There is a lot of talk about meeting client expectations and what happens to relationships when expectations aren’t met. Maybe our family is under an ill-favoured star, but we seem to be getting first-hand experience of failed expectations.

Some five weeks ago, daughter Kate ordered some stools for her new apartment. She was having a housewarming party in a month’s time and wanted the stools so guests could cozy up to the counter in comfort.

When she bought — and paid for — the stools, the salesperson assured her that delivering the stools in time for the party was no problem. In fact, Kate was told, she would probably have them in three weeks.

Well, it is five weeks later and still no stools. Nor has the retailer called to offer an explanation or an apology. “It isn’t just that I have no stools,” Kate says. “It’s that they took my money and haven’t talked to me in five weeks.”

Kate, who is studying for her CFA
Level 1 exam in June, is right on top of the time-value of money. “Opportunity cost,” she says. Especially since, investing in furniture for a new apartment has been a gradual process for Kate, who is still dealing with debt left over from university days.

My tale of failed expectations has to do with my car. Over the Christmas holidays, when the weather was cold, I noticed a build-up of frost on the inside of the car. It seemed odd, but I wasn’t driving the car much during the holidays. And there was so much other stuff going on, I put it aside until later.

Then, I couldn’t help but notice how squishy-wet the floor mat was on the driver’s side. My husband accused me of having spilled a bottle of water but, nevertheless, rigged up our dehumidifier in the car in an effort to dry it out. It didn’t help.

The pièce de résistance came when I was back at work. When I left work one night, my battery was dead. Thanks to the efforts of co-workers and, finally, my husband, we got the car running again. But when I later stopped and shut off the engine, it kept on running.

Now there was no getting around it; something was wrong. To make a long story short, when I showed up at our service centre and recited my tale of woe, the service manager put it down to a broken drainage line from my sunroof. Huh? The line had gotten blocked and instead of water draining away, it had pooled in the driver’s foot well — just above where the circuit board resides.

We are all familiar with Murphy — and this was Murphy in spades. It turns out my four-year warranty had run out a couple of weeks earlier. In the end, the car dealer shouldered the cost of the parts and we split the cost of the labour. It still wasn’t cheap and it took the shine off my love affair with my car.

It’s still a good car but would I recommend it? Maybe, but not with the same enthusiasm that I would have a few months ago. And certainly not without some caveats — such as don’t buy a car with a sunroof. (Try Googling “leaky sunroofs.” Mine is not an isolated experience.)

And what do missing stools and leaky sunroofs have to do with advisors? Advisors face expectations all the time. And clients who feel as Kate and I do aren’t going to do your business any good.

It is all about service levels. In neither case, did anyone go the extra mile for us. Despite a visit to the store, Kate still doesn’t know when her stools will arrive. Sure, the car company — in the end — picked up most of the cost of getting my car running. But it designed and built the car, not me.

Our expectations go up in direct proportion to how engaged we are. I am afraid that gives us further to fall when expectations aren’t met.

-TESSA WILMOTT, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF