Don't shout. Don't swear. And use pink envelopes drenched in aftershave: How to complain successfully by the King of the complainers

By Julia Lawrence

Last updated at 12:39 AM on 15th October 2011

Clive Zietman's successes include refunded holidays, countless free meals, complimentary theatre tickets and umpteen bars of chocolate

Clive Zietman loves to complain. Not whinge, not gripe, not create scenes in hotel lobbies or reduce ￡5-an-hour waitresses to tears over the temperature of his soup. He loves to complain — properly.

Cancelled flights, delayed trains, shoddy airline food, squashed chocolates, potholes in the road, his wife’s baggy stockings, lame BBC drama plotlines — you name it, he’s complained about it.

To date, this genial 52-year-old father-of-three has penned well over 5,000 letters of complaint in a 20-year crusade, targeting everyone from Hillingdon Council to his Holiness the Pope.

He insists that complaining is an art form, a performance that — if delivered well — can reap untold rewards and right a multitude of wrongs. 

Indeed, if anyone can lay claim to being King of the Complainers, it’s him.

His successes include refunded holidays, countless free meals, complimentary theatre tickets and umpteen bars of chocolate.

But Mr Angry he is not. To borrow a line first delivered by Robert F. Kennedy, Clive doesn’t get angry, he gets even.

‘Screaming and shouting is a complete waste of time and usually directed at the person least in a position to do anything,’ he says.

‘I like to compose my thoughts and then compose a letter. People won’t want to help you if you are aggressive, they respond much better to humour, flattery and good manners.’

Screaming and shouting is a complete waste of time and usually directed at the person least in a position to do anything

Complaining is Clive’s hobby, something to pass the time on the train home from his day job as a City commercial litigation lawyer.

‘I deal with high-level, complex fraud and professional negligence, making claims for millions against banks, accountants and surveyors.

‘In a way, that is all about complaining as well, but on a much higher, drier scale,’ he says.

Once, many years ago, on a boring commute home to West London, he decided to write an impish letter to the managing director of the McVities biscuit factory to ‘complain’ about the fumes wafting through the carriage window.

‘The buttery smell is so wonderful that every day I salivate like a Pavlovian dog,’ he wrote.

‘On a bad day, I have been known to dribble like a geriatric and have even been caught in a doggy position with my head poking out the window.’

The result? Some free snack packs of biscuits to share with his fellow commuters and an equally jovial reply from the company’s consumer services manager, obviously delighted to have a break from the usual  run-of-the-mill complaints.

If that was a bit of fun for a few free biccies, there have been more serious victories as well during Clive’s career as complainer.

There was the new ￡15,000 Volkswagen Golf GTI he secured within 24 hours for a friend who’d complained for the best part of a year (without any success) about his faulty vehicle.

Then there was the refunded luxury holiday worth ￡2,000, secured after Clive’s wife Bettina broke her leg when she slipped in a puddle in their Majorca apartment after the dishwasher sprung a leak.

Clive’s professional complaining began in the Eighties when he was with a group of friends at an airport in Dublin and they were told the flight had been delayed.

A group of American tourists marched up to the desk and demanded a free lunch. When Clive realised it was that easy he vowed to always complain.

WRITE A LETTER: A real letter, made of paper, sent in an envelope with a stamp on it. Emails are too transient

These days, there is almost nothing he won’t complain about — often going to great lengths to prove his point.

After Clive was served mouldy strawberries on a British Airways flight, he used a courier to send the offending fruit to the airline’s chief executive.

To compensate, BA invited his daughters, Nina and Zoe, to Heathrow to personally carry out an inspection of the airline’s catering facilities, which they adored.

Then there was the time he delivered a petit four — complete with human hair sticking out the sponge — to the owner of a restaurant chain.
The result? A slap-up meal for four on the house.

There was also the box of Danish liqueurs delivered from Copenhagen after Clive threatened to chain himself to the railings outside the Danish Embassy and flambé himself in liqueur in protest at a squashed chocolate. And a bench installed at his local train station after Clive wrote a poem in complaint at miserable mornings standing on the platform.

The verse was delivered to the managing director of Silverlink Train Services, with a hand-drawn picture by Zoe of Daddy looking ‘very grumpy with achy legs’.

‘It’s not that I’m a Victor Meldrew whinger,’ he says. ‘I just can’t bear bad service. We have a right to good service and should expect it and demand it.

'In fact, what irritates me more than anything is, unlike the Americans, we Brits are pretty hopeless at complaining. We are like twitching rabbits, cowering and grumbling but doing nothing.’

To that end, he has written three books on the art of complaining (under his nom de plume Jasper Griegson) and has also had a sideline for many years as a consumer champion, helping members of the public fight for compensation.

