WENDY KNOWLER: Unlimited clean-ups at consumers’ expense

You’re legally entitled to a five-business-day “cooling off” period if you agree to buy a product or enter into a contract during a phone conversation you didn’t initiate.

For good reason.

When you’re called out of the blue by a telesales agent, armed with a script that’s been carefully crafted to talk up what’s on offer and gloss over the not-so-appealing financial commitment bits, you’re immediately on the back foot.

Subjected to high-pressure, highly persuasive selling tactics, many people agree to what’s being offered without interrogation that would expose that it’s not really in their best interests.

That’s why our Consumer Protection Act (CPA) gives us an “out” — the opportunity to cancel within a week, with no penalty.

But in many cases the “victims” don’t realise they’ve made a mistake until after that cooling-off window has slammed shut, or they don’t realise they have such protection.

Clearly some sales scripts are better than others, but I’ve investigated too many worst-case scenarios to be a fan of telesales.

I thought I’d heard it all in terms of devious approaches, but I recently encountered a new low bar in terms of telesales trickery.

I’ve received quite a few complaints about a Gauteng “telemarketing company” called Unlimited Essentials, which sells cleaning products, targeting small businesses listed in the Yellow Pages.

Lucia Tagg, who works for a business in Lonehill, received a call last June from an Unlimited Essentials rep who, she said, offered her a test sample of a cleaning product.

But the sample, which was delivered within a week of that call, was a very large 25l container. It didn’t come with an invoice; that came some time later — for R2,846, by which time the cooling-off period had expired. Even before that whopping invoice arrived, Tagg had told the company she didn’t want the product. 

“No returns” was the response she received, so she paid, thinking that was the end of it.

But in November another 50l — two containers — were delivered and payment demanded. 

The CPA protects consumers — and businesses with an annual turnover of less than R2m — from having to pay for unsolicited goods. In short, if there is no proof you ordered a particular product at a particular price, the goods are regarded as unsolicited and you are not legally required to pay for them.

I took up the case with Usha Jekmohan, GM at Unlimited Essentials, asking for proof that those 75l were agreed to by Tagg.

The word “sample” was not mentioned at all, she said. 

If a customer’s mind has been psychologically prepared with a dynamic sales pitch to buy or confirm an order, that is not a trick, but rather skilful marketing/selling

—  Usha Jekmohan, GM, Unlimited Essentials

“She [Tagg] agreed to the intro [offer] and because she had never dealt with our company before, we split up her delivery.”

An introductory offer of 75l of cleaning product at more than R8,500? Really now?

The second two containers were “the balance” of the order Tagg had placed, she said. 

Jekmohan then arranged for me to listen to recordings of the three short phone conversations between Unlimited Essentials reps and Tagg.

I did not hear the word “sample” uttered. Tagg suggests the recording was edited, but there’s no proof of that.

I did hear mention of 25l of product, but the way the price was conveyed is misleading — “R99 per litre plus VAT”, instead of R2,846, or at least R2,500 plus VAT.

I put it to Jekmohan that there was absolutely no mention of the full initial order being 75l, split into two deliveries.

In the call confirming her “order”, the caller said: “All future deliveries will go to the same address.”

And four months later, in October, the company called to apologise because: “We were unable to send the full quantity of goods [initially].”

Clearly Tagg’s failure to question those comments cannot be construed as acceptance of another order of 50l of detergent at a cost of more than R5,600.

Jekmohan’s justification for that was staggering.

“As we are a sales company, our sales script is psychologically designed to convince a customer to buy,” she began.

“The wording of this sales script, as it is currently, is 100% on point.

“If a customer’s mind has been psychologically prepared with a dynamic sales pitch to buy or confirm an order, that is not a trick, but rather skilful marketing/selling.”

About that apparently unsolicited second delivery, she said: “A customer is notified about the balance of their order only once the first delivery is paid for.

“The customer is asked what the most used cleaning products at their business is and the order is captured based on this question.”

So the company unilaterally gets to decide how much product its customers need, delivers that, then forces them to pay for it? 

“A sales pitch does not require for all bases to be covered in terms of what the customers may be thinking or may have assumed while being pitched to,” Jekmohan said.

“As a matter of fact, it would really be impossible to gauge an individual’s thoughts unless those thoughts are vocalised into an inquiry which thus can be answered by the sales agent.”

In other words: “If they don’t ask, we send them what we think is appropriate.”

By Jekmohan’s reasoning, the company could deliver thousands of litres of its product to Tagg and expect her to pay for it.

Perhaps the clue is in the operation’s name — unlimited.

Unbelievable!

Do not engage.