The Suprising Power of Twitter

I'll be the first to admit, I was very skeptical of Twitter when I first heard about it.  Yet another social network?  Wait, you're telling me this one is just one-way short messages blasted out to the world with no context?  Hold on now, they're limited to 140 characters?  Why in the world would anyone care what I have to "tweet" about.  And why in the world would I want to "follow" anyone else when I have Facebook?

Eventually, though, I joined Twitter a little over a year and change ago.  But I had an excuse!  It was for work!  Slowly, I came to like the immediacy of it, especially in how it could surface trending links on the web that were interesting or funny.  Eventually, I plugged it into Facebook so that when I tweeted something, that tweet also became my Facebook status.  I did this because I have a Blackberry Curve phone, and the Facebook app for Blackberry is not the easiest thing to use, but the Twitter app was great.  These days, I find I use Twitter differently from Facebook.  It's easy to have short, quick, conversations.  It's still useful in finding interesting and funny content out in the wild.  And it's a useful way of sharing things that I find interesting.  And you know what, it turns out I do care what some of my friends are tweeting.  More surprisingly, they care about what I'm tweeting.

But I've only recently come to a stunning and powerful discovery.  Twitter, more than any other means of communication, has a powerful advantage when it comes to dealing with large corporations.


Case Study No. 1: Time Warner Cable

Everyone I have ever met who has interacted Time Warner Cable hates it.  They have something of a monopoly on the cable and ISP sector here in NYC (at least until some other networks finish building their infrastructure).  They're expensive, notoriously slow in scheduling appointments or doing basically anything, and the only way to get anything done is to call them.  Calling them, of course, requires more patience and perseverance than the average person can comprehend, since the folks answering the calls are generally not empowered to do anything beyond the most basic functions.

Last week, I called Time Warner Cable to schedule an appointment for them to pick up our cable box and modem and cancel the account on our current apartment.  I would take any appointment at all, I told them, so long as it was on or before the 30th of May.  They told me the next available appointment was June 8th.  I explained that I would not be living in this city on that day, and that since the "appointment" consists of them driving by, picking up the box, and leaving, I was sure they could squeeze in something.  This is a dense city, the Time Warner trucks are in the neighborhood every day.  Surely, surely they could make a two-minute stop along the way sometime in the next ten days.  No, they said, no room for appointments.  I'll spare you the details, largely because they involve me yelling, but after talking to several people and three managers, I finally reached the head of the call center in Wisconsin.  She finally explained to me that she did not have the authority to over-ride the computer scheduling program.  And she did not have the phone number of anyone who did.  And she was the boss of her office, so there was no one she could escalate me to.  Oh, she could call the Brooklyn or Manhattan offices, but even those calls would be diverted to her call center, and she'd only get one of her employees on the line.  Bottom line: There was nothing she could do.  And this was after being on the phone for nearly two hours.

Frustrated, angry, and defeated, I finally agreed to drag the box to their office myself and drop it off some day in the future, the only option I was left with.  After hanging up the phone, I vented on Twitter.  "@TWCable_NYC won't pick up our equipment, and they'll charge us until we take it to them. Customer service fail. @TWCableHelp"  Almost immediately, Bryan, one of the many folks behind the @TWCableHelp account tweeted back.  Over a few quick back-and-forth tweets, I explained my frustration, and he offered to help.  I sent him my contact info via a private tweet (called a "direct message" or DM for those of you not yet Twittified).  About an hour later, a woman from Time Warner called me.  Let me say that again: Time Warner called me.  She verified my information, and made me an appointment before we move out.  Just like that.


Case Study No. 2: Bank of America

All the drama going on with our mortgage bank approving, not approving, and hopefully someday re-approving the building in which we're buying an apartment has been another major source of stress lately.  As the messenger of the bad news, the mortgage broker I've been working with has gotten the brunt of my concerns as we've edged closer and closer to moving day without knowing where we're moving to.  He's been great, and trying very hard to keep me informed, but in the end, the decisions have been in the bank's hands.  The bank he's working with is Bank of America.  Frustrated, I again tweeted at an account of theirs that I found, @BofA_Help, more than anything as a vent for how distressing it is to be moving in five days with no clear destination.

Again, within minutes, Sharon from Bank of America tweeted back asking for my phone number.  She promised to call me herself the next day.  And she did.  Bank of America called me.  She listened to my story, took my information, and said she would do everything she could.  She called my mortgage broker directly to talk to him (he was surprised as well).  She then called the head of the condo mortgage department and talked to her directly.  She gathered all the information she could, and called me back a couple hours later to tell me everything she'd learned.

Unfortunately, there really was nothing she could do to help.  The head of the condo department explained to her the delays in approving the building, and there really is no way to make them go away.  But while Sharon couldn't solve my problem, she made me feel much better.  Suddenly, I wasn't a number on a spreadsheet.  I was a person whose concerns were brought directly to the department head.  Think about large corporations, especially customer-facing corporations, and think about how amazing that previous sentence is.

