In two days, I will have been living in Munich for a full year. During this time, I’ve come to know many German customs, many of which are similar to Texan customs. For instance, Texas microbrews often taste very similar to the big dogs of Bavaria (especially the dark ones). Additionally, if you’re a Texan, write down a list of reasons why sunny, warm weather is awesome. I guarantee one of those items is a variation of “go outside with a bunch of friends and inhale all of the meat, bread, potatoes and beer I can.” Indeed, a German day at the Biergarten is a Texan Barbeque with less sauce. Munich is the liberal city in an otherwise totally conservative Bavaria. Sound familiar, Austinites? There’s even a Bavarian secessionist microculture. Did you know that? Between the tacos and the sausage, the country music and the salsa music, the Dos Equis and the Shiner Bock, I could swear that Texas is what you get when Germany and Mexico have a baby.
But, there is one aspect of German culture that differs almost entirely from U.S. (and especially Texan) culture. That aspect is customer service.
In Texas, working with customer service is hardly a breeze–it is the outermost extremity of the corporate body, lacking anything that even resembles autonomy, after all. However, you could often describe the experience as helpful or at the very least informative. Imagine an American insurance firm asks for your name. You answer. What is nearly always the next noise to leave the service rep’s mouth? If you said “Can you please spell that for me?” then you and I are on exactly the same page. Welcome to the blog.
Now, imagine things go awry. Some information tied to your account has been revealed to be incorrect. Or, maybe you missed a deadline because you misunderstood their rules. After you bring it up to the service rep, you’ll hear two things. The first is an apology. They probably don’t even owe you one, but they’re going to express some sort of sympathy for the way you feel. They might not even mean it, but they’ll say it. The second thing you’ll hear is typing. They, like their German counterparts, have a customer information database literally at their fingertips, and they are using it (unlike their German counterparts) to guide their end of the conversation. By the end of the call, you will certainly know 1) if anything is wrong 2) why and 3) if you need to do anything to fix it.
I’m about to tell you three personal stories about my interactions with customer service in Germany. If you find your mind trying to escape your head while you read, take a break, call Apple and tell them that you broke your iPad. It doesn’t matter if you don’t own one.
Before I begin, I should mention that I spoke German in each of these encounters. A German friend of mine asked me if I had, when I told her about them. She had originally supposed that I had tried to speak English, and that the representative was too embarrassed to admit they couldn’t understand me, or that they were turned off by my assumption that non-German was okay. So, now we’ve cleared that up.
Story One: “All Set!” (Techniker Krankenkasse Health Insurance)
Techniker Krankenkasse is a popular public health insurance firm. They’re an extremely good pick if you make under (I think) 55,000 Euros per year, if you’re a student, or if your employer covers more than half of your insurance bill. For instance, they only charge students $80 per month. That is an extremely good rate. I went with them last year, when I applied to the other Master’s program.
When the Master’s program didn’t accept me, I became ineligible for coverage with them, so I had to resign. I sent in my cancellation letter and waited a few days for a response. Nothing. I went to their office to speak to them about it personally, and thus began this customer service experience.
“Hi!” I said to the receptionist. “I would like to speak to someone about my insurance contract, please.”
“Naturally,” she replied with a smile. “What is your birth date?”
I told her.
“Thank you. Have a seat, and I will call you when someone is available.”
I sat for maybe 5 minutes. If one good thing can be said about TK’s people, it’s that they’re available.
“Welcome, my name is [someone]. Come to my desk and I’ll help you.” He spoke in short sentences at a very calming pace. A young guy with a smile, he was the picture of customer service.
I followed him to his desk.
“Please have a seat,” he beckoned. “What can I do for you?” The computer next to him had fallen asleep before I arrived.
“Thank you. I recently sent in a cancellation letter. I haven’t heard back from you guys, so I wanted to come in and ask about the status of my account.”
“Ah, okay, no problem. We just need to make a copy of your Visa and your alternative insurance card.” The computer next to him was still asleep.
“No problem.” I gave him both. He went away for five minutes.
When he returned, he handed me my things. “Thank you! We now have your information on file.”
I waited for him to finish. Then, I realized he already had. He was looking at me.
“Oh, um, so I’m done? Do I need to do anything else to make this official?”
The computer was in REM by this point. “Nope! Everything’s clear and your cancellation is final. You don’t need to do anything else.”
“Perfect!” I smiled. That was easy. I left.
Two weeks later, my phone is ringing and the number doesn’t have a name attached to it. I never like these calls. When I answer, it’s a lady from TK. She’s speaking German, which is incredibly hard to understand over the phone when you’re learning it.
