a new one (or at least a new hard drive or motherboard). That may be the quick way to resolve a problem and head off noisy arguments, but it also seems calculated to minimize actual face-time with customers.
4. If the hue and cry grows loud enough, going public with a formal apology. After the Maps controversy, CEO Tim Cook posted a seemingly heartfelt letter acknowledging that the company had fallen short. “We are extremely sorry for the frustration this has caused our customers and we are doing everything we can to make Maps better,” Cook wrote.
Cook seems to have an easier time apologizing than his predecessor, and that’s a good sign. And it’s not as if Apple doesn’t care what people think; on the contrary, the company constantly strives to dazzle its customers. (I was certainly touched last Friday when I was standing in line outside the San Francisco Apple Store at 6 a.m., waiting to buy an iPad Air, and an Apple employee came by with coffee and egg sandwiches.)
But there’s dazzlement, and there’s empathy. What concerns me is that dealing with Apple never feels like a real conversation. The company doesn’t have strong, obvious mechanisms for collecting consumer complaints, suggestions, and general feedback. The employees at Apple Stores are friendly enough, but they don’t spend a lot of time listening; they act as if their job is to tell you how Apple products will make your life better. The design of Apple hardware seems to stem as much from abstract sensibilities about simplicity and beauty as it does from concerns about real-world functionality. (Does a cylindrical computer really make sense, or is it just pretty?) This design sense is obviously part of what makes Apple unique. But when you place yourself on a pedestal, it gets a lot harder to hear the crowd below.
The company’s blatant profiteering also eats away at customers’ commitment to the brand. Apple often fails to pass cost savings on to customers (the iPad Air has the same price tag as its predecessor, the fourth-generation iPad, even though it costs $40 less to build, according to IHS iSuppli). And you can’t buy an Apple accessory such as a new Lightning connector without dropping $20 or $30, for parts that probably cost Apple’s contract manufacturers in Taiwan or China cost a couple of dollars to build.
When big organizations overcharge and stop feeling like they need to listen to stakeholders, you have the conditions for protest, defection, and sometimes revolution. The cable monopolies are hemorrhaging customers because they long ago stopped listening to protests about excessive bills. Microsoft got where it is by coming to rely too heavily on its Windows monopoly, which insulated it from customer feedback and almost guaranteed that it would be slow to perceive the market’s shift to mobile devices.
During the recent federal shutdown, one Silicon Valley lecturer only half-jokingly described the United States as “the Microsoft of nations,” and it seems obvious that the dysfunction in Washington will only be corrected when citizens raise their collective voices loudly enough. (When you’re talking about states rather than firms, exit isn’t as much of an option, as Hirschman acknowledged.)
I’d hate to exit Apple, but I will if I feel there’s no other way to make my point. The question is whether such threats are enough to prompt the company to pay more attention.
