So this morning, I answer the phone to have a guy ask me about the USB Christmas trees we carry.
Me: Yeah, I got some in stock.
Man: And I hear they're discounted?
Me: No, they're ten dollars each.
Man: I was talking to a girl at Westmount, and she said that any store would be able to give me a deal on those.
Me: Well, it's really manager's discretion. That would be something my boss would have to clear. What the girl promised you at Westmount would usually only apply to that store. it's a case by case basis.
Man: Is L there?
Me: No, L's the manager of the store downstairs. M's the manager here.
Man: Okay. I'll just get the phone number to downstairs.
Me: Certainly. Here you go.
No problems, right? Fast forward three minutes...
I answer the phone.
Woman: Hi, I'm the wife of the customer who just called about Christmas trees.
Me: Okay.
Woman: I'd like to speak to your manager.
Me: I'm the assistant manager.
Woman: I'm wanting to get the number to head office because of how you treated us.
Me: (starting to bristle) Pardon?
Woman: The last time I called head office, they told me whatever one store promised, the others would honour.
(I'm pretty sure that's bullshit. The hairs on my neck stand.)
Me: As I told your husband, that's completely at the manager's discretion.
Woman: Well, it's kind of convenient that your managers aren't here. L's not downstairs, M's not there, the girl I was talking to at Westmount isn't working today.
(Because, I thought, they've OBVIOUSLY left to spite you, bitch.)
Me: I'm sorry, ma'am, if that's what Westmount wants to do for you, that's something only Westmount will do for you.
Woman: Give me your head office's number. If you're not willing to do it for me now, you'll do it when they tell you to.
I start vibrating in anger. Seriously.
Me: Here you go. This is my district office's number. If you really want these trees at the price that Westmount told you, I could always send them out to Westmount.
Woman: You can do that?
Me: If Westmount asks for them, yes. You'd have to have them bring them in for you.
Woman: So I couldn't ask you to?
Me: No, it'd have to be them. (Well, that's not true. I could've sent them out if you didn't decide to anger me. But too bad. Not helping you now.)
Woman: I'm calling head office.
Me: If you feel that's best.
At that point I would have hung up, but she kept on irritating me, leaving me to fume and vibrate in silence, because if I had opened my mouth at that point, I would have given the bitch something to complain about. But, man, after I put down the phone, I was needing to let out some anger, let me tell you...
1.28.2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
Too funny...
customer service = sucks.
I hate having to be nice to someone when they don't deserve it.
I agree with you, Jeans, but as a retail worker, that's almost part of the job description. You're representing your company and the image they've chosen to convey. In some retail chains, that image may be as a friendly, helpful person who spends a lot of time chatting up the customer and giving them exactly what they're asking for. In others, the image may be a mere cashier. In still others, you may be asked to bend over backwards and treat customers like their vitriol and sense of entitlement are a canteen of water to a man crawling through the desert.
It doesn't surprise me that some customers suck. That sense of entitlement really pissed me off back when I was working retail, and I did the assistant manager thing as well, so much of the day-to-day shit was directed upwards to me. What does surprise me is that some companies cave to this sort of pressure. Indeed, some companies use a customer's sense of entitlement against them, because this sort of person is more likely to believe half-assed bullshit stories and believe anything they're told.
Stoopid customers; without you, retail would be more fun to work!
MORE POSTS JAGO!!!
WHERE IS THE NERVE GAS???
I want more posts...! I delight in your wit and your Bob Hopeesque subtle ironies.
That's funny. The LAST thing I think of whenever I think of either me or Bobe Hope is the word "subtle."
A post will be forthcoming, though. I'll type one up tonight.
Post a Comment