You know what annoys the shit out of me?
Service-industry types with attitudes.
Like the kid picking up carts today at the Von's when I asked if they had the dry-cleaning service. "Dry cleaning, well yeah, of course", like it was something that any dolt should have known ahead of time.
Or the "Greeter" at the Verizon shop yesterday, acting like she's patrolling the line outside Pure at midnight. "I'll see if I can fit you in".
What these punks don't understand - and I don't quite know how a business can communicate it to them is - I am the customer. I don't have to shop at Von's. I don't have to use this particular Verizon store. And, you are the customer-service person. When I ask you a question, you are not supposed to act like you're doing me a favor by answering it. If you want to be a prima-donna, then take acting/music/dancing lessons, get really fucking good and then spit on anyone that comes near. But when you work at Von's for chrissakes, raking in shopping carts, you don't get to be all that with me. I (and a lot of others) won't return to your punk-ass store, revenues will drop, the manager will have to make cuts, and, guess who gets let go? You, or the cart-raker who's actually had customers come into the store and tell the manager what a great job he's doing?
And yes, you are too cool to be working for minimum wage, we can all see that it is beneath you - BUT YOU ARE DOING IT - for whatever reason, and no matter how much it brutalizes the celebrity, bling-bling image you have of yourself, you need to get with the service part of the program and stop treating people like morons because they don't have your extensive knowledge of the myriad of services provided by the Von's Customer Service Desk. Don't condescend to me because my pitiful addiction to cellular communication caused me to have to stand in your line.
If you're Microsoft, and your customers really can't go anywhere else, then you can be a dick. But you're not. And I can go to a dozen other Verizon shops within a six-mile radius and I can grocery shop at Albertson's (2), Smiths (3), or Whole Foods (1) (where, actually, the staff is nice)
Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.
-Hunter S. Thompson
Dedicated to the other side of Las Vegas, namely; the sprawling, mad, incoherent underpinnings of the world's favorite destination. That, and the occasional ranting about nothing in particular. Follow @lavi_d_avegas
2 comments:
I wonder how peeved you'd be if the smug service droids were hot topless women (ala your earlier post).
I suspect that my own dangling Y chromosome would make me more tolerant of an insouciant service attitude if it was accompanied by visible mammaries.
Wait!
Isn't this the very definition of a topless bar?
-dm
...if the smug service droids were hot topless women...
This is the point I was trying to get across in the previous post.
Why should those flesh bags cause us to alter even our breathing, let alone our behavior? What are they? We are not infants, do not need them for sustenance.
I hold that the view of tits causes the male "lizard" brain to immediately anticipate sex.
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