In our modern society, we are constantly asked about our opinion on the service provided wherever we go – in lifts, after airport security, following online shopping, hotel stays or visits to public facilities. Some make it easy for us by offering simple smiley faces on a familiar traffic light system.
Others have adopted the relative newcomer – the Net Promoter Score (NPS). A system so counterintuitive that providers must explain to customers how to use it. In essence, either you award top marks or you are telling the service provider they failed.
I find it ludicrous that I, as a customer, have to be educated on how to score the service provided to me. Perhaps it is the rational Swede in me that prefers to call a spade a spade. Why ever have a scale from 1–10 if everything up to and including 6 means the service was rubbish? And 7–8 – which to most people is clearly positive – is treated as if your opinion should barely count at all. Only by scoring 9–10 are you apparently signalling anything positive.
Others have adopted the relative newcomer – the Net Promoter Score (NPS). A system so counterintuitive that providers must explain to customers how to use it. In essence, either you award top marks or you are telling the service provider they failed.
I find it ludicrous that I, as a customer, have to be educated on how to score the service provided to me. Perhaps it is the rational Swede in me that prefers to call a spade a spade. Why ever have a scale from 1–10 if everything up to and including 6 means the service was rubbish? And 7–8 – which to most people is clearly positive – is treated as if your opinion should barely count at all. Only by scoring 9–10 are you apparently signalling anything positive.
How can this be? How can scoring 8/10 – nearly at the top – be considered lukewarm? In my world an 8 is hot, bordering on scorchio.
Because I now know the hidden mechanics of NPS I am forced to score higher than I actually want to. Most of the time I do have a positive experience. I would recommend the service. But I may still have seen room for improvement. Under normal logic, I might give a 6 or 7 – satisfied, would return, but not euphoric. Yet according to NPS that makes me a "detractor" who would not recommend the service at all.
It is like being asked how thirsty you are. You say 8 out of 10 – quite thirsty – but you are then told you will only receive a glass of water if you answer 9 or 10. That would really annoy me.
It is like being asked how thirsty you are. You say 8 out of 10 – quite thirsty – but you are then told you will only receive a glass of water if you answer 9 or 10. That would really annoy me.
This past weekend, I was away with a friend on a Spanish island. Sitting at the airport, my inbox was full of post-event feedback requests. ALL used the NPS scale. ALL felt the need to remind me that, really, only 9–10 counts.
The half-marathon I ran, I wanted to score a 7. The start area was chaotic. I was pushed into Pen A with the fastest runners when I should have been in Pen D. The portaloos were almost a kilometre from the start/finish area – not great before the start and a lifetime away after the finish. The official race T-shirts clearly used children’s sizing – I am 178 cm and the size L looked designed for a hobbit – and I was not allowed to swap it. Yet overall it was one of the most positive races I have run: a brilliant online booking system, excellent bib pick up and pasta party, staff who were warm and trilingual, comperes who spoke throughout in three languages, generous road closures and perfect support stations. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. It was great – just not perfect.
But I did not score it 7. I scored it 9, because otherwise all those hundreds of officials and marshals who did a fantastic job would be told they had not been good enough. I was bullied by the scale into giving a misleading score because the alternative was not an option.
The half-marathon I ran, I wanted to score a 7. The start area was chaotic. I was pushed into Pen A with the fastest runners when I should have been in Pen D. The portaloos were almost a kilometre from the start/finish area – not great before the start and a lifetime away after the finish. The official race T-shirts clearly used children’s sizing – I am 178 cm and the size L looked designed for a hobbit – and I was not allowed to swap it. Yet overall it was one of the most positive races I have run: a brilliant online booking system, excellent bib pick up and pasta party, staff who were warm and trilingual, comperes who spoke throughout in three languages, generous road closures and perfect support stations. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. It was great – just not perfect.
But I did not score it 7. I scored it 9, because otherwise all those hundreds of officials and marshals who did a fantastic job would be told they had not been good enough. I was bullied by the scale into giving a misleading score because the alternative was not an option.
So I genuinely struggle to fathom why anyone decided on a 10-point scale when really there is only one meaningful question: 'Did you enjoy the service you received – yes or no?'
You could add a second question: 'Would you recommend this service – yes or no?' Being a service provider myself I know the answer often begins with “it depends who I am talking to” or “it depends whether they need this service”. The intention is good but the question is flawed.
Whatever happened to the four-point scale we used to have, where nobody could sit on the fence? For example: 'To what extent did this service meet your expectations? Not at all / Agree to some extent / Agree / Strongly agree.'
Whatever happened to the four-point scale we used to have, where nobody could sit on the fence? For example: 'To what extent did this service meet your expectations? Not at all / Agree to some extent / Agree / Strongly agree.'
Wisdom learned
As Aristotle said, “The end of labour is to do well, not merely to do.” If a tool does not serve a meaningful purpose, it is better not to use it at all. Let us remember that metrics are meant to illuminate reality, not obscure it. Question clearly, measure wisely, and respect the people whose experience you are trying to understand.
Or in Cicci speak – let’s call a spade a spade. Does it work to dig – yes or no? If not, let’s find a spade that does the job.
Or in Cicci speak – let’s call a spade a spade. Does it work to dig – yes or no? If not, let’s find a spade that does the job.
