Once upon a time (July 5, 1993) The New Yorker published a cartoon with a caption that generated one of the first real Internet memes: "On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog." That cartoon not only showed that the geek superpower of being online had gone mainstream, it also (subtly) let everyone know that users of online services could actually "be" someone different online and hide any aspect of their actual identity from all the other people going online.
Somewhere between there and here (in a temporal sense), online socialization became "social networking" and then Social Networking. The exact date is hard to pin down but all of a sudden the idea that individuals who spent time online were maladjusted, socially inept loners was replaced with the idea that one was not truly connected to one's friends or aware of one's world unless one posted every thought, preference, idea, photo, and action online in a way that made them all instantly accessible to everyone else in cyberspace.
Once upon a time, that too was optional... but no longer.
I recently encountered a problem with a major online service. (I will not mention the company's name here, but I can tell you that it begins with the next-to-last letter of the standard English alphabet, often appears with an exclamation mark at the end, and is allegedly an acronym for "Yet Another Hierarchically Officious Oracle".) The problem was minor, but... well, it was annoying, and I wanted to both communicate my annoyance and, if possible, find some way to restore something that had been lost. The search for an obvious "feedback" link did not go well, but eventually I noticed a small link at the bottom of the web page that looked like it would allow me to send a question to the company's user support organization (or at least post it to a user forum where someone might have already posted a solution to the problem).
Imagine my surprise when I finished typing my two-part comment/question and clicked the link to proceed to the next step in the process... and was required to log in. Correction: I clicked the link to proceed to the next step in the process and was required to log in even though I was already logged in and the system was addressing me by name.
My first reaction was to say something extremely impolite about the web browser I was using, quit from the application, and start over. I went to the company's site, logged in, verified that it had my profile correct, returned to the contact page, re-typed my question...
...and the stupid thing again asked me to log in all over again.
I took a deep breath, then took a closer look at the pop-up window in the middle of my screen. This was more than a simple login request; there were tabs featuring the logos of other online companies (including a couple I was not familiar with). For a moment I thought the site had been hijacked by hackers and I was on the verge of being victimized by a phishing attack -- then realized I was looking at a legitimate login request because the company wanted me to share my request for help with everyone in the world through a social network.
Huh?
I was attempting to tell the company that I was having a problem with their service, and that I was less than thrilled with a particular change they had made to the navigation features of their site. If there was a company-specific user forum, it made sense to share my notes there because that was a place for users of this service to discuss this service... but what they wanted me to do (in actuality were requiring me to do) was turn my service note into a public post on Facebook, or Google+, or any number of other social networks. (By the way, a semi-closed, dedicated user forum specific to this company allegedly does exist separate from any general-purpose social networks.)
At this point my mood changed from "annoyed" to "downright angry" and I again shut down my web browser without providing more login information. I was using Service Y; I was logged into my personal account with Service Y; I was experiencing a problem with Service Y; I was attempting to contact user support within Service Y; I was using internal contact pages belonging exclusively to Service Y... Why the blazes did they insist I share everything with services A through Z (and probably a some using Cyrillic, Hebrew, Arabic, Sanskrit, and other alphabets as well)?
Unfortunately, my curiosity waxed as my anger waned, so I repeated the process all over again (although by this time my original 2-point quick note had grown into a 5-point near-rant). When I reached the login pop-up, I chose the Google login that I use for my blog and the system very quickly recognized me.
But the system did NOT allow me to post/send/share/whatever my note.
What the system did at that point was require me to -- wait for it -- LOG IN AGAIN, this time to a THIRD service. Of course, it was an online service that I do not have an account with, so I was presented with a fairly comprehensive "Create Your New Account Profile!" page that was asking me for the same information that I had presumably already provided twice by logging into Service Y and then logging into my Google account.
Let's just say that "annoyed" fell far short of completely describing my feelings at that moment. I was now faced with the dilemma of either keeping my questions to myself or sharing them with the entire planet through a service I had never heard of. The desired option of sharing my questions with only those individuals to whom it was addressed had been forcibly removed from the set of available options in the interest of making sure I was engaging in online social intercourse. (I have to be careful with that, since I have an allergy to Penicillin.)
I closed all the browser windows except for the original window where I had begun my sojourn and then somehow (I would gladly post the information here if I could remember how!) I managed to locate an actual link to an actual problem reporting mechanism that did not require me to share every word with every Internet user in the world.
