Hilariously Bad Customer Service from Comcast

Tonight, I've called 1-800-COMCAST with two goals: to downgrade our cable package and to sign on for their new, very fast Internet service.

This is actually my second call. Last night, I called Comcast with the same goals. After sitting on hold for twenty minutes, I gave up.

I may give up tonight, too. Here's why: if I set out to design the worst possible on-the-phone customer experience, I don't think I could surpass what Comcast dishes out.

First: while waiting for a rep these past fifteen minutes, I've been subjected to the same blobby, tinny loop of bad harmonica jazz music at least thirty times. From what I can tell, the loop never changes, and it's only about fifteen seconds long. It's remarkably bad. It's remarkably loud. It's on-hold music conceived and performed by the Devil himself.

Second: if someone's calling to disconnect or downgrade, is it the best idea in the world to bombard them with messages about value bundles and additional services? The caller is already unhappy; that's probably not the best time to push for a sale.

Third: if you're going to subject me to ad after ad, you could at least not interrupt your own ads ... with more ads. In the middle of an ad about voicemail, for example, the same pre-recorded female voice (only much louder) breaks in to tell me how important my call is. (Note to Comcast: if my call really is important to you ... staff accordingly.) During ads about the Comcast Xfinity Triple Play bundle, the same pre-recorded female voice breaks in to tell me I'd better know my social security number before speaking with a rep. Just now, while I've been writing this blog post, I've heard an ad be interrupted by another ad, which was, in turn, interrupted by yet another ad. It's madness.

What mood, exactly, is all this -- another twenty-minute wait, blobby music, and a barrage of ads interrupted by other ads -- supposed to put me in? Has anyone from Comcast ever called this number, to experience the wait and the noise first-hand? 

There should be a law: when customer service call center waits go beyond five minutes, little speakers in the ceiling of senior management's officers begin to play the same on-hold loop that callers are subjected to. 

Do that, and I'll wager that answering my "important call" would suddenly be considered a lot more important.

Update: Last night's wait was also twenty minutes, but customer service did resolve the first part of my issue. A helpful MadeByMark.com reader suggested using Twitter as a way to get service from now on. (Thanks, Brian!)

Meanwhile: none of this would be a problem if Comcast would allow customers to manage their own account online. It's odd to me that their ads brag that customers can do that very thing ... but the truth is, while their online account management tool allows customers to add new services or upgrade existing ones, it doesn't allow you to downgrade or drop services. I know why they do this ... but it would be a gesture of faith in customers to give us full account management functionality (especially when you're trumpeting account management as a feature of your service!).

Don't Get Picked. Pick Yourself.

“If your plan requires getting picked and you’re not getting picked, you need a new plan. I’m betting it will turn out far better in the end, but yes, indeed, I understand that it’s harder than being anointed. Your talent deserves the shift in strategy that will let you do your best work.

The problem isn’t that it’s impossible to pick yourself. The problem is that it’s frightening to pick yourself. It’s far easier to put your future into someone else’s hands than it is to slog your way forward, owning the results as you go.”

— Seth Godin

via Seth's Blog.

The Hunt for Perfect Headphones is Over

While visiting Clyde's dad, we came across a piece of furniture that the family's owned for decades: a huge analog home stereo. It looks a bit like a varnished coffin on stubby wooden legs. On the left and right of the unit, the huge speakers are concealed by decorative wooden grillwork and a screen of gold-threaded fabric. 

We switched it on. After a loud pop, much crackling, and a brief hiss, the turntable came up to speed. The spindle clicked. The needle arm raised itself, swiveled to one side, and plopped down on the rim of a 33-rpm vinyl album from Disneyland Records. 

I wouldn't call this particular recording of "The Bare Necessities" a classic. That said: there was no denying the magical properties of that old stereo's sound: the rich bass, the warm treble, the rounded notes. After decades of hearing nothing but digitized music, the organic, unprocessed sound flowing from those fabric-encased speakers sounded like the product of a new (and superior) technology.

$56.99

I listen to a lot of music on Bluetooth headphones. As much as I love my HBS-700s, I'm aware they strip a lot of highs and don't faithfully reproduce deep bass notes. Some of the lost sound is due to digital processing: the files I listen to (and that most of us listen to) have been compressed to reduce file size. But some of that reduction in quality also has to do with the headphones themselves ... and for two years, I've been looking for an alternative that would let me hear more of my music while keeping me mobile. 

Because I spend a lot of time in Apple Stores -- and because you can't walk through an Apple Store without tripping over a pair -- I started out assuming I'd like the "Beats by Dre" headphone series. I've tried out virtually every configuration of the things multiple times with many different kids of music. To my ear, they have a boxy, unpleasant sound: a blobby bass response with tinny, watery treble. In the end, I've found that Beats are more something to wear than something to listen to -- a fashion statement, maybe, but not worth much as a pair of headphones.

$209.99

But finally, after months and months of comparison shopping, I came across the Bowers and Wilkins P3 over-the-ear headphones. Despite being lightweight and collapsible, they're sturdy. They're padded just enough in all the right places, making them comfortable enough to wear for hours.

