if I find new advertisers. As an advertiser supported magazine, ads are what makes it all work.
It should be grand fun and I am greatly looking forward to it — once I get there. Conventions are wonderful meeting places, but the travel to get there and back is the part I dread.
Air travel is even more of an ordeal after 9/11. I’ve always traveled light, but now even more so. My goal is not to check luggage and transport everything in one carry on and my laptop bag. This time, I won’t even being taking my laptop. I’ll need to fit my camera, promotion materials, and two changes of clothes in one bag. But that won’t be a problem, I can do it!
So, I won’t be blogging for a while, but not to worry, I’ll be keeping my eyes open for new stories to share.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
When I set up my office several years ago, I invested a great deal of time to produce an optimal configuration, the epitome of efficacy and efficiency. Yet over time, things changed. New technology was interjected, additional office accouterments were added, and the scale of my work increased. As each change was instigated, it never seemed to be a good time to look at the overall function and flow of my workspace.
The immediate intent was always the same: find a place for “it” now and make “it” work as quickly as possible. It is sad but true that even as a partisan and promoter of all things productive, I had allowed my workspace to deteriorate into a den of anarchy – well, not quite, but there were days when organizational chaos was the rule rather than the exception.
One of the changes that occurred during this slippery slide into disarray was switching from a laptop to desktop as my primary computer. The desktop monitor didn’t fit my desk as the laptop had. If I placed the monitor in front of the monitor stand (which was the space previously occupied by my laptop), it was too close. If I set the monitor on the stand, it was too high. In the immediacy of the moment, I set the monitor to the left of the stand, with the intent to devise a better solution when things slowed down.
This “temporary” positioning of my computer monitor lasted three years, causing me to sit askew whenever I worked on my computer – which is most of the time. I astutely discerned that this was not an ideal configuration for my posture or physical comfort. I estimated that it would take about 15 minutes to remove the monitor stand and slide the monitor 18 inches to the right.
“Today is the day,” my inner voice emphatically implored. So after processing the overnight email, I slid under my desk to investigate the complexity of the monitor stand removal process. Five minutes later, it was removed. Gleefully ahead of schedule, I eased the monitor across the desk towards its new home. However, after a mere six inches, only one third of its journey, it came to an abrupt halt. The cable, I surmised, must be caught on something.
I was wrong; there was no more slack. Being practical, I decided to simply move the computer. However, to do that I needed to first move the printer, which opened up space to put stationary bins next to the printer – another “someday” project. I planned to use some of the bins that housed past issues, as I didn’t need to keep copies in my office for as long as I was. I would simply move the unneeded books into storage.
That effort, unfortunately, prompted me to review my inventory of past issues, throw extras away, and reorganize my archives. A half hour later, I was back in the office. One thing led to another. I was three hours into the project and things were scattered everywhere; there was scarcely room to move.
I finally got the computer hooked back up and working, but I still couldn’t work. Things were in too much disarray. By the time I was done, six hours had elapsed. I had relocated every item on my desk (and moved a few things twice), rearranged, sorted, and purged much of my file cabinet contents, made multiple trips to the garbage bin, reprioritized my pending work, disconnected an unneeded gadget, cleaned up the wayward wiring, and even cancelled some phone services that I had ceased using. Whew!
It took several hours, but the results were worth it. I became more efficient and effective. My backlog of tasks no longer overwhelmed me. I felt in control of my work, rather than being controlled by it. Did all this happen merely because I moved my monitor? Indirectly, yes. Moving the monitor made profound and significant ripples, ones that would be felt and appreciated for quite some time.
Some people (and organizations) never make ripples. They just go from day to day, month to month, and year to year without ever giving a thought to the incapacitating office evolution around them. Things are squeezed in here, hooked up there, and stacked on top of, until routine work becomes an illogical series of unneeded steps and wasted activity. Their work becomes harder, but change seems harder still. Taking time to make things more efficient is an inconceivable consideration.
The converse are people (and organizations) that make changes often, seemingly for the fun of it or even out of compulsion. They spend hours restructuring their office and do so every week! They make this time investment so often that there’s never opportunity to realize the payback. They make ripples frequently and often continuously. Some might say they are making waves!
There is another way to make ripples that is far more important. It’s the ripples we produce by the words we use and the things we do. These ripples affect others. Sometimes the ripples we make are positive; other times they are not. Some people make no ripples at all.
We’ve all known people who are chronic complainers; they are consistently negative and seemingly want to pull others into their foul moods. They are evidently not happy, with the apparent goal to drag others down to the depths of their pessimism. They make negative ripples, which produces an undertow. Be aware of such folk or risk being sucked in and pulled down.
Sadly, other people make no ripples at all; they are merely going with the flow. They have no effect on others, neither good nor bad, positive nor negative. Surely at some point, they must have made ripples, but not now. These people aren’t much fun to be around either. There is no progress, no influence, nothing. They inanely meander from project to project and from day to day, in a rote and sad subsistence. No ripples, no fun, no way!
Other people make positive ripples. That’s my goal. I want to have a positive influence on those around me. I want to make ripples that motivate, encourage, inspire, support, and be eagerly anticipated and greatly appreciated. We all know people (and organizations) like that, too. They are the ones with smiling people all around, stirring others to achieve more as they make ripples for the benefit of all.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
Perhaps you’ve heard this story. Imagine you’re sitting in a college class. It’s one of those big classrooms with tiered seating, able to accommodate hundreds of students. The class is assembled with eager expectations; what will the professor do today?
At precisely 8 a.m., he strides in and, without acknowledging the classes’ presence, reaches under the lectern and produces a gallon glass jar. He sits it on a nearby table. Then, he pulls out a box of rocks and sets it next to the jar. Finally, he fixes his gaze on his charges, and with their attention sufficiently garnered, he clears his throat, gestures to the rocks, and asks, “Who would like to show us how much you can fit in the jar?”
Unable to contain himself, an eager-to-impress freshman shoots up his hand. With no other volunteers, he is summoned forward. Desiring to make a profound and positive impression on his instructor, Mr. Eager-to-Impress works quickly but carefully, astutely positioning rocks in the jar until it is satiated.
“Is the jar full?” the professor inquires.
“Yes!” the students reply in strong unison.
“Can you fit any more in the jar?” he deadpans.
“No!” is the enthusiastic chorus.
Next, the instructor produces a bag of pebbles. “How about now?”
The students emit a collective gasp; a hush falls over the room. Mr. Eager-to-Impress is in a quandary. Should he cut his losses and remain silent or attempt to salvage his bravado? Somewhat hesitantly, he raises his hand and is again beckoned forward. With greater care and less haste, he places a handful of pebbles at the top and by tapping, shaking, and rotating the jar, they make their way to fill the gaps below. Satisfied he has done his best, with hopeful confidence he returns to his chair.
“Is the jar full?” the educator again inquires.
“Um, yes,” is the students’ cautious reply.
“Can you fit any more in the jar?” he questions.
“No,” they guardedly answer.
Next, the instructor brings out a pail of sand. Many students begin to smile.
“How about now?”
Eager-to-Impress is not so eager anymore, but he feels his fate has been decided. Without being asked, he slinks back to the table and using the same technique, filters the fine sand through the courser maze of rocks and pebbles. Red-faced, he sits down, anxious for class to end.
The teacher gleefully asks, “Is the jar full now?”
No one will venture a response. Whatever they might say, they fear it would be wrong; plus, no one wants to stand out like Eager-to-Impress.
The professor ignores their silence, “Can you fit any more in the jar?” he questions.
More silence ensues.
With practiced timing, the learners are left to squirm in the hush of the moment. Without a word, the teacher reaches under the podium and brings forth a pitcher of water. Some students groan; others smile.
Unable to contain himself, the skillful educator grins. “How about now?” he inquires.
He doesn’t ask for volunteers and none would be forthcoming anyway. Slowly he begins pouring the water into the jar. Gradually, it permeates every crack and crevice. He fills it to the top and then adds a bit more to overflow the jar. There is no doubt that the jar is now full.
“What can we learn from this?” is his final query.
Eager-to-Impress, wanting to salvage something from this debacle, summons his courage and hesitantly avers, “It means that no matter how much you’ve got goin’ on, you can always fit more in!”
“No,” the professor bellows, pounding his fist on the table for emphasis. “It means that unless you take care of the big things first, they will never get done!”
I have heard several variations of this narrative. Since I have not been unable to track down the source of this tale or its author, I share my version of it, with thanks to an anonymous writer or educator for a valuable lesson shared.
I can confidently state that I am quite adept at handling the pebbles and sand in my life, topping it off with an abundant supply of water to make things seem complete. However, I’ve discovered that it requires forethought and intentionality for me to handle the rocks, those big and important things. I find that without careful planning and deliberate action, the big stuff gets put off until tomorrow. It becomes all too easy to go from day to day, week to week, month to month, and even year to year, attending only to life’s minutia, without addressing its priorities.
Everyone is busy; it’s endemic. We are busy at work and leave to be busy at home; we are busy with rest and recreation and busier still on vacation, needing to go back to work to rest up. All too often, our busyness distracts us from what is important, from what really matters, those things that could truly make a difference. I’ve pondered my own busyness and am working towards a cure.
Time Management doesn’t usually bring relief or reduce stress, it just squeezes more into an already full day. Turn time management on its head, using it to control how we spend our time so that we do less.
Multitasking is not really doing two things at once; it is merely quickly switching back and forth. Computers do this well; the human mind is not as adept. For us people, multitasking is actually inefficient and counter-productive.
