Customer Service

I have just been stabbed in the back by a good friend. Or at least, that is how I feel. Odd, I know. You don’t normally have such emotions for a software company. But Adobe and I have been together for a long time. Back in the 90’s I had the first version of Adobe Premiere the company ever developed. I’ve grown up right along side as it.

My computer was not working well so I finally formatted the drive and reinstalled windows last week. That was trouble enough, but is again running smoothly. I have reloaded my stacks of programs including Adobe Production Suite Premium, CS2. I am back in gear and ready to go.

But no. Something went wrong. CS2 had an error when I loaded After Effects. It loaded half of it and I then had to load the other half on a second attempt. I then activated Adobe CS2. It accepted. I’ve used several programs without problem. But last night I tried After Effects. It would not let me in, saying I “have to personalize my software” giving it my serial number and name. I shrugged, put my serial number in again, and AE rejected it. I’ve tried all variations and work-arounds. I get nowhere. I have discovered that not only can I not use it, I cannot repair, modify, reinstall, or uninstall it. It is in some sort of warped alternate dimension. I deleted it manually and then cleaned my registry. It says it is still loaded and will not let me reinstall. So what now? I format my hard drive and try again? No way.

And this brings us to the title of this journal entry: Customer Service. I figured I would just call Adobe, explain the situation, and get valuable information on how to fix it.

I was wrong.

First, the girl that had the good fortune to answer my call was in India. I have never before had a problem with the concept of outsourcing. Now I do and I'll tell you why. I couldn’t understand her. I had to keep asking her to repeat. Worse still, she couldn’t understand me. She understood most of my English, but the idea of my problem escaped her. We couldn’t communicate. It took five minutes for her to gather my name, serial number, phone number, email, software type. At the end of which I had to clarify again that I had a question and was not just calling in to register.

She did not know the answer and had to ask her manager. Finally, “I’m sorry sir, but we do not support CS2. You must upgrade.”

Silence. I ask: “What do you mean you do not support CS2?”

Silence with some breathing and quiet mumbling.

I continue seeking clarification: “Are you saying ‘not support’ as in Adobe will no longer activate or allow CS2 because it is three years old, or ‘not support’ as in Adobe will just not answer my valid question because they desperately want me to buy their new product?”

With some effort I received, “Adobe will not support CS2. It is no longer active. It will not run.”

“But wait a minute,” I said. “I just told you I installed CS2. I logged it onto the internet and activated the software through Adobe. It works fine. It does run. All except AE. Which means two things: First, that Adobe does still ‘support’ CS2, and second, that I do have a valid problem and need your help.”

Several minutes of quiet jabbering followed. “My manager says you must upgrade.”

I was offended. Adobe was telling me, through this little girl, thanks for spending your $1000 on our software. Now we are forcing you to spend $1599 more on our latest version if you want us to talk to you.

“I think I should call technical support.” I said.

“This, eh, is technical support,” she replied.

And my heart sank as I suddenly realized how hopeless this all was. Oh the problem of outsourcing. She was technical support. She was the last line of help for Adobe issues. She was Indian, young, didn’t speak fluent English; and most of all: I got the distinct impression she had never even used the Adobe software I was having issues with. What a waste of time on two levels: we had failed to communicate on the level of actual language, and second, the level of technical Adobe experience. I had now been on the phone for fifteen minutes seeking enlightenment from a girl who had less experience with the software in question than I had the first day I bought my first copy.

How different this experience could have been had I called Adobe for help, been answered by a young girl in Seattle who spoke English as her first and natural language, and who had years of experience playing and working with Adobe products. How different indeed.

I said calmly, “So instead of tech support answering my technical problem with the legitimate software I already purchased from you, you are telling me to go out and buy your new $1599 software instead of helping me?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Then more jabbering that continued for five more minutes. I realized she must be conversing with her cube mates and manager. After twenty minutes on the call, with no solution, she hung up on me.

Now that is what I call customer service.