And -- that sound. I'm not sure how they do it, but these Bowers and Wilkins P3's transform brittle, angular, saw-toothed digital music into soft, rounded, organic tones, evoking the analog sound of yesteryear. Wearing these, I've heard nuances and subtle details I've never heard in dozens of tracks. (In fact, early on, I even checked to see if, by accident, I was listening to a studio remix of "Some Nights," because the track sounded so totally different from what I'd heard before.)

I know, I know. Audiophile friends swear by their Sennheisers, and the road warriors all clamor for Bose Quiet Comforts. But for folks like me -- casual listeners with broad, eclectic tastes who want to maximize the sound experience without sacrificing comfort or mobility, the Bowers and Wilkins P3's are just perfect. (And, based on the glowing reviews on Amazon.com, there are a *lot* of people like me out there.)

If you're looking for some headphones that will travel well, feel comfortable over the long haul, and deliver rich, warm, and realistic sound, you owe it to yourself to give the Bowers and Wilkins P3's a try.

Tarot Decks You Don't Need

Inspired by trends in Tarot deck publishing from the past few years, I give you Uncle Mark's Bad Tarot Deck Idea Generator (TM):

1) Write down an adjective

2) Write down a music genre

3) Write down the name of any creature, race, or species from folklore, movies, or literature. 

4) Plug those words into this formula:

Tarot of the [Adjective] [Music Genre] [Creature/Race/Species] 

And soon, you, too, can be publishing lovely decks like these:

• Tarot of the Angry Country Unicorns
• Tarot of the Psychic New Age Centaurs
• Tarot of the Blue Punk Rock Fairies
• Tarot of the Christian Hip-Hop TimeLords
• Tarot of the Serious Classical Klingons

I can see the box sets (with synthetic organza bag!) now.

Publishers (and Writers) Should Be More Like Dandelions

Author Neil Gaiman, speaking to a (chilly, hostile) audience of publishers at the London Book Fair:

"Mammals spend an awful lot of energy on infants ... they spend nine months of our lives gestating, and then they get two decades of attention from us, because we're putting all of our attention into this one thing ... Dandelions on the other hand will have thousands of seeds and they let them go where they like. They don't really care. They will let go to 1,000 seeds, and 100 of them will sprout.

"... The whole point of a digital frontier right now is that it's a frontier, and all the old rules are falling apart ... [You] just have to become a dandelion, be willing for things to fail, throw things out there, try things, and see what sticks."

via Boing Boing.

Three Tiny Photo Albums from Patagonia

I've put three little photo albums online, each of which features just a few photos from our trip to Patagonia.

Urban Scenes features photos taken in cities, primarily Santiago and Buenos Aires.

Landscapes features pictures we took when out in the wilderness, mostly around Torres del Pines, Terra del Fuego, and Cape Horn.

Mark and Clyde features, well, photos of me and Clyde, in various places.

Enjoy!

Prefer a Good Compass to Any Map

Planning is a good thing ... until it becomes an obsessive-compulsive behavior.

I recently sat in on a planning session designed to map (in exacting, excruciating detail) what an organization was going to do and define (in exacting, excruciating detail) how it was going to do it.  Eleven highly-paid adults came up with bullet points summarizing plans and achievements. A scribe typed these into a spreadsheet. That spreadsheet was rolled up into similar spreadsheets from several different departments.

Eventually, someone waaaay up the chain will be in possession of a spreadsheet containing everyone's plans and achievements, and We Will Have a Plan.

There's just one problem: this isn't 1965. The pace of change is faster than we know or can recognize, and long-term planning -- beyond lofty goals, held loosely -- is an exercise in self-delusion.

Now, it's true: this kind of planning makes us feel busy. It seduces us with its level of detail. It generates lots of data. It honors a long tradition of obsessive, detailed mapping of the imaginary landscape of the future.

Given the pace of change, though, we'd do better to simply say:

1) Here's where we'd like to go, and why.

2) Here's how we're going to get there.

3) Here, based on measurements we've agreed to, is how close we are to getting there.

4) And, over time, here's how we'll either:

     a) correct our course to come closer to the goal, or

     b) embrace a change in the goal and start over.

As Joi Ito, who runs the MIT Media Lab puts it: "You want to have good compasses -- not maps." 

Have a goal. Monitor your progress. Alter your course as the landscape demands.

Penguin Day

They wander the beach and the hills beyond: thousands and thousands of penguins, in town to mate and molt.

It's like an episode of _The Walking Dead_ -- but with penguins instead of zombies. They shuffle. They lurch. They stare. They sneeze. They make forlorn noises, like donkeys tooting those annoying New Year's Eve whistles that unroll like long tongues when you toot them.

We snagged a ride with a local, who sped us there at eighty miles an hour, driving on the left as often as on the right, getting us there ninety minutes before the bus loads of tourists from our ship arrived. We had the beach to ourselves: just us and penguins as far as the eye could see.