TurboTax Support: a Taxing Experience

Dear TurboTax Customer Support:


The TurboTax help agent I chatted with via instant messaging tonight, "18_Bonnie C", was very understanding, responsive, courteous, and helpful, and was able to resolve my issue.

The problem?

A. Your password reset system is apparently broken.

The evening started with me not remembering my user ID from last year, so I selected the "send me my user ID" option or some option with similar wording. That worked well. I was sent the user ID within a minute, then attempted to log in using what I thought was the password.

I tried several variations on the password, but none worked, so I clicked the "reset my password" option. It presented me with a challenge question, which I correctly answered, and then I waited for the email it said it would send me.

After waiting over an hour, I finally got on instant chat and got "18_Bonnie C" to fix the issue, even though she couldn't explain why the automated password resets weren't working. This leads me to my second point of what's wrong with your system:

B. The wait time for help is excessive. 

I probably spent nearly a half hour waiting for someone to help me. Understaffing a customer service organization may seem like a good way of saving money, but in the long run it will make longtime customers like me flee for greener pastures. In such a situation, you would lose my business not just for this year, but for countless more years to come. Is it really worth chintzing on customer service if tens of thousands of customers feel the same way, and leave you en masse?

"18_Bonnie C" was very nice, but I am reluctant about continuing with Turbotax for this season's returns considering these two factors. I could just as easily switch to H&R Block's online tax product.

I am posting this letter on my consumer blog for other people to read, and I hope many of them carefully consider whether they want to try, or stick with, a company that has such a dicey password reset system--They might wonder, "What else might be broken on Turbotax?"--a legitimate question, I'd say.

You can write the final chapter of this story. I will share your response with my readers, too, and if you don't respond, I will make note of that, as well. 

Why should I stick with TurboTax?

Vege-Bargain

Back in my day, a four-pack of classic Worthington vegeburgers (sold in limited venues during the 70s as "Sizzle Burgers" and "Fri-Pats") was never more than $2 a box--probably around $1.50 in the 1980s, and you typically had to go to the Adventist Book Center or wait for campmeeting to find them.

As the 80s and 90s wore on, there were advances in regard to satisfying sudden vegeburger cravings at home: First, the arrival of cheap microwaves (how did we heat them before?) and second, the marketing of Worthington's nearly perfect fake-burger patty as "Grillers" under the "Morningstar Farms" label. This went along with much wider availability, including the freezer of our local grocer (the regional chain Hy-Vee). Fast-forward to our vege-enlightened day and age, and you can walk into any Walmart or Target and pick up a pack.

Of course, the normal course of inflation has done its thing, so a box of these artificially flavored wonders of the post-space age can now easily run four dollars and change. Still . . . a buck a puck isn't bad when you consider what even the cheapest commercially sourced sandwich goes for these days. Walmart typically has them a bit cheaper, but Target may now become my favorite source for vege-meats with what I'm calling their VFVW (Vege-Food Value of the Week!) deal:

Check the freezer case at your local Target ASAP--Not sure if it's true throughout the country, but our KC-area Target currently has every Morningstar product in the regular size for $3.29 right now. Now that's a good solid value, but it gets even better . . .

Right beside the normal Griller Original four-packs (and don't get me started on the "Grillers Prime" variation--blechhh!) is a brand-new Grillers Original EIGHT-Pack, also for $3.29! That's 41 cents a patty. It looks like a classic "loss leader" to me, so if you like these highly processed little soy-based discs as much as I do once in a while, stock up now!

(Yes, I like black-bean burgers, and garden burgers, and lentil burgers at home and in restaurants, and am glad to see options like these becoming almost universal in mainstream eateries. It's also true that there's nothing quite like home-made vegeburgers if you have a good recipe and the time to make them. But once or twice a week I like a regular Grillers Original on a toasted soft bagel with mayo, hot mustard, ketchup, and chopped onions and jalapenos!)

What kind of vegeburgers do you like, and how do you prepare them? Leave your comments below.

Showers of Coupons

I don't write the eValue-ator to get free (or discounted) stuff, but it never hurts when a company attempts to placate me with freebies (or discounts) as they try to figure out if my complaints are those of a one-off crackpot or the first ripples of a market-share-shrinking tsunami of customer resentment. After all, I did fork over cash for a product whose packaging asserts the presence of certain positive attributes. And the comments I am submitting  represent data that should have some value to them, as such information could at least theoretically help the manufacturer make their product better live up to the attributes their packaging claims. So, since I've never gotten an immediate response of "We'll immediately stop the production line and address the issue you raised", I will accept coupons as one step up from no response, though a step below an outright refund.