“I’m so sorry,” I interrupt. “I’m learning German, but I’m not yet so good at it, and it’s hard to hear over the phone. Is it okay if we speak English?”
“Ah, I’m very sorry,” she replies. “I’m not so good in English. Is there any way German will work for you?”
I relent, since I can always say I don’t understand and put the ball back in her court.
“Ah, super!” she exclaims. “I’m calling about your cancellation notice. It seems there’s one detail that wasn’t communicated to you. We require that customers give their cancellation notices two months in advance. We will therefore need to continue billing you for the plan for two more months.”
Considering I wasn’t eligible for insurance through them in the first place, I’m surprised I had to cancel at all. But, I try to understand. “Really?” I reply. “Okay.”
“Super! So, you understand that we will need to bill you for two more months?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, great! Have a good day.”
I wonder if I could have refused her. Wonderboy told me two weeks before that everything was cancelled and that I was all done. He appeared to be psychic, since his computer never made a noise while I was with him. I assumed I should just trust him.
Thanks, Wonderboy.
Story Two: “We Have Nothing For You.” (Hugendubel Book Store)
Two days ago, I went to the German equivalent of Barnes ‘n Noble to pick up my new German coursebook. My teacher had said that she reserved a copy of the book for each of us, so that nobody would be bookless on day one. That is an extremely thoughtful teacher. Here’s how my conversations with Info Man and Checkout Lady played out.
I begin with Info Man. If he exists, I always begin with him. I approach his counter and wait for him to acknowledge me.
He does, but a coworker of his is next to him, yelling things into the side of his head. His look says “How can I help you?” but his situation is telling me either to come back later or knock his coworker out with a rubber hammer.
I wait for his coworker to pause her tirade. She doesn’t. Info Man is still looking at me expectantly while she keeps going. I feel awkward. Time to speak over her, I guess.
“Hi,” I shout. “My teacher reserved a book for me. Can you please tell me how I can get it?”
“Ah, you must go to the cashier. She can help you there.”
“Thank you.” I walk away, leaving the shrill sound of Coworker behind me.
At the counter, I tell Cashier Lady what I told Info Man.
“I can help you. Under which name is the book?” She asks.
“Laib.” I reply.
She types the name into her computer. A puzzled look drips down her face. “We don’t have it.”
My instinct is telling me to trust her. However, she never asked me to spell the name I mentioned. That gives me doubts. Maybe she heard the name, assumed it’s German and typed “Leib.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Laib” with an “a.”
“Ah, okay.” She retypes. Again, she’s puzzled. “No, we don’t have it.”
“L-A-I-B” I spell out the name for her, punching the “B” as hard as I could. Maybe she heard a “D” the first time.
“Hmmm.” She types one last time. “Ah, yes. We do have it. Let me get it for you.”
I can only assume that she heard “Leid,” not “Laib,” and missed two of the four letters in that name. However, she asked me precisely 0 times how to spell it, or to clarify the name by speaking more clearly. The idea that a mistake occurred never crossed her mind.
It’s taking me awhile to get used to that tendency.
Story Three: “I Promise, You Ordered These.” (Schwabing Cafe)
Last night was my weekly tandem meetup with my partner Katharina. A tandem partner is a person with whom you meet weekly in order to teach one another each’s native language. For the past year, Katharina and I have obviously been exchanging German and English.
Anyway, last night we drank beers at the Schwabing Cafe down the street from my apartment. We talked for a little over an hour before deciding to part ways. Thus began this story’s customer service encounter.
Seeing empty glasses, our waitress reappeared to ask a question. Neither of us heard it, because we were talking at the time. We assumed she asked us if we were done.
In any case, we both responded with “We’d like to pay, please.”
“Ok, sounds good,” the waitress replied. “It was a Weissbier and an Alcohol Free Weissbier, right?”
“Right,” I answered.
We waited and talked a little more, until we began to feel like the wait for our check was becoming abnormally long. Maybe she just got distracted.
The she returned with a full Weissbier and a full Alcohol Free Weissbier. What?
“Oh, no!” Katharina exclaimed. “We were wanting to pay.”
The waitress was visibly upset. “Are you serious? I asked you if you wanted two more, and you said you would.”
“No,” Katharina replied. “We said we wanted to pay.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with these drinks?” the waitress used her eyes, presumably to blame us into submission.
“You’ll have to take them back,” Katharina advised. “We can’t drink them.”
The waitress sighed heavily, and huffed back into the restaurant. A minute later, she appeared with the check.
As we paid, Katharina said “Sorry. Next time we’ll speak more clearly.” I’m pretty sure that was Waitress’s line.
“Yeah.” Waitress spoke flatly and with a frown. She took our money and left without another word.