Keep a Time Log to fully comprehend what you do and how long you spend (or waste) on it; the results will likely shock you.
Just Say No to some things – even good things – in order to protect yourself from over-committing and therefore being too busy to do anything well.
Set Limits to how much you work, otherwise you will end up working as much as you are physically and mentally able, leaving no significant time for anything else.
Know Yourself: My tendency is to handle the pebbles and sand at the beginning of my day and then attend to the rocks in the afternoon – if there is time. This is not wise, as my time of greatest focus and peak energy is in the morning. Ironically, I was handling trivial stuff at my peak, while reserving the important tasks for my low point. I’ve noted a similar cycle throughout the week and another that is seasonal. It takes a concerted, ongoing effort, but I strive to prioritize key tasks for times of peak energy, while delegating lesser activities to lulls in the day.
Do First Things First: Once you’ve taken steps to resume control over life’s activities, there is then time to attend to the big things. Without the cumulative pressures of countless trivial concerns, there is the freedom to focus on the important, the life-altering, and the significant, removing us from the rut that all too easily goes from day to day, week to week, month to month, and even year to year – all without notable advancement.
Please join me today in putting first things first.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
Children’s Health Network hosted the Fourth Annual National Telehealth Conference from September 27th through 29th in suburban Minneapolis, MN. The Conference attracted over 130 medical professionals from twenty-seven states in the US, as well as Canada and Japan. Continuing medical education credits (CMEs) for physicians were offered, along with contact hours (CEUs) for nurses. Over twenty-five, entities provided support in the form of grants, fees, and donations. (View photo coverage.)
Featured presenters included:
Barton Schmitt, MD; The Children’s Hospital, Denver and University of Colorado
David Thompson, MD; MacNeal Hospital, Chicago
L. Read Sulik, MD; CentraCare Health System, St. Cloud, MN
Andrew Hertz, MD; Rainbow Babies and Children’s Hospital, Cleveland
Dory Baker, RN, CNP; AE-C; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Charles Crutchfield, III, MD; Crutchfield Dermatology, Eagan, MN
Peter Dehnel, MD; Children’s Physician Network
Elizabeth Gilles, MD; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Michelle Hulse, MD; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Daniel Halvorsen, III, PhD; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Phillip Kibort, MD; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Kelli Massaro, RN, BSN; The Children’s After Hours Telephone Care Program, Denver
Lisa Patrick; University of Kansas, Kansas City
Lee Pyles, MD; University of Minnesota, Minneapolis
Elizabeth Skinner, BSN, JD; Minneapolis, MN
Sherry Smith, RN, MSN, MBA; 3CN, Gilford, NH
Patsy Stinchfield, RN, CNP; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Michele VanVranken, MD; Children’s Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
I recently entered into a casual conversation with friends; they were talking about chess. One gave me a sideways glance, “You play?” It was stated as a question, but an underlying astonishment was embedded. I nodded affirmatively.
“Any good?” came the follow-up query.
Good is relative. Tournament good, I am not; casual-player good, I am. When I play I am generally pleased with the results, yet I chose to not respond directly. “I haven’t played for a while,” I evaded. That seemed to satisfy his curiosity.
My cousins had taught me how to play when I was young. My parents were a bit dubious that I could grasp the complexities of the game. Seeking to protect me from possible frustration and disappointment, they urged caution and tried to lower my expectations. Bravely, I forged ahead. The older of the cousins patiently taught me the names of the pieces and how they moved. He would gently quiz me to gauge my comprehension of his tutelage. Soon we were playing a real game. Despite my novice errors and memory lapses, it was grand fun. We played until he grew weary, so I moved on to his siblings. They had less tolerance for my sloppy play and geeky exuberance; by mid-afternoon, the board was put away, and we were on to other things.
The next morning, I challenged my instructor-cousin to a game. Before the day was done, I had won my first game. He rallied, winning the next two, but I sensed I was beginning to challenge him, and he feigned boredom with the game. I then plied his younger brother. Discerning that I had now advanced enough to not be too demeaning, he condescended to pick up where his brother left off. By the time their visit concluded, I was hooked, opening the door to the adventure of chess and some valuable lessons:
Practice Makes Perfect: Although my desire to play was strong, the opportunities to do so were limited. Not to be deterred, I would play against myself. Sometimes I would play the white pieces (which move first and takes the offensive); other times I would take the black side (which responds and defends). Sometimes, I would switch sides midway through the game, giving up an advantage of a superior position to assume a lesser one. When the time came for a real game, I was ready; the time spent practicing paid huge dividends.
Read All About It: Although enjoyable, playing against myself began having diminishing returns, so I turned to books. I studied the classic opening moves, which actually have names and are categorized, with variations of play and recommended defenses. In a serious game, I open with my king’s pawn; conversely, I have trouble defending a queen’s pawn open. I also learned techniques, like the pin, the knight fork (a personal favorite), discovered check (a great way to confound one’s opponent), and gambits, as well as end game tactics.
Next, I zeroed in on the book, “How to Beat Bobby Fischer.” The premise was that in tournament play it was statistically more probable to beat Fischer than to force a draw – of course, he was nine times more likely to win than to lose. I actually read, studied, and reenacted many of the 61 games he lost. To improve, I needed to study for my master’s.
Don’t Quit: The unspoken credo among my chess-playing buddies was to never concede a game. No matter how dire the situation, we would play to the end without quitting. Resigning a chess game was for those of lesser character.
Having this perspective taught me how to be a good winner and to be kind and gracious to the personage of my opponent, all the while dismantling his army and forcing his king into an acrimonious checkmate. I wanted to win decisively, but I did not desire to belittle my opponent or assault his self-esteem- after all, I would want to play him again!
Playing to the end also taught me how to be valiant, remaining strong and dignified in defeat. That is much harder – especially when the vanquishing conqueror is relishing his impending victory a bit too much. Yet these are the moments when a character is strengthened and perfected.
Make it Fun: Sometimes, we would play “rapid chess” where we had to move within five seconds. We had no timer, so it was self-policing. It made us think astutely and react quickly. I had a knack for it, being able to hurriedly assess a situation and make a snap decision that was founded on a hastened logic, often couched with intuition or consisting of gut reaction. Games only lasted a few minutes and were so intense that it only took a couple to induce a headache.
I sometimes employed this “rapid chess” mindset in a regular game. Although my hurried moves were not always ideal, the unending swiftness of my responses would unnerve my opponent, causing him to get flustered and make blunders. From his perspective, it was always his turn, causing him to intently concentrate. I, on the other hand, was able to relax and have fun. I realized that it is often better to make a quick decision based on initial reactions and facts than to wait and make the ideal determination that might not seize the moment.
Try Again: Losing isn’t fun, but it does happen. I learned to accept these disappointments as inevitable and to grow through them, thereby becoming a better person. It is a truism that one can grow more in defeat than in victory.
It is also important to not wallow in self-pity and incrimination when these setbacks occur but to shake off the disappointment and forge into the future. So, regardless of how close I came to winning or how big the loss was, my first response was invariably, “Wanna play again?”
Change the Rules if You Need: My track buddy, Spenser, didn’t play chess. I tried to teach him, but his attention span was too short. Spenser grew tired of being left out of the action, so he one day suggested a different game. He blurted out, “Let’s play checkers – all-kings-jump-your-own-man.” I’m not sure if he made that up or not, but I was game. We used my chess set, arranging the pieces like checkers. Since every piece was automatically a king, they could move both forward and backward. Also, you could jump your own piece (though you left it on the board) to catapult yourself into enemy territory to jump your opponent’s pieces. It was a wild game and Spenser played it with great abandon and immense joy. He changed the rules to make a game we could enjoy together, and I was happy to oblige.
To imply that life is like a game of chess is a shallow metaphor. However, just as a good game of chess requires an articulate strategy and reasoned approach, so does operate a call center with excellence or living a life that is meaningful.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
In my office is an evocative black and white aerial photo of my grandfather’s chicken farm, circa 1960. Grandpa and Dad ran the farm, along with a revolving assortment of hired help. The farm accommodated 15,000 hens. Four buildings housed “layers,” with eggs being the farm’s principle product. Each building was staged, with the hens’ age being staggered by four months. When egg production for a building would taper off, those hens would be sold, ending up in cans of condensed chicken-noodle soup. (The ratio of cans per chicken intrigues me to this day.) The fifth building was the “pullet” house; think of it as the nursery.
Every four months, the hens from the oldest building would be sent to market, the vacated coop cleaned, disinfected, and refurbished, and the maturing chicks from the pullet house would move in. Then the pullet house would be similarly prepped. It was exciting for me when the hatchlings were delivered. They would arrive unassumingly, transported in cardboard cartons, with 100 per, and delivered via station wagon. The shrill cacophony of their combined chirping was surely deafening to the driver; even in the open space of their new abode, their peeping was audibly overwhelming. I took great joy in my small role of liberator, watching their cute, yellow, fluffy bodies scurry in all directions from a gently upturned box.
As a preschooler, I would sometimes get to go with Dad to gather eggs; it was great fun – for the first 10 minutes. I quickly learned to avoid nests with hens in them; they would peck the back of your hand. Even the jersey gloves with cut-off fingers that Dad wore seemed to be inadequate protection. I resorted to gathering eggs from empty nests located in the lower rows that I could reach. On one occasion, I needed to rest and sat on a little stool. Only it wasn’t a stool; it was a basket of eggs. I broke half of them before I could extricate myself. I was mortified. Dad patiently cleaned me off, and I think Grandpa laughed.