In the case of the Tia Rosa Tortillas problem, parent company Bimbo Bakeries (I'm not making that name up) left a nice message on my answering machine and sent two $1 coupons for any Tia Rosa product--within about three days of leaving a comment on their site. And since this was only a packaging-related issue, I will probably apply them to more of their tortillas and double-wrap before switching back to another brand with functional packaging (probably Azteca). The important thing is that they thank me for taking time to contact them, value my comments, welcome my suggestions, and strive to produce quality products that meet my expectations.

Dakota Style insisted in a follow-up email that there is no way their meaty-tasting sunflower seeds have actual meat in them. Though this little South Dakota company sells their own brand of beef jerky, they claim it is not made in the same facility. They sent four dollar-off coupons, which will allow me to cover four bags of their previously excellent sunflower seeds and hope that they've finally cleared up whatever problem they had with what they call accidental "over roasting."

Informing companies that we have a problem, so they can get better and thrive . . . It's a heavy responsibility, but one that the eValue-ator will never slack on.

"Tia Rosa" or "Teary Rose"?

Dear Bimbo Bakeries USA:

The quality of your "Tia Rosa" flour tortillas is wonderful, but the "ziplock" part of the packaging is awful. When opening the package for the first time, the first step of tearing off the outer perforated section of the bag is easy. However, when you attempt to separate the "ziplock" edge within, to access the tortillas, the sealed strip is so tightly interlocked that it is virtually impossible to get it apart without ripping the actual plastic bag edges on either side of the strip. The amount of force required to separate it is high, and the junction of ziplock strip-to-regular-bag-area bond is weak. We always end up ripping the package and having to find a larger plastic bag that we can put YOUR bag in, so the tortillas don't dry out.

We are not doing this operation in haste! We are being very careful and trying to really grip that inner ziplock strip, and we STILL rip the plastic bag while failing to loosen the interlock seal. Please pull some samples off your production line and challenge the packaging director, the product manager, and the president of the company to produce a single tortilla without ripping the bag--or they won't get their next paycheck.

As the bag tears, I can almost see the tears of Auntie Rose, who lent her name and profile to you in good faith, trusting that you would keep her customers happy!

I am putting this letter on my consumer blog for others to read, and I will post your response, as well.

Sincerely,

The eValue-ator

Non-vegetarian Sunflower Seeds?

Dear Dakota Style:

I have been a fan of your "Jumbo sunflower seeds" for several years, but the package I purchased today has a weird flavor issue: They taste like meat. About one-third of the seeds taste normal, but the remaining ones have a distinct note of beef jerky, when what I'm looking for is natural sunflower seed flavor.

As a big fan of SD, and a former farm kid from neighboring ND, I am rooting for you and your company, and have told many people about your sunflower seeds. But if I can't get this meaty flavor issue resolved, I'm going to have to stop buying them and switch to Fisher or some other national brand. 

The bag I just bought today (16 oz. size) has the code "OCT 03 12B" on the back. I'm now wondering if I should take back the other bag I bought, which has the same code.

Now I don't want to make a big deal about this and get huffy and demand my money back. That would not be acting in true Dakota style. I just wanted to let you know there might be a problem in your quality control on these seeds. You obviously can't test every bag that goes out, but it might be a good idea to do some spot checking, which would at least let you detect bags with a high percentage of these meaty-tasting insides. Very strange. I would be happy to mail some of these back to you for analysis.

By the way, I am posting this letter on my consumer blog, "The eValue-ator." I will also post your response so my family, friends, and blog readers can see how you handle situations like this.

With best wishes,

the eValue-ator

Defy the Wiper Blade/Industrial Complex!

The factory wiper arms/blades on my '09 GM vehicle do have a very convenient connection system (just press a square button and slide to remove--not sure what it's called) and a very aero/low profile. While some third-party blade makers are starting to include adapters for this wiper arm type, such adapters slide or clip on to the back of their "default" molded-in wiper connector, thus adding to the overall height of the wipers and making the arms stick out further from the windshield--not exactly conducive to preserving the factory aero look.

The blades themselves are a nicely designed affair that consists mainly of an extruded plastic channel made to flex "inward" past the curvature of a typical windshield, thus conforming to the windshield when pressure is applied by the wiper arm. In addition to the plastic channel, there are a couple of thin metal strips that sit inside the outer edges of the channel, and those strips form a narrow gap that the actual rubber wiper material slides into (using the "T"-shaped cross section furthest away from the wiping edge--There is another "T" cross closer to the wiping edge that is allowed to bend freely in the open air). There's also a couple of plastic end caps that hold it all together in conjunction with some snap-in metal pieces.

