A tale of two very different customer service experiences

I firmly believe that credit should be given where credit is due, as the saying goes. But equally, especially in this day and age, bad consumer experiences should also be shared.

So here is my tale of two very different customer service experiences in the past month:

Experience 1:
At the beginning of August I was over in Kildare Village outlet and I had previously been looking at the DKNY Cosi. It's a cardigan, in lovely soft wool, that you can wear in 12 different ways. It was affordable and it was also reduced by 20 something euro on the day I went in - so I bought it.

I love it and I am learning all the different ways to wear it. Last week I was over in Kildare Village again and I happened to be wearing it. I dropped in to the DKNY shop and asked one of the sales staff if she could show me one of the ways to wear it, which she did, with a smile and a 'no problem, drop back anytime'.

I don't wear the cardigan everyday, it's a kind of a 'for good wear' piece of clothing. So, I was surprised last week to notice that the wool on the inside of the sleeve had started to fray and as the knit os so delicate, I could not imagine myself being able to repair it.

I went back over to Kildare Village today with the cardigan and I asked one of the sales girls to have a look at it. She was genuinely interested and she apologised. She said she would need to speak to a manager so off she went to find one. Within three minutes she had returned with a brand new Cosi in its plastic wrapping. Just like that!

I was stunned to be honest. There was no arguing, no quibble. The garment was just replaced - that was that. She was so polite and helpful. My daughter was with me and I said out loud 'I am very impressed by the customer service in here' and I noticed a couple of the other sales staff smiling at me.

I genuinely can't speak highly enough about the efficiency of response and how satisfied I am with the whole experience.

Job well done Kildare VIllage!
Job well done DKNY!
Job well done Irish sales staff!

Experience 2:
Now for an example of how not to do customer service.

Again, earlier in the month I was buying a birthday present for an 8 year old VIP in our house. It was lego - we all love lego and all get great enjoyment from it.

I was in the Art and Hobby Shop in Newbridge with said eight year old and I spied the leo he was asking for, for his birthday. Alien lego. Bingo! Double bingo - there was 25% off it.

On the quiet and while the eight year old's back was turned, I asked if one of the sets could be put away. I said I would be in without him in tow to fix up. I was told there was no problem and assured that the 25% would be taken off the price.

I was thrilled.

A good few days later I went back in to collect the lego and it had gone back up to full price which was a difference of almost 25 euro for the set. I explained to the person that I had been assured I would have it at the sales price. He looked at me silently and hesitated. He gave a half shrug and mumbled something. The price was the price that was on it. I asked if there was a likelihood of there being another sale and I was told the sale was over, the lego discount was finished.

I reluctantly parted with my money and got the birthday present.

A couple of days later I went back into the shop as I saw one of the girls I had originally dealt with. I told her that it was very unfair of them to have done what they did. Again I was met with a shrug and a limp explanation 'oh we had no phone number for you.......'

And then you know that thing that happens when a sales or customer relations person wants to get rid you? Yes THAT. When a second sales person comes and acts as backup and repeats, parrot like, what the first sales person has said? Yes that! Making it seem as if you are being rude or loud, which I wasn't

It was dreadful.

So then back to today and I was in the Art and Hobby shop and what did I spy? Yes the LEGO sale of 25% off is in fact back on in the shop and will run until 1st September. quelle surprise? I was disgusted.

I went up to the counter and I explained what had happened and she said 'Oh we did think of you!' REALLY?

I told her that I thought it was spectacularly unfair of the shop. I asked for the details of the head office for Art and Hobby in ireland and wait for it ......... I was told the following:
'I can't give out the number for the head office so you will have to take it up with our manager'.

Blunt. Rude. Abrupt.

Very badly done ART AND HOBBY SHOP!
Very badly done by the staff.
I wonder are Lego aware of the way their customer relations are being handled.

So we took and will take our business to Smyth's or Tescos.

Oh I know the difference was only 25 euro, you might say. 25 euro is 25 euro, but it was not so much the money, it was the attitude and the rudeness and the complete lack of reasonability by the staff and the store.

A chalk and cheese experience.

So I am off now to google DKNY to send or post on FB a positive feedback message and I am off to google the head office for Art and Hobby Shop, because the staff in their Whitewater shop would not give it to me. I think they might be interested in reading my letter....... but then again. maybe they won't.

Words from Ashley Rice

I found this today on a bookmark. It is a piece written by Ashley Rice:

You are a lover of words.....one day you will write a book

People turn to you because you give voice to dreams, notice little things, and make otherwise impossible imaginings appear real.

You are a rare bird who thinks the world is beautiful enough to try to figure it out, who has the courage to dive into your wild mind and go swimming there.

