Customer service of a different kind…
Yesterday, when I was on my way to a China Mobile shop in Chengdu, I saw an Agricultural Bank of China (ABC) branch that was emblazoned with the lovely green logo that identifies this countryside bank. As the taxi drove by, my head swivelled around because I have fond memories of ABC.
It was a good two-and-a-half years ago that I spent many months in Beijing preparing for my epic driving journey through China in Miss Daisy (see www.ontheroadinchina.com/nokiadiscoverchina). One of the myriad preparatory tasks was to open a bank account since it would not have been wise to carry tens and tens of thousands of Yuan in cash with me. If it had been overseas, an international credit card would have been the obvious choice, but in China that would not have gotten me very far, certainly not in the country side. The question then was: which bank? China has many banks, some small, some medium sized and a few large ones such as Bank of China and China Construction Bank. The mother of them all is Agricultural Bank of China. It had, when I checked last, 400,000 employees (that’s after having been trimmed down substantially in the past ten years) and branches nearly everywhere, even in the remotest corners of the country. ABC’s smart green logo brightens up even the dimmest of places. ABC was to be my bank.
As if to prove the point that ABC has branches everywhere, there was one right across from the serviced apartment I occupied in Beijing. Even though I had made up my mind that I would open an ABC bank account, I kept procrastinating because I don’t like banks. That’s not because of the mess they’ve created recently. (In 2007 they were busy creating the mess but I didn’t know it.) I don’t like banks because they make money from me twice: first when they pay me less interest than they charge for lending my money out to someone else – that’s ok, though, because I can see the logic in banks acting as the grease that makes the world go round and round. But then they charge me again when they ask for a fee for every tiny bit they do: transferring money, printing cheques, cheque cancellations, issuing a reference letter, you name it. In my simple mind these should be part of good customer service. Anyway, I digress.
I kept deferring my visit to the local ABC branch to open a bank account because I hadn’t opened one in China for ten years, and the last time I did it wasn’t pleasant: I had to jump through umpteen hoops and was greeted with dismaying impoliteness. Since then, going to a bank in China has always felt worse than going to the dentist.
But my departure date kept approaching rapidly, and Miss Daisy’s boot was too small to store three-and-a-half months’ worth of cash in RMB100 notes. So, one gloomy April day in 2007, I ventured into the cavernous hall of the local ABC branch. The bright green, neon-lit ABC logo notwithstanding, the place looked forbidding. And it looked antediluvian. The only modern article in sight was a ticket dispenser. I pressed it and sat down in one of the plastic chairs that were fastened to the ground and had the shape of those reminiscent of sports stadiums. There were quite a few of them around. In fact, so many that I wondered whether the bank branch designer had prepared the place for receiving all 100 million ABC customers to arrive at this one branch on a single day. Just in case, I suppose.
I bided time. There weren’t many customers. There were, in fact, more staff than customers, but most of them did not seem to concern themselves with customers. They too seemed to bide their time, as if it were an endurance race between staff and customers: perhaps, the staff seemed to say to themselves, if we endure in not dealing with customers for longer than customers endure waiting for service, well, then we win the day. The chances of me having a good experience were not good.
After a while, my number was announced. I got up and walked to the counter above which a light was blinking indicating that this counter would serve the next customer.
“Good morning,” I said to the young lady behind the counter.
When I approached her counter she seemed to become increasingly disturbed and nervous because she would be expected to speak English to me. But when I she heard me say “good morning” in Chinese she relaxed and beamed at me.
“Good morning,” she replied.
“I would like to open a bank account,” I got straight to the point.
She frowned and looked at me for a while, then asked, “Why?”
I knew this wasn’t going to be a good experience, but I hadn’t expected the situation to deteriorate so quickly. I thought for a while what to say in response to someone questioning my interest in giving her business. Then I concluded to give the lady a chance.
“Well, it’s like this. In two weeks’ time, I’m going to go on a long journey through China,” I began. “In fact, I will be on the road for three, maybe four months. It will be a driving journey,” I continued. Already her eyes began to glaze over and I realised I was about to lose her. Still, I continued.
“This journey will take me to many remote places in China. I’ve heard that ABC has, what?, 25,000 or so branches. In other words, practically everywhere, even in the remotest corners of the country.”
Suddenly she perked up and cut me short: “Will you be going to Guizhou?” she demanded to know. Guizhou is one of China’s poorest provinces in the country’s south.
“In fact, yes, I will be going there as well,” I replied.
Her eyes lit up and a smile broke out.
“How about Guiayang? You now, the provincial capital of Guizhou! Will you go there as well?” she was very eager to know.
“Yes, I will, it’s on my itinerary. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I am from Guiyang. My parents live there. When you go to Guiyang, then you must, you simply must stay with my family. When will you arrive?”
***************
And so it came to pass that I ended up sharing a drink with this young lady‘s father in a restaurant in Guiyang. Not only did I stay with her parents for two nights, they also looked after me during my entire stay in Guiyang. Her father arranged a bank car for me – he too worked for ABC – and made sure that I lacked absolutely nothing. I didn’t have to lift a finger, not even to feed myself.
The drink that the young lady is pouring down my throat is called Mao Tai, a local grain wine that’s 58% alcohol strong, jet fuel by any other name. Look carefully at my shirt and you’ll notice that I can’t even drink as fast as she pours it into me.
And all of this only because I told one of ABC‘s 400,000 employees during my account opening that I would be going to her home province. Now that‘scustomer service, albeit of a different kind.
In case you wonder, I still have my ABC bank account.