The good thing about this system is that A. it's a lot less complicated than the old "multiple layers of metal pieces forming a flexible pressure-transference system" (vulnerable to icing up in sub-zero temps) and B. it's relatively easy to hack in regard to replacing the rubber piece, even though it's not designed for such replacement. So when my wiper blades started to skitter on the upstroke (clearly from coming to rest after making a downstroke that bent them upward relative to the plane of the windshield), I took off the blades, removed the end caps with a bit of prying, and simply slid the rubber wiper material out one end and slid it back in the opposite direction before sticking the end caps back on. Unfortunately, the rubber in the blades, now bent downward, then skittered on the downstroke--equally annoying.

Aware that the original bend of the rubber edge was likely caused by a combination of the excessive heat of a Mid-American summer and the constant pressure the flexible rubber edge faces from the pressure of the blade arm pressing it down, I decided to fight fire with fire--using heat to bend the blade to a more neutral position between being flexed either direction.

My tool in this experiment was an old soldering iron. After removing the wiper blade from its arm, I took the hot soldering iron and pushed its edge (near the tip) quite forcefully against the rubber wiping piece in the direction opposite its now-distorted bend to one side, and rubbed it back and forth on that piece until it appeared to be straightening out. This is not a quick process--figure a couple of minutes minimum per blade. The rubber does emit some unpleasant smells, but nothing melts (unless you get too close to the plastic blade structure itself) and the soldering iron stays clean. Some sections of the rubber edge are particularly bent over and require almost ridiculous overcorrecting with heat and bending to spring back to a more neutral position. And I've noticed that beyond just a general rubbing and pushing of the iron's edge along the edge of the whole rubber piece, it helps to take the tip of the iron and push it into the edge between the metal stays and the first "T" edge of rubber sticking out from it while moving it back and forth. (In fact, the tip of the old iron had already had a channel cut into it with my Dremel for another project, and that helps keep it in place as it slides against the exposed edges of the rubber piece.)

The reward has been substantial: All the skittering the blades used to do in one direction or the other is gone. Now I can replace the blades only when the rubber actually stops wiping well--and I'm already scheming ways to automatically cut wiper blade rubber to create a fresh, clean, straight edge, too. It's time to defy the wiper blade arm/industrial complex! We will disrupt their devious plans to sell us new blades every year, and re-empower ourselves to get just as many fresh, clean, quiet wipes as we do in the privacy of our own bathrooms.

MaxBrushOff--The Shame of OfficeMax

Sometimes extended warranties pay off, but are you willing to pay the price in time and frustration?

Early last year, after returning the abominable Epson WorkFarce 1100 ("now with InstaClog (tm)") I had just purchased from Amazon, I went to the local OfficeMax and grabbed my first HP printer, the OfficeJet 7000.

My wife needs wide-format printing for her design studio, and large-format units with a reasonable price are rare. We weren't sure of what to expect from HP, but it turned out to be a good purchase. In fact, my review of the OfficeJet 7000 is now the top-rated favorable review of this particular model on Amazon. In short, if you're willing to pay for the ink, the OJ 7000 reliably puts ink on paper and has first-class four-color print quality (i.e.: not designed for photos, but great at graphics).

Printing is not an everyday task in my wife's studio, but when she needs output she tends to need a whole stack of pages, and client requests or prints for product prototyping won't wait. So I took the sales pitch for the extended warranty that OfficeMax offers, reassured that I could get my printer fixed or replaced within a three-year period . . . A fifty-dollar insurance policy.

A couple months ago, after a solid 18 months of reliable service, thousands of pages, and hundreds of dollars in ink, our loyal little HP began to act up. Specifically, my wife noted that the printer had difficulty ejecting pages properly to the output tray after printing (where before it had nearly shot the paper across the room), requiring her to grab the paper and pull it out.

The next phase was not just improper paper ejection after printing--It was the paper stopping its forward motion just before the page was done, causing ink to be laid down in one spot and ruining the whole print.

I dug out my original sales receipt and MaxAssurance information folder and realized I needed to "register" my purchase online merely to ask for help. The registration process on the MA site was a bit obtuse, but functional, and after getting through that I was asked to describe the problem, a precursor (I imagined) for getting someone on the phone or web chat to talk over the problem. Instead, it was a list of tech support articles / troubleshooting suggestions, none of which had anything to do with this particular model of printer.

