Lifetime Warranty? Not so fast.

I’d been dealing with a hinky zipper on my favorite lightweight, down jacket for a while. It kept separating from the bottom up—typical, after so many years. I wear it a lot.

But no worries. I got it from one of the great, outdoor clothing companies which touts a maximum warranty program that guarantees a product forever and ever, no matter what. They’re well-known for it and made a big deal about it in their ads.

So, I sent a photo and received word a couple days later: “your gear is unfortunately past the life of the product and the point of a replacement possibility,” and they issued a website code for 30% off something new. “I am so glad you got twelve years out of your jacket! I’m sure it has lots of memories,” they wrote.

Indeed. I’d been all over the place with that thing. The K-Tape patches on the cuffs and shoulder reminded me of campfires, difficult stoves, places far away, good times and great friends. I didn’t realize it’d been a dozen years, but the jacket had served well. Still going strong, too—just the zipper wore out.

So, when the service rep encouraged me to “scoop up a great replacement piece for your future adventures” I was disappointed. I didn’t want a new jacket. Mine is fine. It merely needs a fresh zipper. So I wrote back, asking about a repair option.

“Unfortunately, we do not do repairs,” he answered. “I wish we could help, but maybe it’s time to pick your new favorite jacket” he said, reminding me again of the website’s thirty-percent-off code he’d sent earlier.

I went from disappointed to frustrated—not because I wasn’t getting a free fix. Not at all.

That amazeballs warranty the company touted seemed like an open door for abuse and I’ve spent enough time on that side of the business to understand what taking advantage of a brand looks like. I had no interest in taking advantage of them.

No, instead, I got frustrated for reasons that every manager and chief executive should hear:

  1. My original purchase choice felt undermined—I bought the item with “forever” in mind, because they promised their goods were up to it. Evidently, though, the company feels its products are so disposable, they won’t change out a zipper. They’d actually prefer I threw their jacket away.
  2. I reached out with a problem and was treated like a lead, instead. That sucks.
  3. Companies need to be more responsible for their products, post-sale.

It nagged at me. I love this brand. So, a couple days later, I rang up to talk it over with their warranty manager. Glad I did.

Turns out, that all-inclusive warranty was indeed being abused. Return rates doubled since its enactment and too many customers cried “warranty” whenever a new color became available. This had been under review for years and, according to the manager, the company had published a new, more restrictive warranty policy only three days before they received my note.

This follows, according to the manager, an industry-wide trend to reign in warranty costs. He cited LL Bean, REI and other large retailers and brands who’ve decided they can’t continue to accept returns unchallenged and have begun telling customers, “no.”

Makes perfect sense. It’s either affordable or it isn’t.

But as companies reduce costs that result in a change their customers may feel—especially when it can affect a quality perception—they risk alienating customers and devaluing their brand. Instead, a smart, coordinated messaging campaign should be crafted to ensure customers stay and follow them.

Like nearly all its competitors, this company’s products are offshored—no manufacturing here in the States. No repair center, either. What a pity. At least, the manager said, they’d consider finding a national repair center that can take on repairs, even if for a fee. Perhaps they can refer customers to that business in the future, he offered.

As the electronic industry is being called to task, thanks to the Right to Repair movement, all industries should be put on alert: enact policies now to extend product life cycles, support reuse and repair and provide clear, end of life-cycle disposal options. We can’t just keep chucking stuff away.

–ML

Author: ML

Michael Lane is a native Californian residing in the South Bay of San Diego County with his lovely wife and two dogs. He is new to ukuleles. El esta aprendiendo español.