Unfortunately, due to health issues for Dad and Grandpa’s desire to retire, the farm was shut down and the hens sold. The next day, as I took my usual shortcut to school though the back of the farm, I spotted a wayward hen who had escaped the deportation. “Can I keep it?” I plied Mom and Dad. Dad couldn’t say no, garnering me a private supply of eggs.
My hen produced an egg every 27 hours. (The exact laying cycle varies with breed, age, diet, environment, and season.) This was a bit short of my hope for an egg a day, so I considered a second hen. That would be more eggs than I needed, so I would share with my family. Why stop at two, my young mind reasoned. Six hens would produce enough for everyone, with some left over. A dozen hens would mean eggs to sell. How far could it grow? Soon my naive entrepreneurialism envisioned me helping feed and support my family.
I’m not sure if I shared this vision with Dad, but when I asked for a second hen, it was granted. Dad picked a strong, robust hen; she was a fine specimen, and I was ecstatic. Unfortunately, my two hens didn’t get along, with the new one dominating and then attacking the original. Even with a larger pen, the abuse continued, production dropped, and soon my cherished pet was dead, killed by her associate and ostensibly by my desire for more.
But this isn’t a story about chickens; it’s really about people. It’s not a commentary on greed or a rant against capitalism, but rather a call for balance and pragmatism.
Bigger is Not Always Better: Sometimes less is more; enough said.
Increased Scope Produces Increased Challenges: I was a successful farmer of one chicken. I wrongly assumed that if I could raise one, two would not be a problem. After all, it’s a scalable concept. I never dreamed that I would have “labor” issues to deal with – it never came up in a one chicken operation!
All too often, call centers expand their operation without considering the ramifications. They forget that a bigger operation will require more support and add new, yet unforeseen challenges. This often occurs when a successful, one location, operation opens up a second center. Suddenly neither location is doing well. It might be they have the wrong management style, maybe leadership became distracted, or perhaps the requisite infrastructure was lacking.
Value What You Have: I took my hen for granted. When a better one came along, I jumped at the opportunity. I’ve done the same with employees; maybe you have too. You have people whose work may not be stellar, but who have been steady, faithful, and dependable for years. Then a bright-eyed, eager-to-please applicant arrives and the next thing you know, the new employee has chased away the proven one. It’s only then you realize that the newer model wasn’t the solution you thought, but it’s too late; you messed things up by longing for something better.
Be Content: We live in a society that is seldom satiated and always lusts for more. It’s not bad to have dreams and set goals; in fact, it is good to do so and detrimental to lack aspirations. However, when the push for more becomes the focus, the best parts of life begin to become obscure, going unnoticed and becoming unrealized.
The first step is to truly distinguish between needs and wants. So many things that we think we need are, in reality, not necessary and merely a nice extra. In the big picture, how important is a larger house, a newer car, a grander vacation, and more “toys?” Will they bring joy and satisfaction or just make you more tired as a result of the added pressures ownership brings?
Ask yourself, “When was the last time that I actually wore out an article of clothing, as opposed to merely getting bored with it or it becoming too tight?” This is starting to get at the crux of the issue. Being content with what we have is a good place to strive for; learning to be content with less is even better – and still leaves us ahead of the majority of people on the planet.
Don’t get so busy counting your chickens before they hatch that you miss out on what you already have.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
I tend to put off buying things. It’s not because I procrastinate (at least not too much), or because I am adverse to making decisions, or even because it’s a money issue. Sadly, the reason that I often avoid purchasing what I want or need is simply because it is too much of a hassle. More to the point, going without some items is less inconvenient than investing the time and enduring the frustration required to acquire them.
Recently I wanted to change my cell phone package and add a couple of phones. Eventually, I summoned my resolve and committed to overcome my shopping-avoidance issues. My intent was to simply call my existing carrier and place my order. The agent confirmed that my contractual obligation had been fulfilled and would not hinder me in making any changes. “What I want,” I explained, “is to get on your ‘family plan’ and add a couple of phones.”
“That’s not a problem,” the rep assured. “Each additional phone is only 10 dollars a month, and some phones are free if you sign a one-year contract…and,” she added, “we can replace your current phone too.”
This was seemingly too good to be true, but before I could tell her to proceed, my short-lived euphoria was interrupted. “Oh, there’s a problem…”
The problem was that they required me to be on a plan with more minutes – many more. Doing so, and adding only one more phone, would more than double my rate. I’m not adverse to spending money – just to wasting it. This restriction didn’t seem very “family” oriented, and I told her so. I plied every option I could think of: more phones, fewer phones, longer contract, and not replacing my current phone. She was intractable, “No, you still need to move to a bigger plan.”
