Fixing Customer Data

It boggles my mind that so many enterprises don’t have their data and technology act together. After all, for more than two decades we’ve been saying, “Where there are pipes, there’s water.” Software and content (data, info, whatever you want to call it) are inextricably linked and have been for years. But still, the basics have gone out the window.

This week on a trip, I had some extra time. I decided to head to a lovely outdoor mall to hunt down a pair of shoes and enjoy some sunshine. It was a beautiful day so off I went.

I start at Nordstrom and find the salesperson so engrossed in her iPhone that she doesn’t notice I’m there. I walk right past her, circle the department, and decide to leave. Tech foible number one.

Foible number two: I head to Neiman Marcus to see if they have the shoes I’m looking for. No luck, but a bottle of nail polish catches my eye and I decide to buy it. The world’s supply chain issues rear, and it isn’t in stock. The salesperson is kind enough to offer to charge/send it after I mention I’d just go online and order it.

She asks for my last name. I share it, and she asks for address particulars and how to spell my last name.

“Here, I have a Neiman Marcus credit card. It’ll have all the details once you look me up.” I hand it to her thinking it’ll be easier than spelling my name 45 times.

My name comes up — but with old home and office address info in the system. I tell her I am not at either address anymore. The third address she has on file is correct. I ask her to please delete the other two.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“The system won’t let me.”

Hmmm… we are working for the machines; they’re not working for us, I think to myself.

I ask her again if she could delete them, not knowing why I expect a different answer. It is a DIY world, I remind myself.

She then asks for my email address and phone number, and I remind her they are all in the system as I’ve gotten texts, email promos, and shipping follow-up from Neiman Marcus prior.

“They aren’t in here.”

“They have to be, I receive emails from you every day.”

“Nope, I can’t see them associated with your new address.”

So now I apparently have a correct email and phone number associated with old physical addresses that are incorrect. The salesclerk is unable to delete them and unable to link the other contact info with the new address.

I politely tell her I just want to buy the nail polish and don’t want to fuss with emails and mobile numbers. I don’t need alerts about nail polish being shipped.

Out pops the receipt and I thank her for her service.

Foible #3: I head to another boutique to try on a different pair of shoes as I’m still on the hunt.

“Can I try this on in a 7?” I asked

“We don’t have it in your size,” the salesclerk says.

“Do you have one in another color so I can see if it fits and then try to order?” (I had to ask; she didn’t offer.)

The 7 fits. I had to ask again. “Do they come in black?”

She looks it up on her mobile device and finds they do.

I remind myself that this is post-COVID service at work (or not working as the case may be), but I elect to persevere as I want these shoes. I’ve looked everywhere and finding a style that fits in the color and look I want takes Herculean effort. I’m in luck!

We then go through the purchase process, which is all about getting me into their system as it, too, is a charge/send. Since it’s a French company, it needs to be EU-compliant, so next thing you know, I am entering data into her phone and signing my life away: name, address, email, phone, and consent after consent after consent.

The purchase goes through and I receive three emails within minutes: a welcome, an order confirmation, and a password request form that is so obtuse, I don’t understand it. There are no links to actually set up a password, but it explains all the benefits of having an online account.

I don’t want an online account. I just want to make one purchase. But it seems I can’t — even in a store — without signing my life away. I ask myself why I must have an online account for a one-time purchase in a physical store. It is, of course, because they are storing personal data.

The clerk says it’s so I can return the shoes if they don’t fit.

I ask her why I couldn’t just ship the shoes back to her in the store, knowing it’s a dumb question and this is all about compliance. I think, God forbid I move; I’ll be experiencing another Neiman Marcus–like experience, no doubt. Scrambled data. I shudder and decide to make the purchase feeling somewhat triumphant about my find.

I return to the hotel ready for a good martini and with ever more awareness that crazy customer service is once again being driven by data, machines, regulators, and enterprise data and technology that can’t be managed and is so cumbersome it’s a mess.