Whenever I am short of material, I need only pay a visit to the supermarket. It never fails. The following incident occurred the day I posted about poor customer service. This event may well explain one reason for poor customer service…poor customers.
Today Mrs. Cranky needed some celery for the Thanksgiving stuffing she was making. We have Thanksgiving Sunday before, to accommodate plans of multiple families. I had to go to the local Shop Rite for a small pack of celery; nothing more.
I picked up my celery and stood in the 15 item or less lane behind three other 15 item or less customers. Well to digress, one person had about 30 items, but there were three lots of ten of the same item. For some reason, even though each item is scanned separately, supermarket rules say that is only three items…maybe a rant for another day.
The first lady in line had one item, but then wanted some bags of ice. She took several minutes picking out two bags from the freezer right next to the register, asked about a dozen questions and then took forever figuring out how to swipe her credit card. This caused a delay of about five minutes. Five minutes is actually an hour-and-a-half in the 15 item or less line.
After about three minutes (45 minutes in a 15 item or less line) a rather disagreeable looking robust man, and by robust, I mean grossly overweight, and by disagreeable, I mean butt-ugly, started to loudly complain.
“This is ridiculous, the line isn’t moving!”
When the line still did not move, he spoke louder,
“What the heck is going on, I want to see a manager!”
He was told by a nearby employee that the manager was busy.
“Busy! I have a complaint; he is disrespecting me!”
Finally, ice lady figured out which side of her card had the chip and the line moved. After I paid for my celery, I took my time before leaving. I bided my time by checking out the nearby cigar humidor display. I wanted to see how the disagreeable robust man treated the cashier, who was a very nice, very competent young lady.
Disagreeable, robust man started in with the cashier like I thought he would.
“What the hell are you doing that this line moves so slowly? I want to see your manager!”
I immediately stepped in and gave this douche bag the business.
“Excuse me sir, the delay which several of us endured but did not complain about, was not the fault of the cashier. I suggest you pay for your three items, apologize to this nice young lady, then shut your pie hole and waddle your ample backside out of the store and go home to the rock you live under!”
Disagreeable robust man mumbled an apology, and waddled out, the nice young lady thanked me and the people waiting in line applauded.
OK, actually the disagreeable robust man paid for his three items and said nothing. I bought a cigar and went home.
But I was prepared to say all that…probably…maybe…maybe not…probably not.