Three Ways To Ensure That Customer Service Doesn't Hate You

Alright, now I realize that most of those that might read this probably are working in customer service and the rest will hopefully already have these basic concepts down. I am mainly writing this because I have no idea how to handle my feelings if I am not yelling, drunk, or both. Seeing as I have no one to frighten with passionate swearing at ten in the morning, I decided to instead turn it into an article.

So yeah, customer service is pretty much getting paid fuck nothing to get kicked in the chest repeatedly. I have worked customer service nearly all of my short life. The only time I wasn't dealing with pricks and bitches was when I was cutting down trees in Idaho and generally wishing for death or when I was briefly a dishwasher and generally wishing for alcohol poisoning.

I have been a bitch for the moderately Midwest wealthy (who all acted like they were Fortune 500) at a golf course, I have made sandwiches, I have delivered sandwiches, and now I am working the front desk at a hotel. With these jobs as experience, I have compiled this short list of how to get along with your friendly neighborhood errand bitch even better, enjoy!


1. Always Remember, I Don't Give A Single Fuck.


This is the first thing you need to get into your head. The guy/lady fetching drinks/ringing your bill/getting you a room/whatever the fuck is paid to be nice, smiling, and friendly. So, yeah, if I have to I will listen all day and night long about how your son fist fucked his teacher and your sister Suzy can't pay her rent with home grown pot or whatever the shit you are slinging pertains to. I will listen to it all with a smile, nod and the friendliest, 'Oh, really?' that I can possibly muster.

They always end up sounding like this

But that is the thing, it is 'I will listen' and not 'I want to listen'. It is all up to you, buddy. Are you going to make me do this, or can we just move the fuck along and get our brief interaction over and get you to where you need to go?

The more concise you make our interaction, the faster you work to get this over and done with all goes towards whether or not I curse your wretched existence while I vomit from challenging the dickhead in the mirror to a drinking game.


2. Don't Shoot The Messenger. 


Here is a big fucking surprise to the world: there is generally more than one person working at a store/bar/restaurant/hotel/whatever. Seriously, you can take a seat if this is too much to take in; but it isn't just me in there, running around and taking care of everything.

Working as a delivery driver and at the hotel is where I have seen people shoot the messenger the most. As a delivery driver it was extremely rare that I made the sandwich, I just brought it to your abusive mug. So it was always a grand ol' day when someone would ask to check their sandwich before I left, discover something wrong with it, and then freak the fuck out on me. So then I would be out on tip, have to waste the gas going back to the shop to get a replacement, and then the gas right back.

How I wanted to deliver sandwiches

It is very similar at the hotel (minus tips and gas worry). Let me tell you, if the dude working behind the desk is cleaning the rooms as well, you are either confused and actually at a friend's house or you are at the wrong fucking hotel. It is extremely rare for me to step foot into the rooms. So, if a room is dirty but labeled clean in the computer and there are no notes saying otherwise anywhere, guess what? That fucker is clean as can be, to me. So, I sell you a dirty room and your first instinct is to flip out on me? What the fuck is that about?

The same shit happens to a bunch of waiters and waitresses I have talked to. Now, they understand that they are at fault if they bring out a burnt ass steak when they clearly took an order for a medium steak. That is something they can see. But most complaints come from subtler things that would only be known by the cook staff and the unfortunate customer. Sadly though, tons of people flip the fuck out on their waiter or waitress and cut their tip.

Excuse me, but I seem to have eaten it all. And it is your fault. FUCK YOU!

So the next time you get shit service, this is what I want you to do. First, fucking calm down. Second, establish where the blame lies.

If I give you a dirty room, it takes just a few seconds to ask me if I am responsible for the cleanliness of the room, then inform me that the room I gave you is dirty, and let me apologize and move you to a different room (complaints that are polite and calm are generally met with sincere apologies and sweet discounts).

If I bring you a sandwich and it is fucked, ask me who made the sandwich. I know some people are dicks but I always owned up if I did make the sandwich. Or I can explain that I had no idea of the contents of the sandwich because I am only the lowly delivery driver. Now I can be on my way to get you a new one all the while being mad at my coworkers rather than you for screaming at me.

If your waiter or waitress brings you food that is fuck awful. Establish if your food is noticeably foul looking, if not then calm down and realize that there is no fucking way that the person handing you your plate could have known it was fucked. Then politely tell your server that there was an issue and send it back. Your waiter will then do his fucking job and haul ass yelling at the chef for killing his tip and get you a new plate.

Don't just stare at it, chef. Eat it. 

All I am saying is it is so damn easy to save a hassle and a scene for everyone involved and just calm the fuck down by not screaming at the person who just happens to be right in front of you and just so happened to be involved in the process at some point. If you absolutely have to scream at someone, just know that you are screaming at the right person.


3. Remember I Am (mostly) Human


To me, this is the simplest and most important one. If you want to go on and on about your life or whatever, go ahead I guess. I mean, I am getting paid for it and I can always laugh about you with my friends later. If you want to scream in my face and call me a piece of rat shit rolled around in foul meat, go ahead I guess. I mean, I can still afford a case of beer and kill hookers while cursing your name in Grand Theft Auto. But, don't you dare forget that I am a human being.

I am painfully aware that I work for absolute dick wages, can barely afford my bills, and nearly freeze every night in my apartment. I am only truly happy two days a week, if I am playing video games, drunk, or hanging out with my girlfriend. So, I can't fucking tell you what it means to me if you tell me a simple 'Thanks,' 'Hey, thanks for helping me out,' or 'I appreciate that there weren't bees in my room.' Seriously, some old dude said that last one to me once and it really made my day.

Every time I fucking stay at a Best Western, Martha. Every time!

So go out to eat and thank your waiter. Go get drunk and thank the bartender for having a stiff pour and a vigilant eye for empties. Get delivery and thank the dude for being rather speedy. And most importantly, stay at a hotel and thank them for not having bees in the room.