Then I tried an emotional gambit. “I guess I’ll just need to cancel my service and to go another carrier.”
The rep’s response was one of shocking gall and arrogance, “If you need to, go ahead, but you won’t find a better deal,” she stated matter-of-factly and lacking concern. “We’ve all got basically the same rates.”
Now it was time for plan B: switch carriers. Perhaps I needed to talk to someone face to face, to do business with a local person who would take a personal interest helping me complete my quest. On my next outing, I stopped by the local store of a national carrier that does lots of TV advertising. There were several aspects of their pitch that appealed to me. I was confident that they had a plan for me, and I intended on completing my mission in one stop.
I walked in the door and as my eyes adjusted to the lighting, a stereotypical salesperson charged towards me – he must have been on commission. Brashly, he ushered me into his office and grilled me on what I wanted. With each request, he would nod knowingly and affirm that he could do that. He was typing things in a computer and then gave me a total. His solution was twice the amount of the quote from the first carrier. I guess the rates are not all the same after all.
I couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity – which seemed to irritate him. “Okay, now let’s get realistic,” I suggested.
“Nope, that’s the best I can do,” he retorted. Thinking we were still pursuing a mutually desired goal, I begin to reply, but he stood up and gestured towards the door. “Sorry, I can’t help you,” he concluded disingenuously.
Not ready to give up, I asked if he had any literature about what we had discussed. “We don’t have any,” he retorted with smug aggravation. “It’s all online; just go to our Website and order your phones there.”
In five short minutes, I went from “ready to buy” to unable to leave quickly enough. I later learned that there was, in fact, a much more attractive package, closely matching what I wanted; I would have bought it from him had he only offered it. Maybe he wasn’t on commission after all.
On to plan C: Consider all remaining options. My daughter did some research online, and together we came up with a plan of attack. I called the most promising carrier on the list and verified my understanding of the details. Everything was confirmed and a sale was imminent.
Lastly, I asked if a specific city was covered. “Yes, it is,” the rep stated a bit too quickly for my liking. I doubted his veracity and prodded some more. He could not be dissuaded, but doubting his honesty, I ended the call without placing an order. It was good that I did, as we later learned that the city in question was annexed from the coverage plan. I have been lied to – imagine that!
We then discussed our remaining options and visited the website of our fourth selection. Thinking I would once more attempt working with a local rep, I called their closest office. After several rings, a recording informed me that no one was available and summarily disconnected me. Next I dialed their toll free number. This rep was actually helpful, the first truly pleasant and knowledgeable person I had talked to during this whole ordeal. She patiently and professionally answered my questions, confirmed the plan’s coverage, and told me about their 14-day, no-obligation trail. I placed an order, and the phones arrived the next day.
If cell phone companies can’t get a handle on decreasing their churn rates, I can help – I have a lot of ideas. However, in the broader perspective and beyond cell phones, it doesn’t matter if you are taking a message for a doctor, answering a medical question, scheduling an appointment, or locating the nearest doctor for a caller. Everyone who works in a call center needs to remember that it is effectively the caller who signs your paycheck. If you don’t treat them well, they will go away – and so might your job!
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
Once thought of as a call center luxury, call recordings (also known as voice loggers) were used exclusively to document agent conversations with callers. However, call recorders are no longer just a tool to prove who said what or how it was spoken. Call loggers have proven themselves invaluable as a training tool, for agent self-evaluation, for quality control, and most recently, as a call compliance device.
Some systems record all headset audio, both during calls and between calls. This can offer additional insight about a call that just took place, as well as agents’ perceptions of their jobs and employers. It can also raise privacy concerns. Other systems record only the call audio and not idle conversions with co-workers in between calls. Some systems can work in either mode, allowing the call center management to decide which is appropriate for their center.
Before recording any calls, check into the legal issues with an attorney familiar with your state’s laws. The biggest factor is whether one or both parties need to be made aware that recording is taking place. Agents should always be notified when call recording is happening (one-party notification); notification to the customer can be made by a preamble recording (“This call may be monitored or recorded for quality assurance purposes”) or a periodic beep tone (two-party notification)
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
Does your call center make the caller or patient a priority? I expect that it does. In fact, I suspect that the phrase “customer service” is found somewhere in your mission or vision statement, etched on a wall plaque, proclaimed in your marking material, and oft cited by upper management.
However, as is often said, “talk is cheap” and “actions speak louder than words.” So the question becomes, do you actually provide quality customer service or just talk about it? Has the vocabulary of providing world-class customer service been bandied about so often that you – and the entire organization – have been falsely convinced that it is a reality, when in fact it has no basis in truth?