You are someone who still believes in cloud watching, people watching, daydreaming, tomorrow, favourite colours, silver clouds, dandelions, and sorrow.

Be sacred. Be cool. Be wild. Go far.

Words do more than plant miracle seeds. With you writing them, they can change the world.

Ashley Rice

I just want to be OK today

Today is the fifth anniversary of my stem cell transplant. For most people who have cancer, the five year mark is something to be celebrated and a sort of security blanket - if I have made it to five years then I am going to be ok - right?

With myeloma [bone marrow cancer] there are no guarantees and it's a case of taking it a day, week, month and year at a time and that is fine - really!

I did not imagine that I would still be here five years later. This day five year's ago I was so sick. I was full of hope that the stem cell transplant would be a success, but I was scared at times, very very scared.

It has been an amazing five years and not just because I have gotten to do some amazing things like:

1. Having Brian Kennedy play a private concert in my room
2. Getting to take a family holiday to Rome
3. Being the Executive Producer of a Christmas song that went to Number 1 on iTunes and to number 8 in the Irish music charts
4. Climbing a couple of mountains
5. Having the amazing experience that was #twitterxmassingle
6. Meeting Ingrid Michaelson the co-writer of Winter Song and getting to hang out with her in her dressing room
7. Doing all sorts of national media about my cancer and about Winter Song

All of things have been great, but what I have enjoyed most is just being here with my husband and kids and getting to be part of so many milestones in their lives.

I have had so much support from friends and family and others. 

I have had set backs but the last two years have been very good health wise.

So tonight a word of thanks to the man above and a prayer for all those who are battling this disease every day. My hope is that we will find a cure and that someday we will all BE OK.

Ingrid Michaelson BE OK

If you want to read my Then and Now blog you can do so at www.thebigcandb.blogspot.com

9 July 2012

A significant milestone

Next Monday 9 July will mark the fifth anniversary of my successful stem cell transplant for Myeloma - a type of bone marrow cancer, which I was diagnosed with in 2007. A stem cell transplant you say? What the heck is that?

Here's the science bit: A stem cell transplant means they trick your stem cells and get them circulating outside your bone marrow and in your blood. Then they harvest them by using a very fancy machine that you have to stay wired up to for at least one and possibly three days. They take the blood out and grab the little stem cells and then give you back your blood. It's all very technical and incredibly cutting edge.

That's part one of the process. Part two involves loading you with very toxic chemo which will wipe out your bone marrow and after a few days they try to rescue you from the cancer and the effects of the chemo by giving you back your own stem cells back via a transplant using the same little line into your chest. [Did I mention that the line has to be surgically inserted before anything else happens? No, well it does!]

The stem cells are given back and they are supposed to move into the bone marrow and set up home for themselves and turn into red cells, white cells and platelets! By using your own stem cells, it cuts down on the risk of rejection and the hope then is that the stem cells replace all the good cells that the bone marrow cancer had exterminated!

So that in essence is a very unscientific description of what a stem cell transplant is. That is what I had this month back in July 2007.

Did I mention that you tend to get very pukey during it? No? Well you do! I certainly did.

But here I am just about to celebrate the fifth anniversary of my stem cell transplant and I was wondering how I should celebrate? A trip? Flowers? Something EPIC? A treat? Some jewellery? No, none of the aforementioned.

I think I will keep it simple and just enjoy doing all the things I could not do during my time in hospital in July 2007 when I was gravely ill and when for a four week period:

I could not leave the room
I could not work
I could not eat
I could not drink
I could not see my kids
I could not spend time with my husband or go for dinner
I could not stand for long periods
I could not talk for a couple of days
I could not feel fresh air on my face
I could not walk to the shop
I could not see friends
I could not see my cat
I could not sit on my own chair
I could not look at food without feeling nausea
I could not pray
I could not hope
I could not live my ordinary life
I could not see a future

So five year's later I am going to keep the celebration simple because I can do all those simple things that I maybe took for granted for so long. Next Monday 9 July, the fifth anniversary of my stem cell transplant:

I will get up and go out and about
I will go to work
I will eat breakfast, lunch, dinner and tea
I will spend as much time as I like with my gorgeous kids
I will plan a meal out with my hubby
I will stand, run, jump, cycle
I will stand outside and feel the fresh air and most likely rain on my face
I will walk to the shop
I will rub the cat and hear her soothing purrs
I will sit on any chair I want to
I will delight in looking at food as I plan dinner
I will continue to pray
I will continue to be hopeful
I will live my ordinary life to the full
and most importantly
I will imagine, no, I will plan a future for myself!

Happy Myeloma anniversary to anyone who is kicking this type of cancer's butt. Hang in there and please God in our lifetime there will be a cure.

