This coming from "The Devil's Favourite DJ" is not actually related to work in front of house, or box office, but it matters not. It's a story of simple nightmares from a DIY superstore.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bank Holidays. A beacon of hope to others (and now me in my office job); an unmitigated blood red hit on Customer Service employees calender's around the world.
The June Bank Holiday in this store particularly resembled many a horror film, what with an abundance of potential murder weapons in the gardening tool aisle and an increase in rope/blade sales.
That being said, this particular bank holiday was especially busy. Not that this is an excuse in my story, it's not, but it is a reason as to why my customer interactions that day may not have been up to par. (They rarely were, even on quiet Tuesday's, but I digress).
Customer: Hi there, would you be able to measure out how many grass rolls I would need for my garden?
(I very nearly make my usual Dad joke "Isn't Grass still illegal?", but I resist)
Me: Actually I work in indoor gardening, and to be honest my measuring skills are not up to scratch. I pathetically got a D3 in pass maths, so I'll just get my friend from the flooring section to work it out for you.
This is true, but I gave out the black blot on my Leaving Cert as a way of being friendly with the customer and also to let them know why I couldn't help. This brings me to how busy the day was. The floor section is about 100 metres from gardening. I get nabbed by 3 different customers on my way, with various questions relating to the likes of lawnmowers, weed whackers (Isn't Weed still Illegal?) and garden furniture. Not only this, but I'm called to the returns desk to deal with a faulty engine. In the meleé, I forget about the woman and her need of grass measurement. No, it shouldn't have happened, but it did. My fault, I hold my hands up. But what transpired next was......well read on.
I look to my right as I'm dealing with the faulty engine and see the woman struggling to pull a cart of heavy grass rolls (Illegal?). I excuse myself from the broken engine man for a moment and go to help the woman and apologise profusely.
Customer: Get your manager now!
Me: I'm very sorry. And yes of course I will.
I actually got on quite well with this manager, so I knew he'd ask for my side straight away, I'd get the usual "just keep an eye on everything in future" and it would be fine. My manager comes over and asks what the problem is.
Customer: He (pointing at yours truly) forgot all about me! Not only that, he told me how he only has a D3 in pass maths! How can you hire someone like that?? Incompetence and stupidity in one!
My manager apologises to the woman, helps her to the till, comes back to me and says:
Manager: What an absolute bitch
I concur. Yes it was my fault for forgetting about her, but it's her fault for being such a cold cow to throw up a personal detail an 18 year old told her to counteract a lapse in concentration. Fuck you indeed ma'am
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Isn't that illegal?
No comments:
Post a Comment