Most of my career has been in businesses that delivered both goods and services to customers. My very first real job, one I did for the entire three years of high school, was at a full-service gas station. I pumped gas and washed windshields and checked oil and brought my customers whatever cartons of cigarettes they wanted. And you know what? I loved that job. It got me hooked. I liked taking care of what people wanted.
And I still do. But there is a catch to working in businesses that offer service to the general public: not everyone is nice. Not everyone is appreciative of good service. Not everyone even notices it. In fact, it is probably a fair statement when I say that a large portion of the population takes service--good, bad or otherwise--for granted.
Currently I work in the retail industry. There is really only one way to survive the retail industry wth your sanity, and that is to laugh it off. If you don't, then it will eventually eat you alive, particularly during the holidays.
I thought you might enjoy some of the people and things I have witnessed over the years, and so I offer them here. Please: if you recognize yourself or someone you love, don't tell me; and seek professional help immediately.
The Cellphoneus Addictedus - This beast's numbers are growing exponentially. Annoyingly so. It's okay that you feel such a love for an electronic communication device. Really, it is. And it is also okay that you are likely spending your time, great lengths of it actually, talking gossip with the neighbor that you could easily slip across the street and enjoy coffee with, gossiping vis-a-vis. I understand the concept of multi-tasking. But, what is not okay is that you have to ask me to help you find the very thing you have walked past several times because you have been absentmindedly chatting away with said neighbor. Even worse: forcing all of us at the checklane, myself and other customers alike, to listen in on your conversation because you can't seem to put away your phone long enough to check out. Never mind that I am doing my best to smile and deliver courteous and friendly and speedy service while you do so. That's not that important. However, you should not be surprised, when you get home, to find the five-pound dumbbell you picked up in sporting goods bagged on top of your grapes, or the ice cream snuggled nicely alongside the hot chicken you bought because you have no time to cook.
"IT'S MINE" - Can you ever imagine needing or wanting something so badly that you are willing to go to battle over it? No, I'm not talking oil fields; the item in dispute in the instance I witnessed in my first month of retail was a Christmas ornament that had gone clearance. It was the last of it's kind on the shelf the day after Christmas. It all started when two women both reached for it at the same time. At first, according to the employee who called me for help, it was merely a mildly heated discussion about who saw it first and who should be able to purchase it. From there it quickly escalated into a fairly loud argument that involved profane references to each other's relatives, heritage, and education levels. By the time I arrived, these two women--who in any other situation I would have described as typical suburbanite housewives--had arms cocked and fists drawn, ready to pelt each other to a bloody pulp, even if it meant doing the same to the frantic employee positioned between them. Over a Christmas ornament. Happy holidays.
The Crosswalk Kamikaze - I am yet to understand how a parking spot can be so prized that it can cause a full-grown adult to exhibit completely maniacal behavior. Is it a Prozac failure? Is it a competitive tendency gone wild? Certainly there has been a study done somewhere on this phenomena. There has to be an explanation of how someone can be oblivious to stop signs, hazard striped pavement lengths of thirty feet, and unsuspecting pedestrians, all in the frantic pursuit of being the first to get that stall that will save them just a few more steps.
The "If I scream loud enough I will get whatever ridiculous thing I want" Customer - Yes, you may, if you are a child of five and it is your parents that are having to deal with you. But not with me. In fact, my resistance to give in to your demand is directly proportional to your increase in volume. I actually have stages I go through with this type of person. First, when they get the attention of a manager (that's me) and temporarily reduce their volume from the level they were blasting at the unlucky employee, I listen, even with a little empathy. Then, at some point, I begin to realize they are being ludicrous, and I begin to replace your voice with that sound that Charlie Brown's teacher makes, that "Whah, whah whah, whah whah." After that, it's over. Go away. I'm an immovable object, if for no other reason than principle.
Deaf Mothers - There is no doubt in my mind that the process of pregnancy negatively impacts hearing. What other explanation could there be for the mother who drags their screaming child through every aisle of my store, and then through the checklanes, so that we all get to enjoy his tantrum? Ignoring your demon offspring is not working, so why make all the rest of us suffer? We are not allowed to wear earplugs or iPods at work, so wouldn't it be more courteous and considerate of you if you either left the building or stopped in at the sock and underwear aisle and purchase one or the other to stuff in their mouth?
Miss Manners Doesn't Live Here Anymore - This is a pet peeve of mine, even more so since I started helping at my friend's restaurant. As a sport, we sometimes track the number of times we actually hear "Could I have" or "please" or "thank you" during an evening shift. Then we compare it to the number of times we hear "Iwanna" or "Ineeda" as the first words out of a customer's mouth. Take a big guess which category wins, hands down, every night. Yep. And you know what else? I am probably only better at it now because of my experience on the other side of the counter. Shame on us. We should all collectively be feeling our mothers' hands smacking us on the top of our heads. Just try to remember this: a simple' polite request, no matter how frantic your day, or a "please" or "thank you" inserted somewhere in your request will be a small highlight to that service person's day, and will also likely get you better food and service. Conversely, your rudeness is going to increase your chances of biting into a heavy dose of Batch 81 hot sauce and excessive jalapenos when you go to enjoy your sandwich.
"They pay people to do that (for me, because it's all about me)!" - Here is a fact not known to most that have never worked in the retail industry: every night, in my store and thousands others, an average of eight people spend and average of six hours each just putting back on the shelves the hundreds of items that people decide they don't want and leave somewhere else in the store. We call it abandon. Well, in the store we call it that. Privately we call it slobbiness. Would you like the cost of your retail items to be lower? Here is a good way to start: put it back. Or, as a second and equally acceptable idea, just take it to the checklane and tell the cashier you changed your mind about it. We have a system for that, and it saves us the time of going out into the store and finding it all. The same idea could be applied to that shopping cart you are tempted to leave on the curb, in the empty parking spot, or hiked up on the landscaped island. Will it kill you to walk a few more steps? Another fun fact: I never find men's tools all over the store, but I do find a great deal of women's apparel. Hmmmm...
I am sure I have ranted enough. And I cannot claim to always be a shining example of courtesy or consideration whenever I am the guest or customer myself. But now that I have experience on the other side, I try a lot harder. I know that my few minutes of interaction with that service person is either going to enhance or detract from that person's day, and I would rather be remembered as someone that enhanced it.
I bet you would as well. Have a nice day. Please.
Originally published 11/6/09.
© 2009 Cody Kilgore. All Rights Reserved worldwide under the Berne Convention. May not be copied or distributed without prior written permission.
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