An astute reader may remember a previous column, “A $175 Oil Change“, in which the local car dealership charged $175, accomplishing no tangible results other than changing the oil. This was the only impetus I needed to return to the trustworthy comfort and integrity of my local service station, where I continue to be a loyal and supportive customer of their car care services. Unfortunately, the day that I dreaded came last summer, when they informed me that repairing my heat-generating air conditioner was beyond the scope of their services; I would need to take the car to the dealer.
With trepidation, I walked into the dealer’s brightly lit and tastefully decorated service department. As I walked up to the “customer service” desk, a representative, clad in business attire with smart-looking tie, greeted me. I explained the problem and, knowing their mode of operation all too well, asked for an estimate. With a confidence-building smile and positive words of assuredness, he sent me on my way.
His phone call came shortly after I returned to the office: $1,575! Following my dumbfounded silence, he launched into an extended explanation, mixing mechanic jargon and automotive terminology – which I doubt even he fully understood – seemingly aimed to intimidate me into accepting their costly diagnosis. “Let’s get realistic,” I challenged him, determined to not be victimized again.
The representative apologized that he had no other options and admitted that his “hands were tied.” I declined to authorize the repair and arranged to pick up the car. He kept repeating, “I’m sorry; I know I’ve lost you as a customer.”
It took some time, but eventually I heard about a full-service garage with a reputation for honesty. I took the car in. Sitting in a small and somewhat dingy office with a dated décor and amidst organized clutter, I explained the chronology of events, sharing the dealer’s written estimate. The owner of the garage chose his words carefully, “Well, they could be right, but I think we can get it working for much less.” He had a $185 solution that he wanted to try. I followed his recommendation. He was right.
The dealership had talked ad-nauseam about their top-notch customer service in their ads, promotions, mailings, and sales pitch. They even put on an impressive front, but there was no substance; to them, customer service seemed to be maximizing the repair bill. The garage, on the other hand, didn’t talk about customer service; they just did it.
A second saga is equally illustrative. My wife and I went to rent a movie with a two-for-one coupon in hand and the residual amount from a gift certificate on account. Our expectation was that we would each pick a movie and pay for them using the coupon and credit balance. We were wrong.
The first sign of trouble came in the checkout line, when the clerk could not pull us up in their computer. “We got new computers,” he said curtly as he continued typing in vain. After much too long, he impatiently demanded, “When were you last here?” Our answer irritated him. “Well, that’s your problem,” he announced. “We gotta put ya in again.”
As he scanned the DVDs, I handed him the coupon. “We don’t accept these,” he declared disdainfully. Dumbfounded, I asked why. “It’s for Acme Video Hits and we’re Acme Video Plus now.” I pointed to an in-store sign displaying Acme Video Hits. “We got bought out and they voided all the coupons. It happened three months ago,” he explained exasperatedly, as though this was common knowledge of which only ignorant people were unaware. “We haven’t changed our signs yet.” He typed some more. “That will be seven dollars.”
“You charged us the price for current releases,” I informed him, pointing to a sign for 99-cent rentals of older movies.
“But you got DVDs,” he said with a slight roll of the eyes. “Ninety-nine cents is only for VHS.” He paused and, saving me from another query, added, “They changed that, too.” An unfruitful discussion ensued and he summoned “the manager” when I inquired our credit balance, which had been lost during the acquisition or computer upgrade.
The manager appeared and summarized anew the critical information that we had pieced together from the unwitting clerk. He stated the company line and confirmed the price of seven dollars. However, he soon relented and eventually offered to partially accept our coupon, zero out the balance on our unverifiable account, and only charge us three dollars.
Sensing this was the best we could do, I accepted his offer and thanked him. He smiled broadly and shook my hand, assuming he had resolved a conflict and retained a customer. My wife and I, however, left with a far different perspective. The uncaring clerk had simply dug too big of a hole for his boss to climb out of; damage had been done – we never returned.
It wasn’t until another movie rental chain opened a local outlet that we rented again. We walked in and hesitantly approached the counter. Michelle smiled broadly and genuinely welcomed us. Upon learning that we were first-time customers, she carefully and patiently explained how everything worked, including the store layout, membership, prices, and the specials. Her pleasant and easy-going demeanor put us at ease.
As we began browsing, clerks would momentarily appear, helpfully restating a tidbit of information, providing direction, or offering assistance, then moving away as stealthy as they appeared. This was not like my usual retail experience.
When it came time to pay, Michelle, reiterated the value of membership and reinforced the specials. She even did a successful up-sell – which seldom works with me – to pre-pay for several movies, thereby earning a discount; this was quite a feat considering our prior experience with having a credit balance. But when one has a compelling offer that is presented with infectious enthusiasm, it is easy to be successful.
From these experiences, it is clear that to be successful, customer service needs to be more than just a slogan. It needs to be a strategy, one that is fully and successfully implemented with the callers’ and patients’ best interest in mind.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
I am a bit of a movie buff. Among my more arcane interests is a fixation with memorable, unique, or humorous lines from films. Some phrases make their way into pop-culture, such as Clint Eastwood, pointing his ominous sidearm and snarling, “Go ahead, make my day.”
