"I wish you could be just a little more disinterested and annoyed when you take my money during your shift at the convenience store." Said NO ONE EVER!
Sweet Gummi Mary! People these days take no pride in their job. No longer is a job worth doing worth doing right. That must have fallen by the wayside back when cursive writing was discontinued.
Thursday morning, I popped into Orb K for scratchers to put in Genius's birthday card. No other customers were in the store. Only two other cars were on the lot. A couple of vehicles were pumping gas. It was nothing compared to the whirlwind of activity on a weekend afternoon.
All I wanted were scratchers. I had correct change. I looked at the ticket board close enough to read the numbers of those I wanted. Then I stepped over to the counter. The clerk was facing away from me, fiddling with cigarettes, perhaps. Maybe alcohol. I don't remember what's on that back wall, since I'm neither a smoker nor a drinker.
I know she knew I was there! The door chimes when it opens. I'm never in a hurry. Not even on this day when I needed to get to the post office before 11:30. I'd allowed time. I don't mind to wait if someone is busy helping other customers, or carrying crates of new merchandise to mark. It kind of irks me to be ignored, though. Still, I'm a civil gal. I didn't clear my throat fakely, or tap my toes, or holler, "Hey, Toots! Hows about some service?" Nope. I waited.
Clerk turned around and looked at me like I'd interrupted her saving the world from alien invaders. Like I was something she stepped in. Like I was ten toenails in a candle on the mantel.
That's just wrong. The customer is always right.
In contrast, I was fifth in line at my bank later in the morning. One girl was working the counter, and another was working the drive-thru. The gal at a desk didn't count, because she does other things like open new accounts, and she already had a customer with her.
I waited in the vestibule. It's a really small bank. Maybe three steps from inner door to counter. So people hang back, so as not to be considered snoopy. The folks ahead of me had simple transactions. In barely five minutes, it was my turn. The drive-thru girl came over to the counter.
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid this is going to take up your time. I have six savings bonds to cash in. They're already filled out, though. And I have my ID, and the death certificate."
"Oh, that's fine. Let me have your documents, and I'll get right on it. Do you just want to cash them out, or deposit them?"
"They usually say I don't have a choice. I have to deposit them."
"Okay. Do you have your account number?"
By the time I slid my checkbook across the counter, Little Teller had a deposit slip ready to fill out. She took my bonds over to the drive-thru area, where her drawer was. A man in a pickup truck had sent his banking through the tube. She took it out, and said, "We're working on it. I'll be with you in a moment." Pleasant as you please.
I wouldn't have minded if she did his transaction ahead of me. He WAS a drive-thru customer, and she was just helping out at the counter. However, she finished up my bonds, which require special access to a MEDALLION, as you might recall from a while back on my other blog, and info entered into a federal treasury website. Little Teller got my stuff done, brought me the printouts and receipt, and pleasantly asked if she could help me with something else. Nope! She was so efficient. I thanked her, and moved aside for the next customer behind me.
Little Teller went back to the drive-thru, and apologized to Pickup Man for his wait.
"Oh. That's okay. I thought you forgot about me."
"No, I was assisting another customer at the counter, and it took a little longer than expected. I am sorry for your wait."
"No problem! Thanks a lot!"
Little Teller had Pickup Man eating out of her hand. And he could barely even see her through the tinted glass. It was all in her voice and her attitude.
Now THAT is customer service!