Indeed, perhaps his proudest moment as a complainer was managing to get a full refund for a 90-year-old who’d been ripped off by a double glazing company, a result Clive describes as infinitely more satisfying than anything he has achieved as a lawyer.

So, back home, how do Bettina, and daughters Nina, now 22, Zoe, 18, and 12-year-old son Joe cope with living with Britain’s biggest moaner?

‘Oh Bettina loves it,’ says Clive. ‘I’m the one who sorts everything out, and despite this Mr Angry persona, I rarely lose my temper, I’m really quite meek and mild.’

Really? Surely, he must be a nightmare to live with. Hasn’t Bettina ever been summoned to answer for a serving of soggy broccoli or a scorched shirt?

‘Oh no, of course not,’ he laughs. ‘But then she wouldn’t do that, as my wife is perfect in every way.’

It seems there are some things even Clive knows you should never complain about.

So, for those who struggle to complain, here is Clive Zietman’s expert guide to getting even:

KEEP YOUR COOL

Never shout and swear — it achieves nothing. Don’t spoil your meal or your holiday by getting into a heated argument with a waiter or customer services call centre operator, no matter how angry you are. Make a mental note of the circumstances, gather your thoughts and compose a letter later.

GATHER EVIDENCE

Don’t go too far though; it is an offence under the Post Office Act to mail any noxious substances. Take a photo of the cockroaches crawling out of your shower on holiday, but don’t mail them to the tour operator’s managing director — tempting as it may be.

WRITE A LETTER

A real letter, made of paper, sent in an envelope with a stamp on it. Don’t bother with emails, which are too transient, or standard, printed-out complaints forms, which rarely progress beyond the customer services in-tray.

And unless you are particularly fond of Vivaldi, don’t waste your time ringing a customer complaints line. Your letter should be short, snappy, to the point and should fit on one side of A4 paper. And type it. Deciphering handwriting is too laborious, and the recipient won’t bother.

KNOW YOUR ADDRESSEE

Dear Sir/Madam is lazy. Taking the time to find a person’s name and title shows initiative.

And address them by their first name. ‘Dear Bob’ personalises the letter and shows you want a proper discussion with a human being. 

There is a labyrinth of people in authority to target, but Clive recommends picking on the company’s marketing director or finance director, as they’re probably the least busy.

Clive says: ‘These people should welcome you drawing to their attention the problems with their company and saving them money on expensive management consultants.’ 

BE CREATIVE

Poems, hieroglyphics, letters sent in blackmail guise using cut-out print from newspapers — anything to catch the recipient’s eye.

‘I once sent a letter in a pink envelope, reeking of expensive aftershave, marked “Private and Confidential”, to a female member of the board of John Lewis. It worked a treat — no PA was going to open that,’ says Clive. 

He also sent a package in the shape of a missile to Sir Terence Conran when he was the chairman of Mothercare, after a baby hold-all did not live up to Bettina’s expectations. ‘It got an instantaneous response,’ he remembers.

BE PERSISTENT

Clive never gives up — ever. If he doesn’t receive a reply from one addressee, he’ll try another, citing the earlier lack of response.

He is also fond of the ‘scatter gun’ tactic, sending lots of letters to various people at once. Always mark your letter ‘Strictly Private And Confidential’.
‘It will still be opened by a PA, but experience has shown it is likely to be treated more seriously.’

USE THE O-WORD

Banks absolutely hate it if you refer your dispute to the Financial Services Ombudsman. This costs you nothing, but is a real pain for the bank concerned, as the process is time-consuming and expensive for them.

For more information, go to financial-ombudsman.org.uk

THREATEN SANCTIONS

If your gripe is serious enough, make it clear you will not hesitate to change to another bank/mobile phone provider at the drop of a hat.
Smart companies know converting an angry, aggrieved customer into a satisfied one makes them much more loyal. They will go and tell everyone about the brilliant response they got and the free flight or upgrade.

BE OPEN-ENDED

Don’t be specific in what you expect to receive by way of compensation. Leave it up to the company — it may exceed your expectations, but make it clear you will not be fobbed off.

A standard sign-off from Clive would be: ‘I look to you for a meaningful gesture of goodwill, but let me assure you a dismissive  two-line apology from customer services will not suffice.’

USE FLATTERY

Pile it on. Use phrases like ‘I can only imagine this is an extraordinary departure from your usual high standards’ and ‘I would dearly love to shop with you again if you can demonstrate to me that you are still as good as I know you used to be’.

Negative abuse and aggression do not work.

USE HUMOUR

Humour is the best weapon at your disposal. For years, Clive has invented a friend called Neil, whom he uses to inject a bit of joviality into correspondence. 

‘He used to pop up at the end of my letters asking stupid questions. In a complaint to a petrol company I’d say: “By the way, my mate Neil wants to know if unleaded petrol weighs less than leaded”.’

Clive (and Neil) normally get a reply.