Read an Excerpt
Ask!
The Revolutionary New Guide For Getting Total Customer Satisfaction
By Barbara Rollin St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2001 Barbara Rollin
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-7985-6
CHAPTER 1
If You Don't Ask, the Answer Is Always No
But I did ask. In September of 1993, I bought five-year certificates of deposit at an interest rate of 5 percent. By December 1994, the rate had climbed to 6 percent. I felt foolish that I'd locked up my money for so long, and I felt trapped by the hefty penalties for early withdrawal. Then I had an idea. Would it hurt to call the banks and ask them to raise my rate? It was probably a waste of time, but I had nothing to lose.
There were five institutions in all. First I called the one where I had the most money. I spoke with a supervisor and simply asked, "Can you help me? The rates have gone up since I purchased my CDs. Could you raise my rate?"
The woman said she'd have to consult her supervisor. After a few minutes she came back on the line. "We'd be glad to do that," she said.
Just like that. They raised my rate from 5.61 percent to 6.35 percent because I asked. I didn't have to tell them a hard luck story, or plead, or threaten, or beg. I just asked. Astonishing. Up until now, I'd imagined banks to be impenetrable monoliths, as I did other large institutions.
Two months later, in February 1995, the rates went up another percent. I asked again. Again they said "yes." This time they raised my rate from 6.35 percent to 7.08 percent.
I had similar results with three of the five institutions I asked. The last two said no, "no" as in, "are you out of your mind?" But that was the response I'd expected. It was lucky that I got a "yes" from the first institution or I might not have persevered.
These few phone calls resulted in a net gain of $10,000 over five years. But I gained more than money. I got psychological relief from my feelings of being foolish and trapped. I felt good instead of bad. This was a pure example of an Ask. It wasn't a complaint or a grievance. It was simply a request for help in bettering my situation.
The lesson I learned was — if you don't ask, the answer is always no. There's nothing too outrageous to ask for. You're entitled to ask for anything. You're not always going to get a positive answer. But you are entitled to ask.
Ask! is about asking the unaskable to get what you need and deserve. It's about conditioning ourselves to question everything — to question tradition, habit, and custom. Not to make assumptions or take anything as a given. Not to automatically take no for an answer.
That's how I convinced a bank to reverse itself and approve a mortgage, received replacement costs of $720 on a comforter ruined by a dry cleaner, persuaded a lawyer to refund half her fee, returned prescription drugs, had charges waived — from credit card annual fees to airline change fees. It's how I collected more than $800 in bonuses in one year from long-distance phone companies, got reimbursed for wasted time by retailers, obtained all sorts of things for free — from discontinued merchandise to referral fees — that are available to everyone. But you have to Ask.
We, as individual consumers, feel helpless in the face of the powerful companies we inevitably deal with daily. We've been socialized to believe we have no power. It's difficult to step back and ask questions, to stop ourselves from responding in habitual ways. It takes energy. Asking goes counter to everything we've been taught. We've internalized such parental injunctions as "don't question authority," "be polite," "go with the flow," "don't make waves," and sadly, "half a loaf is better than none." These internalized messages, according to psychologists, create a sense of "learned helplessness," one of the main causes of depression. The fact is we have power and don't realize it. Ask! is about using the power we already have.
None of us is immune to the hassles of everyday life. And since we don't produce any part of the vast assortment of goods we consume, there's no avoiding these hassles. We must constantly interact with the commercial world. With banks, landlords, airlines, hotels, car dealers, repair shops, rentals, lawyers. We have to contend with defective items, dry cleaners, long-distance phone services, shrinking garments, discontinued styles, disappointing restaurant dinners, delivery and repair people who don't show up on time, undisclosed surcharges, unadvertised discounts, unhonored warranties — and new challenges that are continually being imposed on us by the marketplace such as "risk management departments," "restocking fees," "presales," corporate mergers, large rebate offers, huge grocery stores housing franchised vendors like banks, photo developers, dry cleaners, specialty foods.
These hassles occupy more space in our brains than the important things. They negatively affect our quality of life by gobbling up energy that could be used for more fulfilling activities. Since there's no escaping these hassles, I've come up with techniques to handle them that are effective, empowering, easy to implement, and even fun. Sometimes, in fact, you can turn an aggravation into an opportunity. Like what happened when I was the not-so-proud owner of too many low-interest CDs.
