Customer service

A customer enters the web store and buys one or several items, but something goes wrong, and the customer reaches out to customer service. Seconds pass, and an agent answers the call, the chat, the wish. The agent helps the customer—tries to, truly tries.

But there is a bug in the software the agent uses. Oh no. “I can’t help you,” the agent says, and the call or the chat disappears, though the wish does not.

The shopping cart, with no brakes, rolls downhill toward the cliff.

“Goodbye, customer,” the agent whispers, biting their fist with plain frustration. And the call drifts away to technical support.

A ticket is opened to fix the bug, like making a bed to sleep in. The developers take their scooters and hurry down the hill. They wear helmets, and glasses to keep birds from flying into their eyes.

From the window, the agent watches the customer fade into the distance. “They won’t come back,” the agent thinks, trembling. The developers run around, following the bug’s trail on the wrong hill, of course.

The agent closes the curtains, one by one. They will try to sleep that night, in vain. They won’t manage it—too much torment. Still, they will try, with the same intensity and care they tried to help the customer.

Meanwhile, the shopping cart bleeds errors. Night falls on the hill. The developers feed their scooters, and the wind lifts the grass.

By dawn, many developers will have been lost along the way, falling silent into the cliff, but one developer will stand up and fix the bug. The developers will deploy to production and save the agent, pulling them out of misery.

The agent will reconnect with the customer. It will be awkward at first; the customer will doubt them, as anyone would—they were let down. The agent will insist, saying everything will be fine, saying they understand. But the customer will ask for another agent.

So the agent will receive a call from another agent. They will speak through different chats and share their wishes. The second agent will try to help the first agent with the company’s usual determination, giving everything, holding hands if needed.

The customer will return to the webshop like someone returning to their old neighborhood. They will buy one or several items. They will quiet their wish, but again, something goes wrong, and the form is considered lost. The customer will look us in the eyes, like a bird.

Another ticket. The developers ride their scooters again, searching for that form. A third agent climbs the hill to get a wider view of what is happening. The developers are near the cliff, looking for the form. “Lean over,” they shout to the form, “come out of the dark!”

The third agent calls the developers and shows them the role they have. They hold it above their head at the top of the hill. It is the climax. The role will guide the developers to the form. It will be quick. They will close the ticket again. They will open the store again. But the customer will not appear.

Then a second customer enters the web store and buys one or several items, but something goes wrong, and the second customer contacts customer service. Seconds pass, and an agent number four, answers the call, the chat, the wish.