The Customer is Always Wrong

Yesterday I found myself in the stressful position of returning a pair of headphones to Fnac. I purchased them just 5 weeks ago in the sale and, unfortunately, they stopped working in one ear. Armed with my receipt, I politely explained the situation to the surly man on the After Sales counter and awaited my fate. On this occasion, he reluctantly agreed to exchange my product, but not without first pointing out that I had owned the item for almost a month and a half, so what did I expect....? Mmmm…..maybe I should read the small print on my ONE YEAR GUARANTEE.

Unfortunately, this kind of situation is common place here in Belgium. As much as I love living here and all the warm and magical people that surround me, I will never get used to the Belgian approach to customer service. After growing up in a climate where the customer is always right, - even if he punches you in the face - I don’t understand why I am compelled to endure being treated like a criminal for being in possession of a faulty product and having to apologise for even daring to approach a shop assistant when they are in the process of stacking shelves.

Yet nobody ever seems to complain. Nobody here seems even slightly irritated at having to queue for half an hour at the sole open till as shop assistants stroll around chatting merrily and doing precious little else. On occasion, I have made futile attempts at airing my grievances. There is never a manager to speak to, but on the rare occasion there is, your issues are met with reactions that vary from indifference to outright mirth. Figures of superiority without fail side with their co-workers and have zero tolerance for aggrieved customers.

Lack of basic training and motivation is clearly one of the underlying factors, leaving staff indifferent and undynamic. The Post Office at Brussels Schuman is a good example. A colleague of mine once queued there for more than 20 minutes to buy some first class stamps, only to be met with outrage; "We don’t sell stamps here".  As he pondered incredulously over the purpose of this enterprise, the little old lady queuing behind him offered to sell him a book of stamps  that she was carrying in her purse. Maybe that’s not a bad business idea; setting up a stall selling stamps outside the post office.

It was far from the best decision I have ever made to buy a bike at Decathalon. I probably would have got better after-service care from a car boot sale. Decathlon has surprisingly late opening hours compared to other Belgian retail outlets and, handily, I can pop to the Liege branch on my street until as late as 7.30pm. I once went there around 6.30pm for a minor repair to my still-under-guarantee bike, only to be told by the department representative that he was too busy and that I should come back the day after and implying that I shouldn’t expect any form of service if I have the gall to show up at the shop after 6pm. All the while he was standing under a gigantic sign that read: 'Service Express' I made a mental note to book a day off work for any future inner tube replacements.

For many years, I have frequented swish salad restaurant Le Bruit Qui Court who recently closed their doors for several months to undergo refurbishment. I was quite surprised on my last visit there to see minimal amendments to the previous décor and that in essence, they had just ripped out the bar to create extra space for tables. They must have had a 50% increase in potential diners. But had there been a boost in the number of staff? Had there buffalo! There were just two waiters working at lightning speed to ensure that all those hungry mouths got fed. The result was that we waited over an hour for our first drink and then got served the aperitif and starter simultaneously. When one of the poor waiters eventually leaned over to pour my wine, the stale body odour he was exuding was almost enough to put me off my scallops (almost!). This system is just based on pure greed, over-exerting staff to the point of abuse and dissuading customers from leaving tips. Restaurateurs may think they are the winners, but when mistakes such as forgetting to include the wine on the bill inevitably occur, as in this instance, they are also left out of pocket.

Unfortunately, I don’t see the status quo changing any time in the near future , but,  ladies and gentleman, if I am not alone in my plight and you have an axe to grind, please feel free to use the space on this page to name and shame any societies or patrons that have treated you like anything other than royalty.