I recently ordered groceries online, a mundane transaction in our modern world, one I’ve probably completed hundreds of times. Barely 10 minutes after the delivery, my phone buzzed. An email: "How was your experience?" My immediate thought wasn't gratitude or helpful feedback; it was an exasperated groan. Again?
This isn't an isolated incident; it's a daily occurrence.
Every online purchase, every customer service interaction, every service appointment seems to be followed by an immediate, insistent inquisition. "Please rate your experience." "How did we do?" "Tell us about your recent visit."
My inbox, once a place for essential communication, has become a digital confessional, demanding that I, the customer, account for every micro-interaction I have with the commercial world. And I'm here to say, emphatically: enough already. (This is also why I refuse to give my cellphone number to businesses. I have no interest in companies texting me. That's reserved for friends and family ONLY.)
I understand, theoretically, why companies do this. In an age dominated by online reviews and ratings, reputation is everything. A single disgruntled customer with a keyboard can wreak havoc on a brand's carefully curated image. So, are these incessant followups a proactive maneuver, a desperate pre-emptive strike to ward off a potential one-star review before a disgruntled customer even starts typing? Or is it a more cynical PR play, a blatant request for testimonials meant purely for their own advertising and marketing purposes? Is it genuine concern for service improvement or simply an obsession with data metrics and an insatiable hunger for glowing five-star endorsements?
I suspect it’s a little bit of all three, leaning heavily towards the latter. And regardless of the underlying motive, the outcome for me, the consumer, is the same: an unnecessary, burdensome intrusion.
For me, and I suspect for many others, my silence is my review.
Let me be unequivocally clear: if my experience with your company was bad, you can bet your bottom dollar you’ll hear from me. I'll pick up the phone, compose a detailed email, or yes, even take to the internet to vent my frustrations and share my negative experience. I won’t hesitate. My time is valuable and if you’ve wasted it or provided a sub-par product or service, I feel a responsibility, both to myself and to potential future customers, to voice that dissatisfaction. Waiting for an automated email to prompt me simply isn't necessary; the impetus to complain, when warranted, comes from within.
But if you don't hear from me, it means one simple, undeniable thing: it was fine. It was acceptable. It met my expectations. The groceries arrived, the customer service agent solved my problem, the product functioned as advertised. There was no outstanding issue, no egregious error, no reason for me to dedicate more of my precious time to thinking about a transaction that was, by all accounts, perfectly adequate.
I work for a company that sells coffee and tea products (you should know that by now). Our brother company has done thousands of transactions and shipped tens of thousands of products. Never -- and feel free to forward me an email if I'm wrong -- ever, have we had a timed email or text (neither company texts, actually) go out after your order arrived. Ever. (Did I mention that already?)
It's not that we don't care how you feel, it's that we're confident in our products and the experience deliver. In fact, I don't know many companies that have such casual and playful social media interactions with customers like we do. Does the average customer message Walmart's IG and say, "Hey, the order arrived today. I love it! You guys are the best!"? Probably not. Do we get those every single day? Yup. Every - single - day. (Unsolicited, too.) We love followup messages from you about your purchases but we don't desperately go hunting for compliments.
Back to those needy companies.
The constant bombardment isn't just annoying; it’s a drain. It demands unpaid labor from me, the customer. My time and attention are valuable. Why should I dedicate them to meticulously rating every single facet of a routine transaction, especially when the outcome was perfectly acceptable? It’s not just one email; it’s a cascade. An email after the order, another after delivery, sometimes even a text message or a pop-up on their app. It’s mental clutter, a digital chore list that never ends, adding an invisible layer of administrative burden to every single purchase I make.
Companies claim to value feedback, yet they seem to miss the most fundamental form of it: the absence of a complaint. They’re so focused on collecting explicit data points – those quantifiable 1-to-5 ratings and detailed comments – that they appear to ignore the implicit message of satisfaction that comes with silence. In their pursuit of perfect metrics, they’ve overlooked the simple truth that sometimes, "no news" truly is "good news." My lack of an angry phone call, my absence from Yelp with a scathing review, my decision not to forward a complaint email to their CEO – that is my quiet five-star rating. That is my endorsement of a job well done, or at least, adequately done.
So, I implore companies to reconsider this pervasive strategy. Trust your customers. If we had a problem, we’d let you know. If we don’t, assume you did your job adequately. Focus your resources on delivering excellent service in the first place, on ensuring that my initial interaction is smooth and trouble-free, rather than scrambling to measure it after the fact. Invest in your actual service, your products, and your staff, not in endless post-purchase surveys.
It's getting to the point where I'm considering ditching companies that won't leave me alone. (How many times have you messaged a company and you're added to their spam list before they even answer your question? No thanks, not doing business with you now. Don't even bother replying.)
Give us, your customers, a break. Let our silence be your peace of mind. Let our quiet contentment be your ultimate endorsement. Let the fact that you didn't hear a complaint from me mean, simply and powerfully, that it was fine. And please, just leave me alone.