Now I'm a believer

For the longest while, I didn’t quite get all the hype surrounding Asos. Sure, it sells a broad range of apparel, and yes, its website has top-notch navigation and functionality. But being the jaded soul I am, I expect no less from an ecommerce site. Praising an etailer for offering multiple search and sort options, to my mind, is like rewarding a child with extra sweets simply because he did his homework. He’s supposed to do his homework, just like ecommerce sites are supposed to make shopping simple.

But now I’m an Asos fan. And it’s because of the problems I had in completing my order on its site.

Two days ago I tried to buy two items from Asos, but the site insisted that my credit-card details were wrong. I retried several times, then tried with my debit card. No go. So I filled out the online form and emailed it to the Asos customer care desk. Within the hour I received an automated response “just to let you know we are still looking into your query”.

Apparently my query was a tricky one, because I heard nothing else until the next day. “Thanks for your email and we’re sorry to hear you've been having problems placing your order,” read the second message. “We have passed on your details to our Technical Team and they are working round the clock to get this resolved as a matter of urgency. They aim to get this fixed within the next 24 hours, and as soon as they have any further information, we will send you an email to advise. Please accept our sincere apologies for any inconvenience this may cause.” I liked the tone of the message: apologetic, helpful, friendly. I decided to give Asos one more day before shopping elsewhere for the items I’d been trying to buy.

And lo and behold! This morning I received another email: “Hi there”. Right away I knew the problem was resolved; Asos wouldn’t greet me with a jaunty “Hi there” if it were about to tell me bad news.

“Great news!” the email continued. “Our Technical Teams efforts have now paid off and we’re pleased to let you know that the problems you have recently experienced, when trying to place your order, have now been fixed. We know that you are probably eager to get shopping again, but before you do please can you delete the stored card information and then re-enter and save, ensuring you select the correct card type – you are ready to go! As a thank you for your patience we’d like to offer you a 20% discount off your next shopping spree with us…” As much as I loved the cheery but not too familiar phrasing of the message, I loved the discount even more.

Full of the warm-and-fuzzies, I went back to www.asos.com and bought not only the two items I’d originally tried to purchase, but a few small additional products as well. In doing so, I found even more to love: the care instructions included on the product pages, that I’d receive my order within two days at the standard P&P, that I could request a specific delivery date for just a few pounds more.

Okay, I concede: Asos just might live up to its hype.--SC

The hardest working catalogue in the business

The Argos catalogue is such a part of everyday life that one can easily take it for granted, like indoor plumbing or EastEnders. But there’s a reason that the catalogue has become an institution: It is very, very good at what it does—sell product.

The autumn/winter 2009 edition is 1,814 pages, yet in its way it’s a model of efficiency. So I’ll try to be equally efficient in spelling out its strengths:

1) The layouts are dense but not overwhelming. Open any spread and you’ll see that there’s nary a wasted millimetre. Despite the product density of the pages, though, they’re not dizzying. What the design lacks in cutting-edge aesthetics it makes up for in tidiness. Although a basic grid is the dominant layout theme, the designers vary the sizes of the product shots enough that and toss in just enough in situ photos to stave off monotony.

2) The footers work damn hard. Every footer includes not just the page number and product subcategory but also other pertinent information. Sometimes the info is relevant on to the particular page. On a spread of irons, for instance, one of the footers includes a key to the steam-rating and soleplate-rating icons; a page selling duvets features a cross-reference to bedding, complete with page numbers. Other times the information is more generic: reminders of Argos’s delayed-payment and product-reserve options, blurbs for the website. But the real estate isn't wasted.

3) The product copy gives you the vital information. There’s no space for Argos to wax lyrical about its merchandise. But it does make sure that the product blurbs include all the pertinent details: sizes, materials, what is and isn’t included, whether assembly is required. I’m continually amazed at how many catalogues neglect to include the basics like product dimensions in their descriptions. The copy for big-ticket items even manages to highlight product benefits. Here’s the description of the £346.89 De’Longhi Bean to Cup coffeemaker: “Adjustable amounts of coffee and water to make your individual cup of coffee. Adjustable strength from extra mild to extra strong...” Booker Prize-winning prose? No. Copy that gives shoppers a reason to fork over big bucks for a coffeemaker? Yes. (Although as a coffee hater I must admit to remaining mystified as to why anyone would pay several hundred quid for a machine that makes the stuff.)

4) The sidebars deliver even more important info. Did you know the difference between V brakes and disc brakes on a bicycle? I didn’t, until I read the Argos Guide to Bikes on page 903. Similar sidebars explaining product features and options abound, for everything from digital photo frames to electric radiators.

5) It allows you to reserve a product and then collect it in-store. The Check & Reserve It service works via web, phone, and text messaging. Convenient or what?

6) It doesn’t make you hunt around for the prices—or the price cuts. The price comes before the product description, in a larger, coloured font, which helps you to immediately winnow out the options that exceed your budget. The copy and graphics also call out products that are lower-priced than they were in the previous catalogue, products that are the lowest price of that type, and products that are discounted. And the hierarchy of information is consistent throughout, making it a cinch to compare similar products.

There's one more thing I especially love about the Argos catalogue: the Hello Kitty jewellery on page 69. C'mon, how can you hate on any catalogue that includes Hello Kitty?--SC

Underpromise and overdeliver

Last week I bought some aftershave for my other half from CheapSmells.com. Though I was a little put off by the name, the website was a joy to use: I could order the item I wanted quickly and easily, and the delivery terms stated that I could expect my order within two to three days. I placed the order late on Wednesday night, expecting it to arrive Monday or Tuesday. My parcel arrived on Wednesday, almost a week after I had placed the order. Whilst it wasn’t an urgent purchase this time, if it were a birthday gift I would have had some explaining to do. Maybe CheapSmells would be better off changing its delivery promise to three to four days. That way, it would outperform expectations if the item is delivered within two days’ time, making for a happier customer.

Making me a happy customer is exactly what apparel retailer 3Sums did this week. I placed an order for a pair of trainers during my lunch break yesterday and took advantage of 3Sums’ standard free delivery. My order confirmation stated that I should expect to receive my shoes with two to five working days. So imagine my surprise when the postman delivered the parcel today, less than 24 hours after I clicked buy now. Now that’s how to underpromise and overdeliver!—MT

Making ample use of an opportunity

Last week I wrote about how Jigsaw managed to turn the problem of a sluggish website into an opportunity to communicate with its customers and promote its summer sale. This weekend Ample Bosom dealt with problems on its site in a similar way.

In an email, Sally Robinson (whom I assume is the owner of the cataloguer) starts off by thanking me for being a valued customer (if you’ve met me, you’re well aware that I don’t fall into the company’s target market, but I did request a catalogue once) before cutting to the chase: “Unfortunately, as some of you have already noticed, we have been having website problems; our online search is currently out of order--but we are working on it and all the problems should be resolved soon. You can still browse and order online by using our brands page. Simply click on the brand logos and view all the items that we sell. Please click HERE to see our brands page. If you can’t find what you are looking for then please contact us...” She provides not just her email address but also a phone number, a fax number, and a postal address.

Clearly Sally understands the importance of offering customers multiple channels of communication, not just the channels that work best for the company. If my bosom were indeed ample, I’d make a point of ordering from her company, on the basis of this friendly, conscientious, concerned email alone.--SC

A nice save from Jigsaw

Apparently fashion retailer Jigsaw failed to anticipate how much traffic its summer sale would drive to its website. As a result, many visitors to the site on the first day of the sale faced slow-loading pages or simply couldn’t gain access. The next day, Jigsaw sent an email apologising for the problem and explaining that “we have been working hard overnight to improve the site speed, so we hope that you can now make the most of our sale reductions (up to 35% off)…” Embedded in the copy was a link to take recipients straight to the sale pages. The fact that it was a text message, rather than HTML, made the message seem more sincere and not at all like a sales pitch—great for building customer-brand empathy. At the same time, the email acted as a reminder to those who may not have tried to log on that the Jigsaw sale was still on. Talk about turning lemons into lemonade... --SC

Communication breakdown

Earlier this month I wrote about how Waterstone's managed to turn a customer service failing into a customer service win. Fashion cataloguer Gudrun Sjoden recently managed to do the same--except the failing shouldn't have happened in the first place.