Brenda

xxx

Guest post: Guardian Angel by Emma Tobin

This is a piece of writing from Emma Tobin aged 15 from Newbridge in Co Kildare. Emma is a member of the WriTeen Scene, a young adult writing group based in Co Kildare. This is an extraordinary piece of writing that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I am a little prejudiced as Emma is my daughter but this is extraordinary:

Guardian Angel

If you’ve ever felt truly invincible, you know how I felt in that moment. If not, then you can’t imagine how I felt as I flew beneath the storm –laden clouds that shrouded my city in a gloomy half-light.

It was like I had to be gentle with the world, like if I squeezed too hard it would crumble in my fingers. In that moment I held the world together and though it was terrifying it was also… exhilarating. I will never forget it – that long, perfect moment in which the world rested on my shoulders and I bore the weight. I will always remember, regardless of how much I want to forget.

It was the most painful moment of my life. My mind encompassed the world and everything in it. The revolving planet, the gravity holding humanity down, the lakes and rivers and seas, the molten core of the earth – all of it under my control.

Then it was gone and I was falling. Frozen, gaping, realising how small my mind was. It’s the kind of thing that takes your breath away. The air whipped past me, the metres between me and the pavement melted away as I wrestled for control.

I grasped my mind and forced my body to stop. I halted in mid-air and hung helpless, holding on by a thread. Then, slowly, I began to ascend.

That was when I noticed the oddly shaped form floating above me, waiting for me, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to face it. I wanted to run away and hide from the pain reverberating like the tolling of a giant bell through my skull. I wanted to hide from the fact that I’d have to spend my life living and reliving that moment. The moment I’ll never forget.

I didn’t run, partly because I was curious and partly because I knew that running wouldn’t help.

As I drew level with it, I saw the runes etched into its metal surface. It shimmered and floated, its undulating body caressing my battered frame, bathing me in soft yellow light.

I could feel the energy draining from my limbs and I realised that it was sucking the life out of me. It was tempting to embrace the light, because it promised warmth and safety and an escape from the terrible sense of responsibility that comes with holding the world together in a shaking grip. It was killing me, and I wanted to let it.

I knew that if I died, the world would too. Without someone to hold the world together it would fall apart. I knew that this was more than just what I wanted; this was the fate of the world.

So, with all the strength left in my limbs, I pushed it away and watched as it spun through the night, veering towards an apartment building. Then it stopped dead in mid-air.

Before I could draw in a ragged breath it slammed into me and I was the one spinning, still defying gravity but only just. I absorbed the kinetic energy from my own momentum and felt the energy buzz like a thousand wasps in my veins.

In one fluid movement I drew my curved hand and a half sword and smashed it into the hardened metal surface of the machine that was now trying to kill me in a more conventional manner – by breaking every bone in my body.

With a defending pop, the sword gouged a jagged hole and I, thrown back by the strength of my strike, watched as the machine exploded into a million shimmering shards of metal.

It rained down onto the city like confetti and I revelled in my own strength. It was then that I remembered why I held the world together.

If I didn’t, who else would?

Ends

Copyright: Emma Tobin 2012 

In the shadow of cancer

In the past two weeks I have learned about the deaths of two people I knew from Myeloma. These deaths hit me very hard because I too have Myeloma. Myeloma is a cancer of the plasma cells of the bone marrow for which there is currently no cure.

I was diagnosed in January 2007. I was 38 at the time. The majority of people who get myeloma are over the age of 65. I was one of a rare breed of people who get myeloma whilst under the age of 40 – only 2% of those who get myeloma are under 40.

At the time of my diagnosis they did not really talk to me about a definitive prognosis. With myeloma there are no guarantees. A lot depends on how I respond to treatment. There might be remission. The remission might be a few months or a few years. There will definitely be a relapse, maybe even a few relapses.

Myeloma is not curable but it is treatable. But people still die from it or from complications associated with it and I am sure that I will die from it too – one day.

The news of these recent deaths have me using my calculator, working out how many years these men lived for after their myeloma diagnosis and trying to work out how many more years I might have. I know one man who has had myeloma for 21 years and is doing fine ( well as fine as you can with something like myeloma). I know a woman in America who has been living with myeloma for more than 14 years. I know another man here in Ireland who has been living with it for 15 years. I used to be able to quote the myeloma years of these two men who have recently died, but sadly I can’t anymore.

So my calculator has been out because I am not very good at Maths, not this type of maths anyway.

My children were aged 2 and 9 when I was diagnosed. Now, five years after my diagnosis, they are now aged 7 and 15. I don’t ever want to leave them. I don’t ever want to be faced with the fact that I will no longer be around to be their mother.