I do not believe that I am a sociopath. I have friends with whom I speak, share meals, and "just hang out" semi-regularly in person; I have long conversations about many topics with co-workers and customers at work on a daily basis; I frequently engage in friendly "fluff" conversations with strangers queued up with me while shopping or observing the passing scene in public; and I actually do have social networking accounts on several services. What has me so annoyed is that I am (apparently) deemed incapable of deciding for myself what I will share, how I will share it, or when I will share it; Service Y (and, after a quick online check, numerous other companies) require that I "be social" at times of their choosing, take it or leave it.
The inference that we are all anti-social (maybe even sociopathic?) if we do not share absolutely every thought or comment with absolutely every person with a social network account (and, not coincidentally, provide them with a wealth of saleable marketing data) is invasive, and arrogant, and frightening.
And pretty damn annoying, to boot.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Just Rewards
Ah, the corporate loyalty/rewards program. Charge eleventy-seven thousand dollars on your credit card and earn a free flight across the parking lot; have the kid behind the register punch a hole in your card every time you spend $50 on fast food and you will eventually earn a free small bag of fries; provide enough personal information to your local supermarket chain to give privacy advocates massive coronaries and you will be entitled to pay only the advertised prices at checkout instead of the unadvertised higher "non-member" prices... There are abundant other examples[1], I am sure the general idea is familiar to the majority of readers.
But what happens when a loyalty rewards program goes awry... or is simply too disorganized to predict? The following set of nested annoyances are a completely true story; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and, in an effort to avoid an annoying meeting with a large corporation's legal department, the guilty as well).
There is a nationwide bakery-cafe franchise chain here in the USofA that covers most of the nation under one of two names (possibly three, since they apparently recently concluded the purchase a competing regional chain)[2]. I am not a "regular" customer but I certainly have partaken of their wares on numerous occasions. After all, they are convenient, offer reasonably-priced tasty food that is also relatively healthy, and provide a generally clean & comfortable environment for meals that are fast but not "fast food" (the free WiFi hotspots don't hurt, either). One of my friends eats at a local franchise several times every week, and I know some people who essentially live there for a large portion of any given business day (there's that free WiFi again).
A couple that I know well have also found this chain to be convenient, and eat there often enough to have joined the company's rewards program; it is their recent (annoying) experience that I am about to share.
Not too long after joining the rewards program, my friends bought some bread and were told they now had enough points for their choice of one free bagel or one free danish; they split the danish over coffee in an unexpected "time out" in the middle of the day. Some time later, after spending $16 on lunch they qualified for two free pastries. This pattern continued for a while, with periodic small "freebies" becoming available as the rewards points added up.
The problem was that the algorithm through which those points were accrued seemed almost random; sometimes free products were earned twice in a week, other times they came weeks apart without apparent rhyme or reason. Still, there were no extra fees involved, and it was free food, so the situation remained puzzling but not the least bit annoying.
Then came the day the couple decided to use the chain's baked goods for a very large party. Rather than pay extra for the offered catering service, they simply "catered" the event themselves with foods purchased from several sources; by day's end the bill for baked goods from this particular franchise location totaled $170 (a full order of magnitude larger than any other purchase they had made).
A few days later, the couple again stopped for lunch at a nearby location, expecting to possible get a free sandwich, perhaps more, due to the recent very large purchase... but when they asked what rewards they have earned, the response was, "nothing, sorry." Surprised, they asked the young man behind the cash register to re-check their status in the system and he asked his manager to re-check their status in the system... but once again the answer was, "nothing, sorry." The manager then explained that the rewards program was based not on how much money a customer spent, but on how often a customer made any purchase. When the couple pointed out to him that they had earned no rewards for giving the company $170 in one day but could earn several free products if they only gave the company $45 over the course of a week, the manager's response was, "Sorry, I don't make the rules."
Annoyed, the couple finished their lunch and went about their business. Some days later the most convenient choice for a fast lunch on the run was a different franchise location -- and this time the receipt automatically printed out by the cash register said they had qualified for two free pastries.
With a grin and a shrug, the couple asked to claim their reward, whereupon the youngster behind the register informed them that their rewards card number did not exist. Waving their evidence to the contrary under the young man's nose, they were told -- this time by the manager -- that their rewards card was invalid, their number did not exist, they were not in the system... and they could not have any free products.