On Saturday I tried to place an order on the Gudrun Sjoden website. When I came to the end of the checkout process, instead of receiving a message saying "thank you" or "your order has been processed", I was shown a screen of the home page. Uncertain whether my order had indeed gone through, I went to my email inbox; no confirmation message awaited. And when I returned to the Gudrun Sjoden site, my shopping basket still had my two items in it. So I went through the checkout process again, and again ended up with no confirmation, just a screen shot of the home page. This time, though, my basket was shown to be empty, so I emailed the company asking if my order went through.

Sunday morning my credit-card company rang to ask if I'd placed two back-to-back orders with Gudrun Sjoden. Well, at least I had confirmation that my order had gone through--but the confirmation wasn't from Gudrun Sjoden, and the confirmation showed that I was being billed twice. Later that day Gudrun Sjoden responded to my email, letting me know that yes, my order had been processed and I'd be receiving it within 10 days. I wrote back, asking about the double billing.

Late Monday morning I received another response from Gudrun Sjoden, reassuring me that I was being billed just the once. The wording was very professional, and I was satisfied. Sort of.

The thing is, in this day and age there's really no excuse for an ecommerce site not to end the checkout process with a confirmation screen. Likewise, there's really no excuse for an ecommerce site not to send an automatic email confirming the order and letting the customer know when to expect the goods. Nor is there really any excuse for a company not to immediately respond to an email query, even if it's just with a message along the lines of "Thank you for your email. Our customer service department is now closed, but as soon as it reopens we will respond to your query."

By failing to communicate with me properly, Gudrun Sjoden risked losing me as a customer, as well as risked my shouting throughout cyberspace about my dissatisfaction. What's more, it had to spend resources, in terms of customer-service manhours, in having two agents respond to me manually.

So many articles (including a number of those in Catalogue e-business) discuss advanced email tactics and ecommerce strategies. It's worth remembering, though, that such sophisticated enhancements are all for naught if you don't even get the basics right.--SC

Turning a frown upside down

My experience with Waterstone's is proof that by providing excellent service, a company can turn a problem into an opportunity.

The problem: On 22nd May I'd ordered two books from Waterstones.com: The Little Stranger and The Taste of Sorrow. The former was despatched within a few days; the latter, according to a follow-up email from Waterstone's, was out of stock but due in shortly.

I received The Little Stranger, completed The Little Stranger (a good read, not on a par with author Sarah Waters's earlier books like Fingersmith, but still worth buying in hardcover), and filed The Little Stranger in my bookcase. Still no Taste of Sorrow, nor any word from Waterstone's as to when, or if, I could expect it.

So, having received an Amazon gift card for my birthday (thanks, Rhonda and Charles!), I checked Amazon.co.uk to see if it had Taste of Sorrow in stock. It did, available for immediate despatch.

By now I was pretty disgruntled with Waterstone's. Not so much because Amazon had access to the book while Waterstone's didn't, but because Waterstone's hadn't gotten in touch with me regarding the status of my order since 22nd May--nearly four weeks ago. I was determined to cancel my order with Waterstone's, but being the shy, retiring type, I didn't want to have to talk with a customer service rep. But because of the bookseller's lack of email communication to date, I didn't trust that any email I sent to cancel my order would be received.

I was also skeptical when I went to the Contact Us page of Waterstones.com and read "Try our online assistant for immediate answers to your questions". But I clicked the link, scrolled down the brief menu of FAQs, and saw a query about cancelling orders. Ends up all I had to do was log in to the My Account page, click a form, and boom! order cancelled.

Granted, Waterstone's did end up losing this sale. But--and here's where the opportunity comes in--it hasn't lost future sales from me: Because the cancellation process was so easy, I'll have no qualms about ordering from the site again. Just as important, my anger with the company has been replaced with all sorts of warmth and fuzziness.

PS: I ordered Taste of Sorrow from Amazon; I should receive it next week. After all this, the book had better be good.--SC

When delivery isn't delivery

"Express Delivery" declares the pseudo dot whack on the front cover of the summer catalogue from promotional products mailer 4imprint. Below that red headline is the declaration "1, 2 & 5 day service at no extra cost".