Conclusions

You can make the argument that these teams of folks dedicated to responding to tweets are a good PR move for the companies, and you'd be right.  Negative comments on Twitter are public, on view to everyone, and if the person tweeting is well-connected, can spread like wild fire.  Responding quickly to them generally elicits positive reaction tweets immediately thereafter.  Looks great for the company, big win.

But the customers win, too.  These Twitter teams, unlike any other customer-facing employees, seem to have the connections within the company to get results.  They can over-ride computer scheduling systems.  They can call department heads directly.  And they can do this within minutes to hours.  There's a psychological element as well.  The customer feels like a person, because a person responds to them.  But there's one thing above all else that is the biggest win for the customers:

With only 140 characters, there's no room for any bull.

Apartment Drama, or, Exile to the Suburbs

At this point, I'm calling it: We will not be moving into our new apartment this weekend.

For those keeping track, we found our new home back in January and signed the contract on it the first week of February.  (For those not keeping track, here's all news I remembered to print.)  There were some early complications in the way the condo was set up with commercial space on the ground floor, but those have long since been worked out.  Back in March, we had our first walk-through, and we were glad to see that it was largely ready for us to move in, with only cosmetic things making our punch list.

In April, we waited.  Waited for bank to give us our loan approval.  When that came, we were truly excited.  Everything was falling into place, and we were set.  Now all we needed was for the bank to make some final approvals on the building itself after those earlier complications.  But all signs pointed to closing in April, or perhaps early May at worst.

Toward the end of April, we heard the building had been approved by the bank.  Our lawyer scheduled a closing date for May 11th.  We were warned that the bank might not have all their ducks in a row by then, but that there was every indication to believe it was possible.  With certainty, we were told, the process was so close to being finished that there was no way the closing would be delayed beyond May.

So it was a time for celebration.  We threw a party in early May to say farewell to our backyard garden (and celebrate a birthday).  We told our landlord that the end of May was when we'd move out of the apartment, giving us time to paint the new place.  Wheels were turning, and we came to realize that Memorial Day weekend, if not earlier, would be when we moved.

Then, suddenly, the bank withdrew its approval of the building.  They'd approved it on a false premise, we were told, they didn't understand some key elements of the way the commercial space was set up.  Huh?  At least one part of the complication came from the fact that the condo uses one address, while the commercial space uses a different address.  Paperwork got confused, the bank got confused, and pulled their approval.  Whether or not we would close in May was once again under question.

Still, we were told not to worry.  The bank would sort out its confusion and re-approve the building any day now.  Any day now.  We asked our mortgage brokers for daily updates, but the answer remained "we're just waiting for the bank's approval."  We tried to be hopeful, as the weeks wore on, but in the back of our minds we were beginning to realize we needed a back-up plan.  And fast.

Which brings us up to this week.  Just yesterday, our lawyer called me again with a tentative closing date on Thursday.  That cuts is close, but still allows us time to move to our new apartment this weekend, since we can't stay in our current apartment beyond the 31st.  Relieved, I shot an email over to the mortgage broker again asking if he thought this was a possibility as well.  He does not think so.  In fact, he's confident we will not be closing tomorrow or Friday.  But he assures us, he's working as hard as he can to get it through as soon as possible.

Time for Plan B.

Lynn's parents have offered to take us in.  They live in Stamford, CT about a forty-five minute train ride from Grand Central.  They have a guest room in their basement with it's own bathroom.  We'd have use of a car, and would be train commuters to work, along with thousands of other suburbanites.  Three and a half years ago, I retreated to Stamford to wait out the job hunt, and now it looks like we'll be returning.  While I'm not looking forward to the commute (at all), I'm grateful for their generosity.  It's won't be convenient, but it will be a way of saving money and spending time with family.  And it's certainly a more viable option than finding a Craigslist short-term lease for a married couple, living out of a hotel, or hopping from couch to couch among friends (although I am also extremely touched and grateful to all of you who offered).

Louis the cat, however, may disagree when he meets Riley the dog.

3...2...1...Liftoff!

STS-132: Atlantis lifts off for the last time
Ben Cooper, Launch Photography

It was dark when we woke up.  Dark because the shades were drawn, and we had gotten to our hotel so late we knew we wouldn't be getting much sleep.  Also because it was before dawn.  Come to think of it, that's probably the main reason.

Our tickets to Kennedy Space Center said we had to arrive by 9am.  Expecting a lot of traffic, we left around 6am to make the 1-hour (on a good day) trip due east from Orlando to Cape Canaveral.  As we drove through the marshland to the coast, the sun rose ahead of us, and traffic was no concern at all.  We arrived at KSC around 7am, not really sure what we were going to do all day, but excited for the big moment that would come at 2:19pm.

I had never been to KSC before, though even I was surprised at just how much I enjoyed our day there.  In the early morning light, we walked among the towering converted missiles of the early space program in the Rocket Garden.  We saw the stages of early spaceflight become the modern shuttle program.  We played in Mercury and Apollo capsules.  We rode a shuttle launch simulator ride.  And all of this before breakfast.

