If you work in customer service, you should read this.
Also, if you utilize any business that has a customer-service aspect (hint: that’s all of them), you should read this.
… Read this.
THIS, my friends, is a guide. It will show you exactly how to annoy people whose sole purpose is to serve you, the crabby asswipe customer.
1. Please, by all means, have extreme body odor. I work at a dog kennel and I cannot even begin to tell you how disheartening it is, day-in and day-out, to deal with customers who smell worse than their canines. Every time a smelly feller leaves and the next customer comes in, I feel awkwardly apologetic and uncomfortable when they’re all, “Whoo! Someone’s dog needs a bath!” and I’m like, “ha-HA! YEAH! …DOG needs a bath. NOT the person. Beause people bathe…all the time. And use deoderant. NOPE, this poo smell is DEFINITELY NOT the LARGE, SWEATY MAN who walked out before you came in!”
2. Please comment on my appearance, but only comment on the negatives. Like, you should definitely walk in, give me a once-over, and state, “WOW, you’ve had a LONG DAY!” Chances are, if I hadn’t been having a long day at that point, you just made it one. And, because of you? I’m going to drink copious amounts of alcohol when I get home, and I’ll wake up looking like I’ve had a long day, and the cycle will continue. You’re just feeding the fire, asshole.
3. Please, when you see that I work at a kennel, give me a look of pity that says, “Oh, I bet you never passed fourth grade.” …I did. And I probably made fun of people like you, because I was not only brilliant, but also AWESOME and MEAN. Also, bonus points if you reveal that you’re, say, an English professor, and I say, “Oh! My husband is an English teacher, and I hope to be, too. I was a lit major!” and you give me a look of pity that says, “Oh, I bet you are something of a dimwit because you work at a kennel.” (I’d say I’m reading too much into these looks, except today, this happened, and when I told the woman about my background, she looked at me for a long time, looked around the kennel, and said, “….Oh. Okay.”)
4. Please tell whoever is ringing you up that “Oh, now, you should be able to do that math in your head!” Hardy-Har-Har, Brainiac. Did I mention I majored in English? Also, however I calculate the bill, whether it be in my head, on my trusty calculator, or by summoning heavenly spirits, your total still comes to $465. Cash or Credit?
5. Please, I beg of you, talk very slowly to customer service professionals. Surely, they’re all idiots. You must speak to them as if they can only process one word every thirty seconds. It makes people very happy, and it really does wonders for their self esteem.
6. Please allow your dog to shit all over the office. Then laugh, pick it up with a paper towel, and say, “Hey, do you have a trash can?” Then, place it into the office manager’s hand. That’s right. Just hand that steamy dung-nugget right over. Nothing makes us happier.
7. When a customer service professional tries to give you directions, and you tell them you’re driving East on blah-blah Avenue, and the C.S.P. says politely, “Actually, I think you’re driving West,” please do not disagree. Because you’ll arrive at the office about seven hours late, and you’ll try to blame traffic, but you’ve got a tan that suggest you just spent, oh, about seven hours in the desert somewhere, and since the office is in the midwest, your cover is blown. You’re going West, my friend. West.
8. Please allow your children to play in the street outside the office. Then, every time a car drives by, shriek with horror and blame the office’s parking lot. Then, preach to the office manager about safety procedures in parking lots, which the office manager tried to explain to you already when you left your offspring outside to die.
9. CLOSE-TALKERS! We LOVE them. I don’t feel we’ve communicated unless I’ve felt your spittle and smelled the beer you drank with lunch. Keep doing that; it’s sure to win you friends in the end.
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You’re ready! You’re ready to WOW people with your ettiquette.
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I do love my job. But, truly, people can be exhausting. And I’ve learned a lot, actually, about how I treat people when I go into any business. Honestly, I used to be a more of a one-strike-and-I’ll-punch-your-teeth kind of person, and now I’m much more accomodating. Sometimes. But if you’re a true idiot, I’m not. Like, I never, ever let customers see me on the computer, on my cell phone, or just generally pissing time away. I work hard, and so I expect them to respect that. And I respect that in people that I deal with, too. I’m always sure to ask how the day is going, now, and I’m always sure to say a big thank you and tell them that I hope their day goes well. I’ve considered hugging them, but I’m wondering if I could be arrested for that. Also, the man who works at the gas station across the street might get the wrong idea, and honestly, I’d like to make it home safely at night.
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We’re apartment-hunting again! I might have mentioned this. I’m too lazy to check. Look, I’m not at work, I don’t have to have great follow-through, here.
We’re looking at a couple of duplexes tomorrow. Most of the landlords seem super-nice.
And, now, I’m going to risk a law suit by warning you a little bit. Probably none of you are looking to rent a house in Downers Grove, but if you are, I suggest staying away from a landlord who responds to your inquiry with an email that begins “Hello, dear, are you married?”
Also, this particular landlord goes into detail about how he’d like to make sure that his tenant takes great care of the home and that they are always tidy and ready for his “check-ins,” because he does those “from time to time.” Uh, dude? You’re fucked up. I’m just saying. Please stay away from me. Also, don’t start talking about how you’re putting the decision in God’s hands, because obviously, God isn’t doing the check-ins. And God knows I’m married. In fact, I believe that God is checking in on me all the time, and he doesn’t do it by poking his head into my better-be-tidy-or-I’ll-murder-you-in-your-sleep-dear home, and he doesn’t seem to want to spy on me in the shower. That’s all you, pervy landlord. All you.
We’ll be passing on that one.
But the prospects we do have are great ones, so we’re excited to figure out where the hell we’ll be living in a couple of months, if anywhere. I wonder if I could just rent out some space for us in the kennel? It’s pretty nice. They feed you twice a day. And I hear the office manager is kind of hot. Heh-Heh.
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