This is not a book about complaining, but rather about Asking. Complaining takes a psychological toll. When you complain, you cringe at the sound of your own voice with its petulant whine of entitlement. Inherent in complaining is the anticipation of getting screwed, which becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You block the help that might otherwise be available.
In contrast to complaining — and I can whine with the best — Asking avoids creating adversarial situations. I've gotten my best results by staying human and treating other people like humans also, not holding them responsible for a bum product (the stalled traffic, or, you fill-in-the-blanks). By staying human, you have the chance to make a real human contact that can effectively humanize a large corporation. Dealing with individuals within a corporation is far different from dealing with corporate behavior. Almost certainly, an injustice coming from a business is not the fault of the person at the other end of the line. The individual may be as oppressed by the corporation as you are.
Asking feels better than complaining. It's more humane and psychologically healthier. And even if you don't get what you've asked for, you won't become agitated, shamed, or infuriated because you've remained calm and polite. Your day won't be ruined. You won't get into a black mood and need to vent on those you are in personal relationships with. It's amazing how it works, but if you don't lose your dignity with others, you'll be able to respect yourself.
This approach hasn't come naturally to me. I'm from New York — City, that is. When I moved to Maryland in 1966, it took three years for my face to thaw. At first, when the checkout clerk in the supermarket asked how I was, it took me a minute to recover. (Back then, New York lived up to its hard-boiled reputation. No one in a supermarket was concerned with how you were. Supermarkets were dangerous places where you could sustain permanent injuries from recklessly driven shopping carts.)
Because of my New York background, when I go to make a call, I have to lecture myself to remain calm. I have to remind myself that the minute my voice rises, I can count on an interaction going awry. I've had to train myself to stay polite, to treat the person at the other end of the line like a human being (despite all evidence to the contrary).
My successes and those of my family and friends have enabled me to turn up the volume on Asking. Each success emboldens me further. These victories, large and small, give us a sense that there is some justice in the world.
Sometimes things fall in my lap — I often receive more than I'd hoped for. There are no longer occasions when I kick myself for not asking. And I'm not afraid of the word "aggressive." It's a term used to manipulate us into settling for less.
This book has no legal advice. It addresses the normal irritations of everyday life for which most of us would never think to seek legal redress: the gap between pursuing litigation and throwing a defective item into the garbage. It can range from asking the seemingly impossible — and getting more than you ever imagined — to simply asking to be treated fairly. You have nothing to lose. And we all have different priorities. What's deplorable negligence to one person is unimportant to another.
Ask! is both a practical approach for handling everyday aggravations and a bold assault on the system. Some of my stories will shock you. She has some nerve, you'll think. How could she? Where does she get off? You'll question if this is the correct way to act. I've had to wrestle with these issues, too. Is this a legitimate way to behave? I've asked myself. Is it, in fact, nice?
What I've realized is, we confuse behavior appropriate for commercial situations with behavior appropriate in personal relationships. Businesses know this. They're counting on it. So although they do not apply the standards of interpersonal relationships to us, they're confident we're thoroughly conditioned to applying these standards to them. They know we like to think of ourselves as "nice" people.
The fact that we sense something's askew in this relationship is reflected in the cynicism of the oft-expressed rhetorical question, What can you expect from business? We're cynical about business practices, yet we feel uncomfortable applying their standards to them.
So if you're outraged or embarrassed by things you read in this book, ask yourself if you're judging my actions by the standards of "polite society." This is not a book about interacting with friends, family, or even an individual within a corporation. Consider that nothing in this book is either illegal or immoral or even unkind.
In the last century, the structure of commerce has gone from the neighborhood store, whose owner had a face, to huge, faceless, multifaceted conglomerates. This means that most of our everyday activities involve asymmetrical relationships where the company has the power to manipulate. They have business consultants to advise them on what products will appeal and how to market them. They have expert psychological data predicting our minutest moves, like whether we'll turn left or right when we enter a department store. They know how to make us believe that an item of clothing we loved last year is now distasteful, "out of fashion," dated. I pride myself on having a fashion-free wardrobe; yet there I am, looking at last-year's sweater, and thinking how shapeless it is, how this year's tops look "better." How could I have worn that? The shoulder pads are too big. I look like a football player. And the color!
As Consumer Reports points out in its September 2000 edition, "No part of the shopping experience happens by accident." Did you know that items featured in "sale" flyers — which CR says are glanced at by 80 percent of shoppers — are often not on sale at all, or discounted only by pennies? No? Me neither. "Grocery manufacturers," Consumer Reports notes, "pay handsomely to get their products mentioned in flyers and newspaper ads: A mention, even if it's not accompanied by a discount, can boost sales." Deceptive? Possibly. But definitely intentionally misleading.
