Recently, I spotted something of interest on the site of a firm of creative recruitment consultants. Clicking through to their 'contact us' page, I was pleased to notice a statement declaring their belief in common courtesy, backed with a promise to reply to all enquiries within 48 hours. So I filled out the form, included my details and hit 'send'. Unfortunately, I may as well have shouted a greeting into the night sky and waited for a reply from Uranus.
My communication was sent almost two weeks ago. Since then, there has been absolute silence from the recipient. Their waffle about 'common courtesy' and 48 hour guarantee has amounted to nothing more than a neatly stacked pile of male cow excreta. Well done them.
In this instance, it matters little. I only sought to check on some relatively trivial information and I've largely lost interest now. I say it matters little, but perhaps it matters a great deal. Because I now view this outfit as rude, unprofessional, mendacious and shoddy. Should sufficient numbers of site users end up feeling the same way, the company may find itself struggling. Of course, it's possible the business is so magnificently successful, it can afford to treat industry professionals with dismissive contempt, but I doubt it. In fact, I'd argue that no enterprise can afford that luxury.
However, the whole shebang does require just a teeny amount of human input - like a reply.
Perhaps it was my fault. Maybe I was stupidly naive to believe a completed contact form would be noticed, much less responded to. If so, may I politely ask WHAT IS THE FLAMING POINT OF THE THINGS?
For crying out loud, we constantly assure ourselves that the internet has revolutionised communications. A few sentences typed in Glasgow appear in Sydney a split second after the requisite click. Emails from across the globe flood into inboxes, responding to anything from a competition to win One Direction's half-eaten toast, to a request for comments on a Kardashian in a frock she's worn before. It's a miracle of the modern age! Well, quite. However, the whole shebang does require just a teeny amount of human input - like a reply.
Of course, one could go all analogue and reach for a telephone (remember them?). But how many times have you made a call to a company and had the line just ring and ring; or worse, been placed in the eighth circle of hell we have named the 'call management system'? In the unlikely event a human being picks up, the conversation often ends 'Can you put that in an email?' So much for telephones.
I'm no luddite. In fact, I'm ridiculously 'wired'. Kindle books, iPhones, MP3s, laptops - my house, and life, is full of 'em. And very happy they make me too. Nevertheless, all this hardware and all those programmes cannot guarantee anyone will ever get back to me when I fill out their accursed form. Indeed, now I think about it, I cannot recall ever pricking the attention of anyone who wasn't selling something, via the medium of the contact form.
So here is my plea to everyone who owns a website which carries a stack of HTML boxes inviting the visitor to insert their name, email address and message: please act on any missive you receive or just delete the whole shooting match. Unless of course, your whole purpose is to frustrate, annoy and give the impression you're an oaf. In which case, I hope you've missed a string of billion dollar deals.
EPILOGUE: Earlier this week, I used the same form to send that same consultancy another note - pointing out their policies were bunkum. Needless to say, they didn't get back to me.
Magnus Shaw is a copywriter, blogger and consultant