When I responded to this presentation of suggestions with the interactive button labeled something like "Sorry, the problem still exists," I was given a reference number and asked to call the number shown on the MaxAssurance folder, which promised "a quick toll-free phone call" where "customer care reps are available to assist you 24/7."

First, there's nothing "quick" about calling MaxAssurance, or whatever third-party call center sweatshop represents this particular brand. After automated routines that ask you to enter (and confirm) your phone number, incident number, and navigate a prickly phone tree designed to peel off the inattentive, you finally get to talk to a first-tier functionary who laboriously and woodenly confirms everything you've just said, point by tedious point, as if writing it down on a clipboard with a carpenter's pencil.

After describing the issue that I had already documented in my initial registration process, I was shuttled off to another group which would ostensibly perform the actual troubleshooting.

After several minutes of holding, I was again asked to repeat and confirm everything I had already said, and a bland, equally wooden-sounding supposed technician took the line and suggested I "clean the printer's rollers." I had to admit that was worth a try (though he was sketchy on the specifics), but before dropping off the line I asked if there was any way to avoid repeating the entire phone-tree/call routing routine if the cleaning didn't work and I needed to call back. Surprisingly, he offered a 24-hour case number and special line that would get me through directly.

The call ended, I checked the OJ 7000's online manual and found a brief reference to cleaning the print rollers, but only the rollers at the back of the machine, that would seem to have very little to do with ejecting the paper. But they were a bit dusty, and--determined to give his suggestion a fair shake--I cleaned them.

For several days, the problem appeared to have faded away. Then it started again, and again I got on the MA website and logged in. After the perfunctory "have you tried these fixes?" scan, I hit the "Start web chat" button, which promptly popped up a window telling me web chat was closed for the day.

Back to phone: I again navigated the smarmy phone tree, entered/repeated/confirmed my information multiple times, and again talked to Miss Initial Screening before being transferred to Mr. Technical Answers. I will give this service credit for having easy-to-understand English speakers, but they seemed so bored and miserable in their roles that I felt sorry for them--and tried to keep my patter polite.

The call lasted about twenty minutes total, and included being put on hold multiple times, with distorted-sounding background music that almost seems designed to induce hang-ups. But Bored Mr. Tech finally came back on and informed me that his employer would not attempt to repair this device--They would simply issue a check for the original purchase price.

It was a positive outcome, particularly since I had expected a long-turnaround ship-in and repair process that would leave us printerless for weeks or months, another part of the typical service equation designed to make the average buyer say, "Oh, forget it. I'll just go buy another printer."

Anyway, the MaxAssurance warranty was probably worth it in this case, the difficulty of "filing a claim" notwithstanding.

After Mr. Tech told me that the check was on its way ("10-15 days"--You just can't rush these things when Frank the Accountant has to write them all by hand and ponies with mailbags must be dispatched), I thanked him, and politely told him I wanted to pass a comment on to his supervisor or manager. There was a pause during which he offered no acknowledgment of what I had just said, but I could hear him breathing so I forged ahead:

"I'm going to share my experience with MaxAssurance with my friends, family members, co-workers, and anyone else who stumbles across my consumer value blog. I'm not going to say bad things about the people who work at MaxAssurance, but I am going to share a factual account of the tedium, repetition, delays, obvious attempts to induce frustrated hang-ups, and generally lackluster treatment your organization markets as 'customer care' and a 'quick toll-free phone call.' Then other prospective MaxAssurance buyers can decide if they want to deal with the experience I've described, or tell the sales person, 'No, thanks, I've heard filing a claim is difficult.'"

Silence. "Are you still there?" I asked. Pause. Then with immense weariness: "Yes." He made no attempt at justification, damage control, or even polite acknowledgement. I could almost imagine him thinking, "I know, you annoying !$#%--and I hear what you're saying a dozen times a day. But I am spiritless and broken and paying $1100 for a one-bedroom apartment in Pasadena and now she's bringing her kid to live with us and I simply have to keep this !#@$ job."

"Do you need any more information from me?" I asked. "No." "Alright, thank you very much!" Then, with no further comment from Depressed Mr. Tech, the line went dead.

There's a tech support worker in a photo on the MaxAssurance brochure. She smiles cheerfully from behind her headset, fingers poised on the keyboard in front of her flat-panel display, ready to help untangle your knottiest customer service issue. In the background of her light and airy room is a potted plant.

Somehow, I suspect the people I talked to don't work in that room.