The now thoroughly annoyed couple left the store, then on a whim tried a different franchise location not very far away. They explained their plight to the manager and showed him their receipt, and he consented to check their reward status. Once again, the number came back as invalid -- but this manager apparently had paid closer attention to the "Customer Service" chapter of his training manual because he graciously told them that they had a valid receipt saying they were entitled to two free pastries so they should pick out two they liked and he would gladly package them free of charge.
The couple picked a pair of pastries[3] but before they left, the manager decided to run their number through the system one more time. "Guess what? You've qualified for one free bagel!"
[ . . . ]
Is something really a "reward" if it carries that much annoyance with it? <sigh>
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[1] As expected, there is a fairly interesting Wikipedia entry on the subject.
[2] The chain also has a presence in Canada, but the total number of locations is just a very small single-digit number.
[3] Doesn't that line show up in a nursery rhyme somewhere....?
But what happens when a loyalty rewards program goes awry... or is simply too disorganized to predict? The following set of nested annoyances are a completely true story; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and, in an effort to avoid an annoying meeting with a large corporation's legal department, the guilty as well).
There is a nationwide bakery-cafe franchise chain here in the USofA that covers most of the nation under one of two names (possibly three, since they apparently recently concluded the purchase a competing regional chain)[2]. I am not a "regular" customer but I certainly have partaken of their wares on numerous occasions. After all, they are convenient, offer reasonably-priced tasty food that is also relatively healthy, and provide a generally clean & comfortable environment for meals that are fast but not "fast food" (the free WiFi hotspots don't hurt, either). One of my friends eats at a local franchise several times every week, and I know some people who essentially live there for a large portion of any given business day (there's that free WiFi again).
A couple that I know well have also found this chain to be convenient, and eat there often enough to have joined the company's rewards program; it is their recent (annoying) experience that I am about to share.
Not too long after joining the rewards program, my friends bought some bread and were told they now had enough points for their choice of one free bagel or one free danish; they split the danish over coffee in an unexpected "time out" in the middle of the day. Some time later, after spending $16 on lunch they qualified for two free pastries. This pattern continued for a while, with periodic small "freebies" becoming available as the rewards points added up.
The problem was that the algorithm through which those points were accrued seemed almost random; sometimes free products were earned twice in a week, other times they came weeks apart without apparent rhyme or reason. Still, there were no extra fees involved, and it was free food, so the situation remained puzzling but not the least bit annoying.
Then came the day the couple decided to use the chain's baked goods for a very large party. Rather than pay extra for the offered catering service, they simply "catered" the event themselves with foods purchased from several sources; by day's end the bill for baked goods from this particular franchise location totaled $170 (a full order of magnitude larger than any other purchase they had made).
A few days later, the couple again stopped for lunch at a nearby location, expecting to possible get a free sandwich, perhaps more, due to the recent very large purchase... but when they asked what rewards they have earned, the response was, "nothing, sorry." Surprised, they asked the young man behind the cash register to re-check their status in the system and he asked his manager to re-check their status in the system... but once again the answer was, "nothing, sorry." The manager then explained that the rewards program was based not on how much money a customer spent, but on how often a customer made any purchase. When the couple pointed out to him that they had earned no rewards for giving the company $170 in one day but could earn several free products if they only gave the company $45 over the course of a week, the manager's response was, "Sorry, I don't make the rules."
Annoyed, the couple finished their lunch and went about their business. Some days later the most convenient choice for a fast lunch on the run was a different franchise location -- and this time the receipt automatically printed out by the cash register said they had qualified for two free pastries.
With a grin and a shrug, the couple asked to claim their reward, whereupon the youngster behind the register informed them that their rewards card number did not exist. Waving their evidence to the contrary under the young man's nose, they were told -- this time by the manager -- that their rewards card was invalid, their number did not exist, they were not in the system... and they could not have any free products.
The now thoroughly annoyed couple left the store, then on a whim tried a different franchise location not very far away. They explained their plight to the manager and showed him their receipt, and he consented to check their reward status. Once again, the number came back as invalid -- but this manager apparently had paid closer attention to the "Customer Service" chapter of his training manual because he graciously told them that they had a valid receipt saying they were entitled to two free pastries so they should pick out two they liked and he would gladly package them free of charge.
The couple picked a pair of pastries[3] but before they left, the manager decided to run their number through the system one more time. "Guess what? You've qualified for one free bagel!"
[ . . . ]
Is something really a "reward" if it carries that much annoyance with it? <sigh>
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[1] As expected, there is a fairly interesting Wikipedia entry on the subject.