Wow, I thought, free next-day delivery. Impressive!

And it would be impressive, if that's what 4imprint meant by "express delivery". But on page 32 there are all sorts of conditions, no least this: "Express service production time does not include days in transit. We will guarantee to despatch your promotional products within 1, 2 or 5 days." In other words, it's not the delivery that's express, but the turnaround time from receipt of order--which to be fair includes personalisation--till despatch of order.

I can't decide if I feel misled or stupid. But either sentiment does not leave me inclined to order from 4imprint.--SC

No mess here

"Online retailers are in a mess": That's the headline of a blog post that someone (okay, my boss) brought to my attention.

The blogger, Graham Jones, finds it "hard to see why people will flock online when they are deserting the bricks and mortar stores in their droves". Sure, some will migrate from the high street to the web in search of bargains, he concedes. But then he cites a recent study that says customer satisfaction with online shopping has declined and another report that consumers want more online payment options available to them.

His point about the need to offer site visitors an easy, enjoyable experience and myriad payment options is sound, of course. But his overall contention that, aside from price, there's no reason to shop online isn't.

Yes, the ability to easily source bargains online is a key reason shoppers buy online rather than in a store. But there's also the fact that because of the relatively low cost of entry for setting up a web store, speciality merchants abound. You want to teach yourself Estonian? Chances are you won't find a book or tapes at your local Waterstone's, but you will at HeartofEurope.co.uk. Searching for a Marimekko Unikko cushion? M&S won't have it, but DesignShopUK.com and Sheerhome.co.uk and FinnesseLifestyle.com do.

There are two other reasons to shop online that Jones overlooks. (And given that he bills himself as an "internet psychologist", I'd expect him to be alert to these motivations.) One is the sheer convenience. Maybe some websites aren't that easy to navigate and order from. But for those who only find the time to shop at 9:30 in the evening when the kids are finally in bed or at 2 in the morning because of shift work, the convenience of ecommerce is unbeatable.

Then there's what I call the misanthropic factor. Some of us simply don't want to smile and nod at a salesperson or chat to an order taker if we don't have to. And thanks to the web, we don't have to. (Surely I'm not the only one who feels this way, right? Right?)--SC

No soup nuts for you

For the second year in a row, I ordered my Passover food from J.A. Hyman Titanics (motto: "The store where you shop, we schlep"). All was well and good, until I checked my packages and realised that the five boxes of mandlen, or soup nuts, were missing. Imagine tucking into an Easter dinner absent the ham, and you'll have an idea of how woebegone I was.

After scrabbling through the cartons, I found the packing slip and saw that "unavailable" had been written across the listing for the mandlen. Okay, things happen, soup nuts go astray, I can live with that (sniffle). But why hadn't J.A. Hyman contacted me earlier to let me know that the mandlen were missing and to suggest some substitutes? J.A. Hyman could have salvaged an additional few quid (the five boxes of mandlen cost nearly £11), and I'd have ordered something--another box of matzos at the very least--to accompany my matzo-ball soup. Sigh.--SC

The Apple of the my eye

The motherboard of my HP laptop having deserted the ship after less than two years, I decided to spend the extra money and return to my first computer love, a Mac. I order a MacBook from the Apple Store in what was one of the simplest shopping transactions for a complex item I've ever experienced. Every configuration option was spelled out, with links for more information that led me right back to the page I'd been on (something that's much rarer than one might think). Shortly after submitting my order I received an email confirmation complete with the date when I can expect to receive my new machine (within 10 days). Several hours later I received another email, a "welcome to the Apple family" sort of thing, with links to instructional videos and the like. All in all, I'm left with that warm-and-fuzzy feeling of loyalty that's priceless for any retailer.

Incidentally, since the premature demise of my HP (did I mentioned that the thing crapped out on me after less than two years?), I've had to resort to using an ancient, battered laptop we've had stashed away. How old is this computer? Let me put it this way: It's a Compaq from the days when Compaq wasn't owned by HP. The "b" key sticks somewhat, and the plastic button for the "1" key is gone, but it loads faster than my husband's two-year-old HP, and I was able to copyedit galleys for an entire 142-page book on it using Acrobat Pro. So take that, HP.--SC