I never dared be rude to anyone when I was doing paid work; my parents instilled in me a strong work ethic and basic manners. If I was having a bad day, not one of my clients would have known. I might bitch to my colleagues at lunch time but a paying client gets treated like they are my only concern in the world while they're there.
If you are in a customer service role (or any role for that matter, but not a sausage roll) you represent a company... whether you're wearing a uniform or not, behind a til, schmoozing corporate big wigs, serving food, whatever, you are doing it in their name. You are being PAID to be nice... it's not that hard!
This week I had a run in with customer service dude who, had me spouting "Back in my day" and tutting in my head, like the fuddy duddy that I am.
I went to the toy sales to buy a trike for Tricky. I like to call it a trikey. Anyway, there were rows and rows of toys and I couldn't find the one I was after but then I spied a little catalogue that had all the bigger items in it with their barcodes. Across the front it said something along the lines of "No need to bring bulky items to layby, just bring this catalogue'. So I did.
The girl rolled her eyes at me and said she'd have to call someone to go get it because she couldn't sell me something from a catalogue. Right, even though it says it on the cover? Fine, call someone, I'll wait.
So a guy called Scott turned up and when asked if there were any in stock he moaned "Yeah, up the front. Heaps of 'em" then audibly sighed when asked to go get it. So sorry, to put you out, Scottie, were you busy scuffing your shoes along the aisles?
My rather condescending "Mate, I'm just doing what you're own catalogue says to do" was met with a shrug and and he went to get the WRONG ONE. The girl tried to assure me was the right one while the lovely Scott buggered off to do something important, like skulk around the menswear section where no one would see.
I might not be the smartest person in the world but I'm pretty sure I can tell the difference between a pink bike and a green bike. I couldn't be bothered arguing anymore so just put down my deposit and figured I would exchange it when I picked it up later.
As I walked out of the store the loudspeaker boomed "Scott back to lay by please, Scott". Yeah, you bastards, I told you it was the wrong one.
Do go around tutting in your head at the lack of customer service? Can you spot the difference in the picture?