As the morning continued, we found ourselves more and more drawn to one of the lawns where would eventually view the launch.  Although we did not have a clear view of the launchpad itself, there were large screens set up with live video feeds of the pad and activity around the Atlantis.  Speakers throughout the grounds were tuned to listen in on communications between Mission Control, Launch Control, and the vehicle itself.  Near one of the screens, a small stage was set up.  Here one of NASA's extremely knowledgeable Communications Officers would describe in detail what was happening as the external fuel tank (the large orange tank underneath the shuttle) was filled with liquid oxygen and hydrogen.  We could see the astronauts putting their suits on, riding up the shuttle, and being strapped in.

What was more, two astronauts took the stage as well.  They talked not only about their experiences in space, but what was happening right now with the crew of STS-132.  What they were thinking and feeling as they were strapped into the most complex machine mankind has ever built.  What we should expect to see as the launch neared, and began.  We knew the astronaut's nicknames, and how they earned them.  We knew how they chose their meals for their time in space.  We knew what they were carrying to the International Space Station.  The effect of all of this was two-fold.  For people like me, who had dreamed of being there for as long as they could remember, we felt so much more a part of the launch.  We were invested in it emotionally as well as intellectually.  For those like Lynn, who did not have the decades of background knowledge in spaceflight, it brought them into that community as well.  As the countdown clock ticked lower and lower, everyone in attendance became more than spectators, we became a community of supporters.

With about a half hour before the launch, things began moving quickly.  We heard the final checks being performed and confirmed over the radio.  A helicopter swept back and forth over the Cape checking to make sure the airspace was clear.

At nine minutes, we all stood up.  The walkway to the shuttle was retracted.  A crowd of thousands held their breath.

Two minutes.  We cheered as the oxygen tank cap swung away from the top of the large orange fuel tank.  This is the last piece of the launch tower attached the shuttle, the astronauts call it the "parking break."  The astronauts closed their helmet visors.

One minute to go, all systems check, power and communications are internal to the vehical.  Houston checks in with Launch Control.  Everything's ready.

Thirty seconds: Ground Launch Sequnce starts

Ten seconds: On our screen, we see a close up of the main engines.  Sparks begin to fly, these will burn up any excess hydrogen fuel in the area so there are no uncontrolled explosions.

Six seconds: Main engines start.  The flames are so hot they are clear and blue, and focused into tight cones behind the engines.  The shuttle rocks forward in reaction to the engines firing.

One second: The shuttle rocks back.

Zero: The white Solid Rocket Boosters on either side of the fuel tank ignite.  Smoke billows out to the side.  The shuttle lifts off the pad.  It's the most effortless movement, the one thing this incredible machine was designed to do exceedingly well.  And it does.  It rises smoothly and quickly straight up, building a pillar of smoke beneath it.

At this, we all look to the east, waiting for the shuttle to come into view.  It was the longest ten seconds I've ever experienced.  Ten seconds of anticipation to see, with my own eyes, what I'd watched so many times on TV and computer screens.  My life paused for ten seconds.

Ben Cooper, Launch Photography

And then it came over the trees.  Even seven miles away, it was larger than I expected.  And it was such a clear day, we could see every detail.  Such grace.  And it was so bright.  So bright it startled me.  So bright it moved me.  As if the rocket boosters were so powerful they had torn a hole of the sky behind them, and the sun was shining through.

Thirty seconds later, the wall of sound finally reached us.

We watched Atlantis gracefully roll over, putting the shuttle itself at the bottom of the arc it would take up into the sky.  I was five years old again, in my living room in Detroit.  I had my metal toy shuttle pressed against the TV screen, lining it up with the trail of smoke from the real shuttle.  My cheeks were puffed out from the growling noise I made and imagined the real rocket engines were making.  I was in that little toy shuttle, and I was going somewhere I'd never been before.  My thoughts, and my spirits, and my dreams went into that real shuttle on this day.  They rose with Atlantis and her crew to a new place, a new adventure.  They were unstoppable.

About two minutes after lift-off, Atlantis had one more final farewell for those us on the ground.  The sky was so clear, we saw the solid rocket boosters reach the end of their fuel, and jettison from the sides of the shuttle.  They fell off to each side, and their flames went out.  They began to fall, and eventually parachute down to the ocean.

Our eyes back to the large screen on the lawn, we watched from the external cameras attached to the external fuel tank.  We saw the horizon of the Earth begin to curve, with the darkness of space beginning to surround it.  Finally, eight minutes after launch, the external tank detached from the shuttle.  Another cheer went up from the crowd.  Atlantis was in space.  We watched as the cameras on the tank continued to transmit, Atlantis seemed to float away.  We could see the underside of the shuttle sliding easily out of view as the cameras finally stopped.

Looking around us on the ground was like waking up from an incredible dream.  I had to remember where I was, how I got there.  Lynn squeezed my hand, and I was happy.  Heading back to Orlando took nearly three and a half hours with the traffic.  Lynn was driving the first shift, and I fell asleep in the passenger seat.  I dreamed.  I dreamed the same dream as moments before, and all those years ago.