Getting Service from Customer Service

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Crawling through the customer-service maze
By Aviya Kushner • Bankrate.com

Forget wanting what the neighbors have. What I usually want is whatever my mother managed to get for free.

Recently my mother got great freebies from her new credit card. She was gloating, basking in post-bargain joy. I read the offer letter for her card, which I'll call Greatdeal, and was overwhelmed by jealousy.

"Sure," the representative said when I called and asked if Greatdeal could be mine. "It's on our product list. It's a great card."

I also mentioned the card in a story I'd written for Bankrate. Weeks later, though, alert Bankrate readers claimed they couldn't apply for the card.

I checked the Web site: Greatdeal was not there.

I called my mother.

"I'm looking at Greatdeal," she said. "It's in my wallet."

"How long ago did you get it?"

"It's a new card. A few weeks, maybe."

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I called the Bank of Greatdeal, and was told that Greatdeal was available, though it was curious that it was not on the Web site. I hung up and called again.

A new representative said Greatdeal was not available, and therefore not on the Web site. She transferred me to a number that would let me apply for the Replacement to Greatdeal.

The next rep said Greatdeal "does exist." No problem. Could I apply? She transferred me back, where I was told that no, Greatdeal was not available. Try Notgreat Card, they said.

Notgreat, as it turned out, wasn't as great as Greatdeal. I wanted Greatdeal.

"I can't figure out why you can't have Greatdeal," one representative said. "You should be able to."

The representative tried to interest me in Notgreat.

I hung up and tried again. Of eight representatives, five said Greatdeal existed, and three said it did not.

Two of the three who said "no" also said they had "no idea" why Greatdeal could not be mine. The third said, "They discontinue cards all the time."

My eighth representative did a hard sell on Notgreat.

"It has road assistance, too," said Travis, a warm-hearted guy in Miami. I know, though, that not all road service is created equal. I wanted to know if they'd come out and change my tire for free, or if they'd just transfer my call to the nearest mechanic's shop.

Travis understood that. He spent 15 minutes tracking down the phone number of the auto club affiliate of Notgreat and suggested I call.

Triumphantly, I called the number Travis gave me. The recording said: "Meet exciting people nationwide. Meet exciting, fun singles in your area!"

While that sounded nice, I wanted a credit card.

I called back. Travis was gone.

The next rep -- my 10th -- gave me the same chat-line number. When I explained, he gave me the number of a different auto club that Bank of Greatdeal works with.

"What's your name?" said a representative. "And your mailing address?" After giving my mother's name and mailing address, I was told her balance. Without asking.

Scary, I thought.

And I kept getting transferred. After two hours and 19 representatives, including four auto-club representatives, I still didn't know if I could have Greatdeal, or something just like it. And I still didn't know what road service Notgreat included.

I was hot and hungry. I decided to change course and try public relations, the hidden secret of journalists everywhere.

There was more hemming and hawing. Voice mails, secretaries, the works.

And then the truth finally came out: Greatdeal was a "conversion product." In plain English, that means it was there to lure other customers away. In this case, customers of a Particular Auto Club, which is now defunct, were the only ones eligible for Greatdeal. As for all those goodies my mother had, they were just for her.

It didn't say that anywhere on the offer letter. And out of 19 representatives, not one knew the true identity of Greatdeal.