So today I have been scribbling sums, based on some of the myeloma years and numbers I know: 

• Another 5 years will mean my children would be 12 and 20 which would be wonderful
• Another 10 years will mean that my children would be aged 17 and 25 and that would be just indescribable.
• Another 15 years will mean that my children would be 22 and 30.

I daren’t dream after that.

All I want is to be around to see them growing up into the wonderful young adults I know they will be.

I want to be around to help my daughter choose her dress for her debs, to help her with college choices and to nurture her wonderful writing talent.

My son is so little, he has so much more growing up to do and I really want to be around for all the milestones that he will go through over the next few years: First Communion, Confirmation, Secondary School, his first love.

So I am doing the numbers and they are not very easy numbers to do.

I have had a successful transplant and I am well. I am off all treatment. I am checked every 8 weeks and so far so good – the myeloma is at bay.  I am hopeful that someday there will be a cure. I really hope we get a cure so families can be spared the trauma of living with myeloma.

It’s very hard to live in the shadow of myeloma. It’s very hard to live under the shadow of any cancer. It’s very hard to hold onto dreams. But, where there is life, there is hope. I have hope. Sometimes it is hard to hold onto hope. Sometimes it is just very hard ……..

This week is Myeloma Awareness Week in Ireland. Please spread the word about Myeloma and if you can help in any way with our work and with raising money for research then please email mymyeloma@gmail.com

Brenda Drumm

June 21, 2012

The Sound of Music from a 73 year old Dominican Nun

Sr Ann McGovern OP, a Dominican Sister in her seventies has decided to share her singing talents on cd for the first time.

Sr Ann has been singing all her life and in her day she was a really good soprano. But it was not until she entered her 73rd year that she finally put a CD together. As a Dominican, a religious order referred to as the Order of Preachers, it is no surprise that Ann chose to undertake this project. She currently sings with Our Lady’s Choral Society. The Choral Society appears regularly at the National Concert Hall, accompanied by the National Sinfonia, the RTÉ Concert Orchestra and the National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland. The eminent Irish conductor Proinnsías Ó Duinn has been responsible for the choir’s musical development since 1979.

The Congregation Prioress, Sr Helen Mary Harmey, asked Sr Ann to record the CD so that the sisters would have her recordings as a keep-sake.  The recording project was planned and began in November 2010 when Patricia Feighery who is the music teacher in St Dominic’s School in Cabra was asked to work with Sr Ann to prepare her for the recording sessions.

Mr Ian Callanan, one of Ireland’s leading composers of liturgical music as well as a notable producer and arranger, was asked to record and produce the music with Sr Ann: “The recording took one year to complete. Sr Ann would record one song a week depending on how well her 73 year old voice would hold up. She did a great job and had a great spirit throughout the whole recording and editing process. The end result is beautiful and makes for a very easy listening CD, very peaceful and calming”, Ian explained.

The CD which is called Your Face O Lord, I Seek will be launched by Proinnsías Ó Duinn on Thursday 9th February in the Dominican Resource Centre in Cabra at 5:30pm. Your Face O Lord, I Seek contains 12 songs reflecting a variety of music and it will be available from the Dominican Sisters.

Commenting on her CD Sr Ann said: “I’m very pleased with the result and found the process to be very worthwhile, it has been an exciting journey, one that I hope will bring peace to those who listen to the CD”.

Ends

Notes to Editors: 

The full list of songs follows:How Beautiful are the Feet

• Ave Maria
• Sé do Bheatha ‘Mhuire
• Hiding Place
• Panis Angelicus
• Be Still
• The Lord Bless You and Keep You
• Sé an Thiarna m’Aoire
• Laudate
• An Old Sacred Lullaby
• The Little Road to Bethlehem
• Holy Night

A copy of the cd artwork is available on request from Ian Callanan (icallanan@mac.com) or (086) 249 0779

Two short samples can be heard by visiting http://www.iancallanan.com/music/srann/

About the Dominican Order:

The founder of the Order of Preachers was Dominic Guzman. He was born in Caleruega in Spain in 1170. He died in 1221 in Bologna, Italy.  The first monastery of nuns was founded by Saint Dominic in Prouille near Fanjeaux in the South of France.  The first Dominicans friars, came to Dublin in 1224.The history of the Cabra Dominicans Sisters  (Ireland) dates back to Galway 1644.  A group came to Channel Row, Dublin in 1717. In the 1860’s, sisters went to South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and America.  In the last century they went to Latin America.  The sisters were mainly involved in Education and because of praying the Divine Office had a strong tradition in liturgical music.

Further information:

Helen Mary Harmey OP, Congregation Prioress,  Tel: 01-4055570, E:domgen@eircom .net