Since dealing with large corporations is a relatively recent phenomenon, it's not surprising we haven't sorted out an appropriate code of behavior to interface with business. In fact, we haven't even been aware of the need for such a code.
We're confused. That's because we've succumbed to our conditioning. Our confusion stems from the fact that the traits essential to being a successful consumer are behaviors you don't want to practice in interpersonal relationships, where they'd be inappropriate or even destructive. Like persistence. Persistence is an important tool in dealing with business, yet try using it on your spouse and you may need persistence in finding your next mate. And bypassing — bypassing an underling to talk with a supervisor. (Your husband's mother?) In Ask!, I've come up with ways to remain human, polite, yet address our rights.
Ask! is different from anything you've ever read. It's a survival guide for successfully navigating the system. I share my strategies for achieving terrific results, often immediately, that will help you gain more control of your life. And there're enough ideas to earn you back the price of the book many times over.
Asking is a way for every individual to feel empowered. You don't need advanced degrees or fat purses. It's a practical approach that can be used by anyone. There are no age, sex, educational, or financial restrictions. The most important thing is to have a good attitude and an understanding that you do have power. My best tool is my attitude — that everything is open to question and negotiation. Everything.
The stories that follow are examples of situations where Asking is possible; examples, because they'll help you reframe your approach to everyday aggravations in your own life. Irritations will begin to seem like opportunities. You don't have to make any major changes in your personality to implement the techniques of Ask! but using these techniques will help you psychologically.
As for life's larger troubles, in the final section I look at how to use the principles of Ask! to obtain the best possible medical care.
How did this book get written? My new husband, a cognitive scientist who studies the way we think, overheard my phone conversations with airlines, repair people, department stores, banks, and the like. The results amazed him.
"You know," he said, "you handle things very differently. You should write about it. It would help people."
"Naaaaah," I said — I was busy writing short stories.
A few days later, after listening to another conversation that ended with yet another spectacular outcome, he repeated his suggestion and added, "Why don't you take just fifteen minutes a day and write up some of your consumer victories? Your style is unique."
"Okay, okay," I said, "fifteen minutes I can do."
In a month, I had five thousand words. In two months, it grew to ten thousand. Then the book wrote itself. New incidents kept popping up, remembrances of things past, stories people told me when they heard about what I was writing. I added research and interviews and Ask! was born.
During the past few years, I've had an eventful life. I moved four times: twice in the Washington, D.C., area, twice in San Diego. I became a grandmother of twins, I met Mr. Right, got married, we bought a house. Along with marrying Mr. Right, I married his nonagenarian parents, helped my husband movethem twice, once to an assisted-living facility and then to a nursing home. And I helped with my new father-in-law's final illness and death. In the midst of it all, we took a three-week trip to France.
Lots of activity, lots of complicated transactions, lots of opportunities for asking.
CHAPTER 2
Asking — The Hows and Whys
In the Beginning
I started out small, never imagining I'd become a Master Asker. Thirty years ago I bit down on a cherry pit in a Sara Lee turnover and wrote to the president of the company. I received a letter of apology, a gift box filled with Sara Lee goodies, and coupons for more goodies. I persuaded B. Altman's, a fancy, New York department store, to send reimbursement for a defective man's suit. The suit was charcoal gray with red and blue threads running through it. After a year of wear, the red threads had snapped and unraveled. Because I didn't have a receipt, I received only the last sale price, but that was a major victory. In those days it was rare to succeed in returning anything. If you convinced a store to take something back, you earned a tickertape parade down Wall Street.
Sometimes I hit walls. Discount stores like Loehmann's were implacable in their refusal to accommodate me. Airlines weren't much better. I was easily intimidated and dissuaded. I could take the first step — I was always good at that — but going further was often too much of a leap.
Back then I wrote letters. Calls were expensive — you could get an ulcer waiting on hold; it was worse than being in a taxi during a traffic jam. Long-distance calls were reserved for Sunday morning catch-ups with your parents. So when I felt like I'd gotten a raw deal, I laboriously cranked out messy, amateurish letters on a manual typewriter, carbon papers, erasable bond paper.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Ask! by Barbara Rollin. Copyright © 2001 Barbara Rollin. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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