Everyday Ethics

As a concerned citizen who makes a conscious effort to adopt sustainable habits, I typically try to repair broken devices that I have already purchased, rather than simply replacing them with new versions of the same thing.  This is unfortunately a very risky process, as many repair shops are not terribly trustworthy, and oftentimes it is actually cheaper to replace the broken item.  As a result, one must be cautious in this endeavor, and knowledge of helpful tactics for negotiating the marketplace is essential.

One of the most powerful weapons that the consumer has is that of the bad review, or at least the threat of one.  The internet has opened up a world of information that was not previously available, and the last thing that a repair shop wants, especially a small independent one that relies on its own good name to maintain itself, is to have a negative review pop up on a Google search.  Thus, consumers can protect themselves from being manhandled by threatening to bring about this highly undesirable consequence.

I recently experienced the potency of this weapon during an attempt to have my vacuum repaired.  I won’t bore you with the details of this exchange, but a brief synopsis is helpful in light of the ethical questions that emerged from it.  Our vacuum was emitting a strange burning smell and doing a shoddy job of picking up debris, leading us to take it to a local repair shop.  They allegedly repaired it, at a cost of around sixty dollars.  Upon bringing the vacuum home and using it, we immediately noticed that the smell was actually much stronger, and a loud buzzing noise was now being emitted from the machine.

Obviously, I was not comfortable with paying sixty dollars to have my vacuum returned to me in worse condition than before, so we contacted the repair shop to inquire about their policy on guaranteeing the quality of their work.  We were informed that there was a thirty-day guarantee, and that we should return the machine to the shop.  Upon doing so, we were informed that additional repairs would cost an additional twenty-five dollars.

We were flabbergasted.  The repairperson attempted to convince me that the vacuum was in perfect working condition when we took it home, and that the immediate problems we encountered were the result of a different problem than the one they had fixed.  I found it hard to believe that my vacuum had been fixed, yet was unable to make it through a single usage before breaking down again.  In addition, the cost of the proposed additional repairs would have bumped the total repair cost to eighty dollars, which was more than the original cost of the vacuum.

Luckily, I was well aware of the power of the bad review, and had posted several prior to my attempt to negotiate a refund.  After several minutes of unsuccessfully trying to convince the repair shop owner that he actually was responsible for the condition of my vacuum, I played my trump card.  I informed him of the bad reviews posted online, and offered to remove them if my money was refunded.  He became extremely agitated, accusing me of threatening him and using unethical tactics to get a refund.  However, after several minutes of heated exchange in which I maintained that this was simply an offer, rather than a threat, he unhappily conceded to refund my money.

Arriving finally at the ethical question involved, was it unethical to utilize the threat of a bad review in order to get a refund?  After all, I am not a vacuum repairperson, and it is possible that the unbelievable story of a further problem not addressed by the initial repair might be true.  In addition, the repair shop did invest time and money in working on my vacuum, and their failure to fix the problem does not negate that expense.  Finally, if writing a bad review is a threat, is there something wrong with utilizing threats in order to seek fair resolution of a conflict?

Although I’m a little biased in this situation, a philosophical analysis of this scenario effectively vindicates my chosen tactics.  First, by agreeing to fix my vacuum, the repair shop has essentially entered into a contract with me wherein we will exchange money for a functioning vacuum.  Because they failed to uphold their end of the contract, my obligation to pay them is effectively nullified.  Their expenditure of time and parts is irrelevant in light of the fact that they did not meet their contractual obligation.

In addition, although use of a threat was not the most pleasant experience, it was effectively my only option.  The shop owner was clearly uninterested in taking responsibility for his own failures, insisting that the vacuum had been repaired correctly despite the physical evidence against that conclusion.  In an effort to seek justice, namely a refund of my hard-earned money, I had little recourse but to threaten him with the bad review.  He was unresponsive to rational negotiation and unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.  Further, the negative review that I posted was simply a factual account of my experience and a recommendation against this repair shop, based on that experience.

My suggestion is that these are the conditions that one should meet if the threat of a bad review is to be considered an ethical tactic.  First, clear injustice must be taking place, such as the gross violation of a contractual obligation and an unwillingness to take responsibility for one’s actions.  Then, the consumer must attempt to negotiate a satisfactory outcome without threatening a bad review.  If this is unsuccessful, they can threaten the bad review, but this must be done in a factual and unbiased manner.  If these conditions are met, one has ethically utilized the threat of a bad review.  Although this is still not much fun, it is a highly effective tactic that is often the consumer’s only option.  We cannot correct the unethical practices of some businesses, but we can still be ethical in defending our own interests.

About the Author

Elijah Weber is a graduate student at Bowling Green State University. He holds a Master's degree in philosophy from Colorado State University, and Bachelor’s degrees in sociology and philosophy from Chapman Univerity. He currently lives in Bowling Green, Ohio with his wife Laura, his newborn son Brandon, and his feline life-partner Monte.