Bhopal Express was whizzing past in the darkness of the night. I was moving closer to the Tropic of Cancer, as close as I have never been.
Sitting in the air-conditioned coach, I was trying to prepare myself for an entire week’s travel through the heart of the country. It has to be hot, I thought. But how hot it was, I came to know only at around 12 noon the next day. In fact, in the morning when I arrived at the station it was rather cool, not giving me any clue as to what lay ahead.
I baked myself in the sun through the day and when it came to getting into the web world, I realized that my much harried and hurried buy of a data card before leaving had been futile. I headed for a shop of the concerned Internet service provider.
I was just too sure in my mind that I would not receive any help as the customer care in Delhi had already given up on it.
“Sorry ma’am. I don’t think we can help you from here in Bhopal because you don’t have the phone number,” a pretty looking customer care executive said with the biggest smile ever. Thank you, I muttered and was about to turn when another one of them came by. “Can you spell your name for us please. May be we can try and see if you have been registered at all.” I was just too glad to hang on to some hope for a few more minutes. It was nearing closing time and their was still a huge rush in the shop. They downed the shutter after a while and asked me to stay inside. Soon the entire team of about 10 executives was at work, trying to trace the SIM I had bought, which had of course not been registered after 24 hours of transaction.
“Do you have any detail of the shop you bought it from? May be you can call and ask them the status,” said one of them. I scrounged in my bag for the cashmemo. There was no number on it. Even as I was taken aback, the executives there did not make me feel at any point of time that it was none of their business unless I provided them with some detail. “You are our customer. I am sorry we can’t readily solve your problem because the shop you bought it from is not showing on our centralized system. We’ll try and see what we can do,” said Alok Jaiswal, one of the executives there.
{{/usCountry}}“Do you have any detail of the shop you bought it from? May be you can call and ask them the status,” said one of them. I scrounged in my bag for the cashmemo. There was no number on it. Even as I was taken aback, the executives there did not make me feel at any point of time that it was none of their business unless I provided them with some detail. “You are our customer. I am sorry we can’t readily solve your problem because the shop you bought it from is not showing on our centralized system. We’ll try and see what we can do,” said Alok Jaiswal, one of the executives there.
{{/usCountry}}I won’t be lying that I was feeling extremely uncomfortable at their ‘kindness’ for I am not used to seeing customer care executives actually caring for customers so often. I waited with baited breath, expecting some miracle to happen. It did not happen, but for once in my life, I did not come back cursing the customer care.
Amid the exchange of information, I had once asked Jaiswal where he belonged. “I come from a vilage, ma’am. I haven’t seen much of the world yet.”
Well, he may not have seen much of the world yet but he definitely could teach a thing or two to us about professionalism and customer care. He gave up only after finding out that my card had not been activated because the proofs had not been submitted for a reason only the shop owner knew.