[2] The chain also has a presence in Canada, but the total number of locations is just a very small single-digit number.
[3] Doesn't that line show up in a nursery rhyme somewhere....?
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
It's Not Just the Birds...
...that are annoyed. (I may be stretching a point, but "angry" is just "annoyed" with more emphasis.)
Imagine for a moment that you spend (too) many hours every day using your computer, and that in order to give yourself a break from work you install a small number of games. None of the MMORPGS like Blizzard Entertainment's well-known World of Warcraft, nor alternate reality "games" like Linden Lab's Second Life, nor strategic life simulations like Maxis' Sim City or first-person "shooter" games like Bungie's Halo; those require almost as much an investment of time as the "real work" the system is being used for.
I am referring instead to the type of game that only takes a few minutes for one to bring up, complete a level or three, and then close, occupying just enough time to refresh one's mind by taking it away from an assigned "real" task without actually breaking the flow of the workday. Something like a mah jongg adaptation, or a solitaire simulation, or.... or that game whose name I will not mention that requires one to slingshot a variety of simulated spherical birds with unique special powers at a set of odd constructs made of simulated wood, glass and stone that are occupied entirely by a variety of simulated green pigs that exist merely as animated heads.
(If you don't know whereof I speak, please conduct an online search for a company called Rovio; they created, and own all rights to, a plethora of variations on this particular game.)
"But why," I hear you ask, "are you annoyed with a game that you obviously have installed on your computer and play regularly, if not actually far too often for your own good?"
Your puzzlement is easy to understand: The game is deviously addictive, with an entertaining premise and even more entertaining characters and sound effects; it is controlled by an intuitive set of "gestures" on smartphones and touchpad-equipped computers (as well as being playable with a mouse on other computers); consumers can purchase and run the game on almost any flavor of any operating system on any device with or without a lower-case "i" at the beginning of its name; and the producers (named above) offer an almost ridiculous range of variations for many tastes. Better yet, the company regularly offers free updates that add new levels of play to keep one's purchase shiny-new and engrossing long after many other games have been turned into .sit or .zip files and deleted from one's device.
It is, unfortunately, this last feature that has added to this particular user's annoyance. (If the online forums and game reviews are to be believed, I am far from alone.) "You see," I reply, "the last update scrambled the eggs, turned the pigs to bacon, and blasted the birds from the sky."
I will be the first to admit that in the overall scheme of daily life, my inability to slingshot ridiculous simulated pseudo-birds at simulated walls of rock, wood and glass to kill alien-colored simulated pseudo-pigs ranks fairly low on the importance meter -- but I did pay for the product, and I did enjoy using it, and I did not do anything to damage it. The problem was created entirely by the creator(s) of the game. The last update (ironically a party-themed set of levels designed to celebrate the game's success) changed the control gestures without warning and introduced a set of system/software problems that rendered it unplayable even if users did manage to un-learn all their previous skills and memorize the new, less intuitive gestures.
I have had enough experience in the IT industry to know that one does not ensure half the planet has downloaded one's software package and then suddenly change almost all the commands (or controls) customers have learned without warning. I also know that an update is supposed to enhance, not destroy, the functionality of one's product. (I am not referring to a loss of functionality based on having to learn a completely changed set of control gestures; I am referring to a loss of functionality based on stack overflow errors, issues related to the game doing things on its own without user interaction, and the inability of several control gestures to actually do anything.)
Credit should be given where it is due, and the first wave of complaints was only a couple of days old when a "stability fix" patch was released by the manufacturer, again free for all users. For those of you not in the IT field, this is somewhat akin to what one sees on that TV show where a house is demolished, completely rebuilt from the ground up, and fully furnished in the space of one week -- but with no power tools allowed, and all the workers have to stay awake the entire week.
Happily, I can confirm that I have not seen a single Stack Overflow error since the patch was released.
Unhappily, I can confirm that the game still engages in unscheduled self-play at odd intervals, or will suddenly decide to not advance to the next level when one level is completed. Worse yet, at least one key "new and improved" control gesture still does not work at all while the entire set of control gestures remains less intuitive than the original. The bottom line is that what was once an addictive bit of fun is now just fifty-some-odd megabytes of wasted space on my laptop's hard drive. I will wait a few more days before archiving and deleting the application, but hope is fading.
