TWELVE BOTTLES, ZERO YEN

A story about wine, customer service, and why Japan does things differently

The other day, I ordered eight bottles of rosé wine from a large online retailer whose name I shall not mention.

Not because I fear legal consequences.

Mainly because they have just given me twelve bottles of wine for free, and I don't want them changing their minds.

For reasons that remain unexplained, our household wine reserves had fallen to alarmingly low levels. The order was placed on Saturday, with delivery promised for Monday.

Monday came. The wine didn’t.

The website informed me that delivery had been delayed until Tuesday. A bit unusual in a country where promised delivery times are usually strictly adhered to, despite an alarming shortage of labour. How they still manage that under the circumstances is, quite frankly, a mystery to me.

But on occasion, delays do happen – even in Japan.

Tuesday came. Still no wine. This time the website offered a more sophisticated update: Delivery date: Unknown.

With only half a bottle remaining at home, the situation had entered what military planners would classify as a crisis.

Time to contact customer service.

After successfully navigating the usual obstacle course of chatbot questions designed to test my will to live, I eventually reached a human agent. Hooray!

Judging by her name, she was sitting somewhere in India.

After I explained that I was unwilling to wait indefinitely for my wine to materialise, she immediately offered a full refund.

Excellent.

Two hours later, a voucher appeared in my account. Except it wasn't a full refund. It covered only six of the eight bottles.

Back to customer service.

Another chatbot. Another explanation. Another human agent. Another Indian name.

This time, a gentleman who quickly confirmed that a mistake had been made and assured me that the remaining amount would be refunded within two hours.

At this point, I was beginning to spend more time communicating with the Indian subcontinent than with some of my relatives.

Once the refund was complete, I placed a replacement order.

This turned out to be fortunate because I discovered a special offer: a six-bottle tasting set containing five bottles of rosé and one bottle of sparkling wine. Twenty-four percent off.

By ordering two sets, I could acquire twelve bottles for roughly what I had originally paid for eight.

I often tell myself that everything happens for a reason. This appeared to be one of those occasions.

The following day, two boxes arrived. I opened them. And discovered that each tasting set contained three bottles of rosé and three bottles of sparkling wine.

Not five and one.

Three and three.

Somewhere between the website description and the warehouse, mathematics had taken an unexpected turn.

Back to customer service.

Third time in the same week.

By now, I was on first-name terms with half the support team in Bangalore. Or Mumbai. Or wherever they were patiently dealing with my increasingly wine-related emergencies.

I carefully photographed the contents, compared the advertised bottles with the actual bottles, organised my evidence, and prepared a persuasive argument explaining why I should probably receive compensation for the four unwanted sparkling wines.

I was ready.

The customer service representative immediately replied: 'We apologise for your inconvenience. Please accept our sincere apologies. We will issue a full refund.'

I blinked.

'A full refund?' I typed.

'Yes.'

'What about the wine?'

'This item is not eligible for returns. You may keep it or dispose of it.’

Dispose of it.

An intriguing suggestion.

Let’s be clear – there was nothing wrong with the wine.

So, to summarise:

• I ordered twelve bottles.

• I received twelve bottles.

• I was refunded the entire amount.

And I was invited to keep the wine.

I suddenly found myself the owner of twelve completely free bottles.

Not through cunning planning.

Not through loopholes.

Not even through particularly effective complaining – I didn’t even get the opportunity for that.

Simply because four bottles were not quite the four bottles I had expected.

What surprised me most wasn't the outcome. It was how little resistance there was.

Nobody challenged my claim. Nobody demanded extensive evidence. Nobody escalated the case to a specialist wine discrepancy department.

The problem was simply acknowledged and resolved.

Which brings me to Japan.

Because although every customer service representative I dealt with appeared to be sitting somewhere in India, the service itself felt unmistakably Japanese.

The customer was assumed to be acting in good faith. The inconvenience itself was considered sufficient reason for compensation. The objective wasn't to determine who was technically right.

The objective was to restore customer satisfaction as quickly as possible.

In Switzerland, I suspect there would have been arguments and counter-arguments. A request for irrefutable evidence. Maybe a request to return the four incorrect bottles.

In Japan, however, customer service often operates according to a different principle:

The customer has experienced inconvenience. The inconvenience must disappear.

And apparently, the fastest way to make my inconvenience disappear was to give me twelve bottles of free wine.

Not that I'm complaining.

After all, it would be rude to argue with twelve free bottles of wine.