Customer Service My Ass

Finally had the confrontation I have been expecting. And it was fun.

Worked the Steven Wright show last Saturday night. When you work a big show like that you do all kinds of preparation in advance and usually things go fairly well.

But sometimes, inexplicably, things go wrong. Horribly, painfully wrong.

There is an old George Clooney movie called From Dusk to Dawn. It is a vampire movie, believe it or not, and is completely insane. Takes place in a dive bar. Cheech Marin is the bartender. Perfect.

There is a neon sign behind the bar that says "The Customer is Always Wrong". I love that. It has been my motto since I got into customer service 13 years ago.

Before I go on, I must preface my remarks, and all future remarks, with one disclaimer - I am tired. Exhausted. Since I started this two job thing it has become apparent that a 65 year old human body was not made for this kind of punishment.

There is no recovering from it. Period.

I have noticed that sarcasm has been creeping into my customer service because of that. Little by little, bit by bit, gaining strength and confidence over the last two months. I am too tired for restraint. I have been mildly sarcastic but still within acceptable bounds of normal customer service. Sort of.

Now to be fair I have never been one of those kill 'em with kindness kind of people. I don't believe in it. I believe you should be treated the way you treat me. When you are polite, I am a God. When you are rude I get cold. Very cold. Businesslike. No smile. No tenderness.

Even then, I am typically hanging on by the smallest of margins. Right on the edge of spitting in your face. Stopping just short of that.

Until Saturday night.

Saturday night was a night where I had a line of people (meaning problems) in front of me stretching from the box office out to the lobby doors. For 30 to 45 minutes non-stop.

Might not seem like a long time to you, but when you are in the middle of it, it feels like a century.

Dude and his woman came in with tickets they had printed themselves, tickets that had been emailed to them. Their printer cut part of the bar codes off so they could not be scanned. Ushers told them they had to see me. Of course that meant they had to go to the end of the long line in front of me.

When they got up to me this guy was a real shit fuck scumbag motherfucker. You know the kind. A real fuck ass dirt bag jerk off piece of shit. He gave me attitude right off the bat.

I gave it right back. My nerves were frayed at that point and, in case you lost track, I was fucking tired.

I matched all of his anger with anger of my own. And sarcasm. Full blown. Straight from the heart.

I cannot even tell you what I said, but for every objection he hurled at me, I gave him poison. Ripped up the customer service handbook and wrote a new one. One that is more to my liking.

It felt so fucking good. Cathartic.

I expected repercussions on Monday but there were none. I got away with it.

Got me thinking.....................