Open Letter: Dear David Jones. We Need To Talk.
As A Relationship, The Spark Isn’t There Any Longer. It's Gone Out. It’s Not Us - It’s You.
Dear David Jones,
We really need to talk about your fucked-up, failing customer service.
Remember the good old days when you had someone operating the lifts? An actual, friendly, live human who would greet you with a warm smile and helpfully inform you which items you’d find on each floor? It made your shoulders relax a little as you prepared to enjoy your shopping experience, feeling safe and reassured that it was all under marvellous control.
It was fun, dammit.
These were the same good old days when you would then disembark from said lift to be greeted by some fuckwit in a bright bow tie, breaking his own face he was smiling so hard, asking if you required any help, extra special assistance with bells on, or perhaps someone to polish your shoes.
And now? You’re lucky if you can even find a cashier to process your payment.
Who ever thought that we would have arrived at a point when it took you longer to find a miserable member of staff to take your money than to pick out what you’d like to spend your hard-earned cash on?
These days, it’s actually a mission to wander around an empty, eerily disserted store, to find someone even semi serving at a till. It’s like an unrewarding treasure hunt.
When you find it, you join the line of 50 frustrated people (because it’s the only line anyone who’s bothered to rock up and attempt to shop in store can for the life of them track down) only to get to the front and be informed that you cannot purchase your item at this till, you need to go to the department in which you found your desired item.
When you tell them you came to this line as there was no staff to be found in that other department, the robot cashier simply repeats that you cannot pay here. There are no smiles.
There is no friendly demeanour.
And there are no more fucking bow ties.
In despair, chances are you give up and go home.
No, we can’t imagine for a second why people are choosing to shop online.
And neither do we have any clue as to why your business is faltering.
The depressing decline in quality of customer service is leaving a very poor taste in our mouths, DJs.
Actually, do you know what, we’re not even going to affectionately call you DJs anymore. There will be no more terms of endearment. You’re just David Jones to us now, such is our heavy disappointment. We miss the face-ache-smiles, bright bow ties and actual assistance that made us feel valued.
DJs used to have a super special, soft spot in our hearts but that’s gone now – just like your customer service.
As a relationship, the spark isn’t there any longer. It fizzled for a while and now it’s totally gone out.
It’s not us - it’s you.
If you could be bothered to raise your game, we may consider returning. We miss our old mate DJs, who was always incredibly pleased to see us. So helpful, so friendly, so accommodating.
We never felt like we’d arrived out of hours and were a terrible inconvenience just by showing up. Now, we feel we ought to walk around on tiptoes and apologetically quietly mutter, ‘sorry to inconvenience you, we would like to buy something, so sorry…’
We’d like to take this opportunity to inform you that we’re fucking sick of it.
Sort it out.