"The customer is always right." Often muttered to ease the tension of a transaction gone awry at the local grocery or bank, this iconic phrase of American economic consumption (or something), has always flustered me with feelings of consumer uneasiness.
It would be unjust of me to not share that I have recently terminated my employment at a local major entertainment and media chain. Fed up with the trials and tribulations of daily yielding to the demands and requests of common folk, I decided it was best to leave the world of retail customer service to join the ranks of some higher social purpose (Nothing like McDonalds ... been there, done that).
What began as a meaningful and fulfilling job - helping customers with requests, transactions and complaints - has soured into a diseased piece of moldy cheese. What once had a creamy, soft center now has a crusty mold no one wants to deal with. As naturally as anyone might proceed, it was time to throw the cheese out.
Consider the last time you went to a store and were unsatisfied with your visit. An item was sold out or maybe in poor selling condition. There are always the unfortunate situations when you buy a CD that you have found to be edited, completely useless and devoid of any street value.
Now, try to remember how the situation was handled. If you tried to return the opened CD, the customer service representative told you that wasn't possible (since opened media has not so recently been subject to cheap and easy duplication, thanks to those handy CD-R drives on most computers now). Chances are, unless you happened to come across the sub-standard employee who was probably called in on their day off (to deal with naughty customers like yourself), you are greeted with an ounce of courtesy and explanation. (Remember, these are under ideal circumstances.)
Probably distraught with what you thought would be an easy request, getting your hard-earned money back, you suddenly start to shift your thoughts of the disgruntled employee from nice lady behind the counter to mean person (rhymes with "witch") who wants to ruin your day.
After repeating the store policy and duplicating it on a pamphlet issued by the company for situations just like these, she tells you to have a nice day, and you leave, unsatisfied. Whether you go back to that store is left up to a simple little twist called fate.
It can be noted that screaming, throwing, hitting, scratching, crying, and my favorite, spitting, have all been used as ammunition on me, and they all led to disastrous conclusions for the customer.
"The customer is always right," murmured my apathetic subconscious, trying to choose the moral approach to helping the lady who spit on my register. Gee, when that happens, you want nothing more than to scream down her throat "Listen lady! I am sorry, I made a mistake, I am only human! Now lay off or get out!" You know, something with a ring to it.
Upon soliciting a salutation and welcoming her back to the store (with a delicious sense of spite), she told me that if I was unable to help her, I was better off cleaning the bathrooms.
What my experience has showed me, increasingly, and with moments of pure desperation for a life less afflicted, is that the middle- to upper-class suburbanite, who has more than enough money to spend on small hits of the vast entertainment industry crack pipe, has nothing more thrilling to do than complain and stomp their feet.
It is not my intent, mind you, in an article written explicitly for my own satisfaction and verification, to be so hypocritical as to complain about people who complain.
In my effort to explore a world of American consumerism left unnoticed, I share my experiences to spread a simple message to all those who haven't grasped my point thus far.
I quote John Lennon with much respect to his timeless mantra: "Imagine all the people/ Living life in peace ..." Is that so hard?