Others transcend generations, as did Rhett’s infamous rebuff of Scarlet in Gone with the Wind. Then there was Jaws when the great white was first seen in its entirety and the sheriff intoned with deadpan seriousness, “I think we need a bigger boat.” A passage from Twister produces a smile every time I recall it: “You know when you used to tell me you chased tornadoes? Deep down, I always thought it was a metaphor.”
More recently is the poignant and powerful, “We are…Marshall” from the movie of the same name.
The acclaimed and award winning movie As Good as it Gets has many memorable lines. My all time favorite occurs when Melvin seemingly fumbles yet another effort to impress Carol, but then recovers nicely with his touching confession, “You make me want to be a better man.”
For over twenty years, a reoccurring phrase from the Blues Brothers, however, has left me bemused and perplexed. I am still not sure if I should be offended or merely amused with the protagonist’s assertion, “We’re on a mission from God.”
The “mission” of this critically disparaged, yet once popular film, might seem to be simply to levy mayhem and destruction upon the city of Chicago. However, the dubious epiphany of Jake and Elwood is to “put the band back together.”
As mission statements go, this one seems trivial and unsophisticated. Yet, it possesses both simple eloquence and empowering efficacy. When most organizations develop a mission statement, they spend months or even years creating the perfect blend of sentiment, intention, and promise, often presenting it in flowery or verbose fashion.
The result of this effort gets added to the employee handbook, printed on marketing pieces, and engraved on a plaque prominently positioned in the main lobby. In reality, these lengthy sentiments are often nothing but a thinly disguised marketing effort and not a mission statement at all.
A good and effective mission statement has several important characteristics. It needs to:
be readily understood by those to whom it applies,
provide direction and guidance in everyday decision making, and
be short and concise, allowing all stakeholders to learn it, follow it, and internalize it.
Unfortunately, most organizations’ mission statements do not fit any of these criteria. The Blues Brothers’ mission does. Every time it is shared, it is immediately understood; it provides direction (albeit, often excessively) and it is easily learned, followed, and internalized.
Still their mission seems trivial and inconsequential. That is because behind every mission, there is a supporting vision. The vision of the Blues Brothers is to raise money and save the orphanage that reared them and which has now fallen on hard times. This vision is why their mission is so important. The mission is not the end, but rather a means to the end, that of saving the orphanage.
Mission and vision, however, are still not enough. Just as the mission is supported by a vision, the vision is deployed through goals. The goals of the Blues Brothers are simple and progressive: contact former and prospective band members, get them to join the group, hold a benefit concert, and give the money to the orphanage.
Therefore, the Blues Brothers’ “business plan” might be summarized as follows:
Mission: Put the band back together Vision: Save the orphanage Goals:
Contact musicians
Form group
Hold concert
Give proceeds to orphanage
With this basic, yet effective example as a backdrop, now it is time for some introspection. Does your organization or department have a mission? A vision? What are your goals? If you do not have a mission statement, now is the time to develop one.
Start today; do not delay. Make sure your staff is supported by and directed through an effective and practical mission statement; do not let them flounder. Remember the astute passage from the book of Proverbs, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”
If you already have a mission statement, is it the hang-on-the-wall, marketing-ploy type or the succinctly worded axiom that directs daily actions and guides staff decisions? Maybe your stated purpose falls within this small minority of real, true mission statements.
If so, is it short and concise enough for your staff to learn, follow, and internalize? Is it readily understood by all? Does it really, in practical actuality, serve as a guide for daily decisions and actions?
The conventional wisdom is that creating a mission and forming a vision is a group activity, something that is done by a committee, with input and review throughout the organization. This is done to get the “buy-in” of all stakeholders.
Yet the reality is that when a mission is developed in this fashion, it becomes irrelevant as turnover occurs and staff attrition takes its toll. Then, every few years, as the statement becomes increasingly meaningless and obsolete, a new committee is required and more meetings take place to craft a new declaration.
I feel that this group methodology to creating a mission is the wrong approach. Yes, you do need to have the support of your staff for your mission, but its origin and construction is a leadership issue. The mission must come from the top.
Then it needs to be communicated, not once, not from time-to-time, but frequently and on an ongoing basis. Over time, it will be embraced by those it is intended to support. In due course, it will become understood and internalized.
Via the example of leadership first, and management second, your mission statement will begin to permeate the entire organization and start to direct actions and guide decisions. With this as the expected outcome, make the initial draft or review of your mission statement your top priority; your future may be at stake.
Peter Lyle DeHaan, PhD, is the publisher and editor-in-chief of AnswerStat and Medical Call Center News covering the healthcare call center industry. Read his latest book, Sticky Customer Service.
