Dealing with technical support representatives over the years has taught me to be cynical, suspicious, and untrusting of their knowledge and skill.

However, I had an experience in the past month that was like something from a prior generation.

It started with one of my 18th birthday presents — a Westinghouse Digital Convection Toaster Oven. Now, just because it has ‘digital’ in the name doesn’t automatically spirit it from the realm of ‘kitchen appliance’ into ‘awesome birthday present’, but I was mildly intrigued. I have since discovered what an indispensible piece of food-preparation equipment it is — far more so than the microwave — but back in June, I was not so enlightened or excited.

It sat in its box in my closet until September, when I moved to Waterloo and began actually cooking. I realised then that there was something seriously wrong with my Westinghouse Digital Convection Toaster Oven. Sometimes it would cease to respond to the buttons. At others, the display would ‘crash’ halfway through a bake, causing the heat to remain on until I pulled the plug. Obviously, this behaviour was unacceptable.

After poking around online, it became apparent that the model number of my product did not infact exist — anywhere. It seems that Westinghouse was in some way affiliated with a larger company called Salton, in spite of being not listed on Salton’s own brand registry.

So I called Salton with my defective oven, and they said that it was under warranty and would be completely covered, I just had to ship it to them.

Uh oh, shipping a huge, bulky toaster oven to the US was not going to be pretty. But wait, as part of the warranty agreement, they pay shipping both ways. So I had to mail them my receipt for the $22 it cost me to send it to them, and they mailed a brand new one back.

It works perfectly, and I’m thrilled with it.

But here’s the funny bit: They sent me a cheque for $22 in US funds. Now that’s service.

Mike

← Earlier Later → Posted at 12:00 pm to Business.