Customer Disservice

I don’t like my job.

You see, I’ve been working customer service in one form or the other now for the better part of three years. And it’s not the phone variety either. No, it is the face-to-face kind, where you have to stand, typically in one place, for hours on end. It’s practically inhuman.

Think back fifty years ago, and what jobs delegated you to stay standing for so long. Mannequin. Scarecrow. Decorative fountain of children peeing. All positions that have been replaced by inanimate objects.

But people don’t want to talk to inanimate objects, of course. They want someone to blame when they arrive at the store a day late for the sale (“I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t realize you were coming in today, otherwise I would have extended the sale”), or show up at the airport and hour after their flight leaves (“Sir, I deeply apologize for sending that flight off on time. That was entirely my bad. If I had known you were hammered in the bar, I would have waited for you to sober up and THEN sent the plane out”).

But seriously, no one should have to work in a place where the customers demean and berate you, and then only turn around to find the management doing the same. Especially when the management takes less responsibility than their employees while simultaneously skirting the border of legality in regards to payroll and harassment.

So yeah...that's why I left.

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Easter Man 002A