"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe." -Albert Einstein
This is an actual phone call I received at work the other day:
Me: "Good afternoon, customer service, this is Donn."
Caller: "I want to speak to the head of the [magazine name] department."
Me: "I'm sorry, they don't have a separate department, we're all the same office. How can I help you?"
Caller: "You can't. I want to speak to them."
Me: "[Magazine name] is a publication that is written entirely by contributers, no one in-house. We're the publisher. Perhaps if you told me what this is regarding, I can better assist you?"
Caller (long, agonized sigh; the tone turns to one of utter condescension): "Nooooo!"
Me (ever-perky): "Ma'am, I'm just trying to help you. Does this have something to do with your subscription?"
Caller (firmly nailed to the cross now): "No."
Me (forced to wear Sherlock Holmes hat): "Is this regarding something you read in the magazine?"
Caller: "No."
Me: "Is this--?"
Caller: "I will speak to them about that."
Me (frantically trying to figure out a way to rephrase the fact that there is no them to speak to): "I'm only trying--"
Caller: "Look. Put me through to someone. Now."
At a loss, I transferred her to the VP of publishing, who, of course, transferred her back to customer service after giving her a free subscription (quick note: if you ever complain, you will get free stuff, it's the law of the land; contrary to popular belief, it is not the loyal, dependable, trustworthy customers who are rewarded in our society: it is the jackasses). Apparently, this customer had missed an issue of the magazine, which I don't need to tell you, is an issue handled by customer service.
Now I was really perplexed. What made this customer think that the head of a renowned magazine was going to be able to fix a subscription concern? We in customer service would have just as generously and just as quickly offered her a free subscription as penance for our wickedness, so why was it necessary to be so rude to me when the same result would've been achieved? Well obviously, I am not "someone".
Normally in a conversation like you and I are having right now, I would begin on a well-meaning, emotionally-driven tirade about how we need to respect one another, be kind to each other, realize that we're all on the same team, and blah blah blah. I would say something like, "I'm a person, too! Treat me with a little dignity, that's all I ask!" Then I would perhaps drop a picturesque tear that would catch the light just so, and you and I would go ride ponies into the sunset.
To hell with that.
This is what I'm proposing....
The next time you are at Denny's and the scrambled eggs in your Grand Slam breakfast don't meet the degree of fluffiness you require, don't send it back. Don't ask to have it remade. Don't even ask to speak to the manager. I want you to handcuff yourself to the plastic booth you're sitting in and tell them you are not leaving until you speak to the CEO of Denny's. Or until the police haul both you and the plastic booth off to the pokey, whichever comes first.
The next time you are in line at the post office, don't be discouraged about the 700 people in line in front of you and the two clerks working lackadaisically up front. Because once you get to the front of the line, you are going to whip out a length of chain and attach yourself to the counter until you get an audience with U.S. Postmaster General John E. Potter. For if anyone can right the egregious wrong of people having to wait in line, it will be John E. Potter.
You see where I'm going with all this.
It's not a time to rest on our laurels and just silently hope that other people become human. We have to take the bull by the balls and magnify their pomposity and arrogance in order to show them how ridiculous they really are. If we all do this, those people who need to learn the lesson will eventually get it.
If for no other reason than it will be very trying to get into a Denny's, or next to impossible to buy a postage stamp.
No comments:
Post a Comment