Rovio, you can turn this annoyed customer back into a satisfied paying customer if you would just return the game to its former state and in the future did not change (and break) the functionality and playability of your collection of Extremely Upset Avians. Until then, I remain...
...annoyed.
Imagine for a moment that you spend (too) many hours every day using your computer, and that in order to give yourself a break from work you install a small number of games. None of the MMORPGS like Blizzard Entertainment's well-known World of Warcraft, nor alternate reality "games" like Linden Lab's Second Life, nor strategic life simulations like Maxis' Sim City or first-person "shooter" games like Bungie's Halo; those require almost as much an investment of time as the "real work" the system is being used for.
I am referring instead to the type of game that only takes a few minutes for one to bring up, complete a level or three, and then close, occupying just enough time to refresh one's mind by taking it away from an assigned "real" task without actually breaking the flow of the workday. Something like a mah jongg adaptation, or a solitaire simulation, or.... or that game whose name I will not mention that requires one to slingshot a variety of simulated spherical birds with unique special powers at a set of odd constructs made of simulated wood, glass and stone that are occupied entirely by a variety of simulated green pigs that exist merely as animated heads.
(If you don't know whereof I speak, please conduct an online search for a company called Rovio; they created, and own all rights to, a plethora of variations on this particular game.)
"But why," I hear you ask, "are you annoyed with a game that you obviously have installed on your computer and play regularly, if not actually far too often for your own good?"
Your puzzlement is easy to understand: The game is deviously addictive, with an entertaining premise and even more entertaining characters and sound effects; it is controlled by an intuitive set of "gestures" on smartphones and touchpad-equipped computers (as well as being playable with a mouse on other computers); consumers can purchase and run the game on almost any flavor of any operating system on any device with or without a lower-case "i" at the beginning of its name; and the producers (named above) offer an almost ridiculous range of variations for many tastes. Better yet, the company regularly offers free updates that add new levels of play to keep one's purchase shiny-new and engrossing long after many other games have been turned into .sit or .zip files and deleted from one's device.
It is, unfortunately, this last feature that has added to this particular user's annoyance. (If the online forums and game reviews are to be believed, I am far from alone.) "You see," I reply, "the last update scrambled the eggs, turned the pigs to bacon, and blasted the birds from the sky."
I will be the first to admit that in the overall scheme of daily life, my inability to slingshot ridiculous simulated pseudo-birds at simulated walls of rock, wood and glass to kill alien-colored simulated pseudo-pigs ranks fairly low on the importance meter -- but I did pay for the product, and I did enjoy using it, and I did not do anything to damage it. The problem was created entirely by the creator(s) of the game. The last update (ironically a party-themed set of levels designed to celebrate the game's success) changed the control gestures without warning and introduced a set of system/software problems that rendered it unplayable even if users did manage to un-learn all their previous skills and memorize the new, less intuitive gestures.
I have had enough experience in the IT industry to know that one does not ensure half the planet has downloaded one's software package and then suddenly change almost all the commands (or controls) customers have learned without warning. I also know that an update is supposed to enhance, not destroy, the functionality of one's product. (I am not referring to a loss of functionality based on having to learn a completely changed set of control gestures; I am referring to a loss of functionality based on stack overflow errors, issues related to the game doing things on its own without user interaction, and the inability of several control gestures to actually do anything.)
Credit should be given where it is due, and the first wave of complaints was only a couple of days old when a "stability fix" patch was released by the manufacturer, again free for all users. For those of you not in the IT field, this is somewhat akin to what one sees on that TV show where a house is demolished, completely rebuilt from the ground up, and fully furnished in the space of one week -- but with no power tools allowed, and all the workers have to stay awake the entire week.
Happily, I can confirm that I have not seen a single Stack Overflow error since the patch was released.
Unhappily, I can confirm that the game still engages in unscheduled self-play at odd intervals, or will suddenly decide to not advance to the next level when one level is completed. Worse yet, at least one key "new and improved" control gesture still does not work at all while the entire set of control gestures remains less intuitive than the original. The bottom line is that what was once an addictive bit of fun is now just fifty-some-odd megabytes of wasted space on my laptop's hard drive. I will wait a few more days before archiving and deleting the application, but hope is fading.
Rovio, you can turn this annoyed customer back into a satisfied paying customer if you would just return the game to its former state and in the future did not change (and break) the functionality and playability of your collection of Extremely Upset Avians. Until then, I remain...
...annoyed.
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