Zen and the Art of Angry Customers

I’d like to speak to your manager. Right Meow.

Happily Never After

Once upon a time at one of the largest technology companies in the world, my boss’ boss flew into our office to fix the ongoing customer dissatisfaction issues that plagued our account.

For months, we struggled through increasingly angry feedback regarding a whole host of issues, but thankfully, our knight in shining armor arrived just in the nick of time to set things right.

Over a series of tense meetings, he created a scorecard of agreed-upon metrics that would set baselines for the acceptable fulfillment of our obligations, clearly prove our performance, show the value we provide, and finally put an end to even their angriest complaints, once and for all!

And it worked! . . . sort of. Despite hitting every metric beautifully, the client terminated our contract less than a year later. But hey, no more complaints, so . . . yay for that?

The Heart of the Matter

With the wisdom of hindsight, the failure in our team became obvious: we cared (very much) about what they were angry about, but we never cared about them being angry.

Said more directly: we never cared about them—the people we were working with every day who were experiencing very real states of distress, so we never really solved their problem. 

Anger, of course, is a very high intensity emotion. It’s difficult to not be taken or repelled by its urgency, but in doing so, it can be easy to miss what’s truly going on for the people involved—and the actions that would be most helpful to resolve their pain.

Suffering in Disguise

When I mindfully investigate my own anger, I find that it very often shows up to protect me from feeling something deeper (and often more raw). Maybe it’s insecurity, maybe it’s self doubt, or embarrassment. Usually, fear plays a starring role: I’m afraid of some consequence that I can’t control—I’m worried that something is going to impact me in some terrible way.

Despite all of the wonderful things that make us all so unique, we are all still human (I’m pretty sure). What if I were to recognize that my own mindful discovery about how I experience anger is exactly what’s going on for my angry customers, too? What if, just like me, anger isn’t the most important emotion, it’s just the loudest?

An Experiment In Customer Empathy

Years later at a different company, in a different role, with a different title—but confronting the exact same kinds of anger—I experimented with seeing anger as a disguise for something more difficult lying underneath it, something for which I may never know the full story. Maybe the customer is worried about losing customers of their own. Maybe they’re afraid about losing their job or the jobs of their employees. Maybe they’re terrified of how they may be viewed in the eyes of their own boss and peers if they’re unable to resolve their issue with us. 

Again, even if I don’t know the full emotional story, I still have all of the information I need: I know what it feels like to be super stressed (it super sucks). I know what it feels like to need to fix a problem in which I have little or no control (it makes me want to scream). I know the kinds of experiences that cause me to respond with frustration, anger, and even rage, and I wouldn’t wish that underlying feeling on anyone.

Instead of taking anger’s bait, what if I were to take care of the person who is suffering underneath that anger?

Experimenting with this, I started to see my angriest customers as just like me—and to care for them in the exact way that I would most want to be cared for when I had experienced similar emotions. And my results were (for real) outstanding: we resolved our issues and our relationship turned from adversarial to one of trust, openness, and compassion. We became close with each other, because they knew I cared about them just as much as the technical issue we were trying to resolve. 

Worth a Try

The actionable thought experiment then is very simple—

When presented with an angry reaction, ask, “What might make me say or do what they’re saying and doing? What might I be feeling underneath that anger and those actions? What, for me, would actually be helpful?” 

And the next step is easy: Follow your answers. Don’t take care of the anger, take care of the person underneath the anger.