Maybe Customer Service Isn't My Forte

There are days I despise people.

I don't go out of my way to do this, but inevitably, and especially this time of year, it happens.

I can only play "nice" for so long with dimwitted, demanding, and rude customers. It doesn't help that this particular customer was a mall walker as well. I'm pretty sure I've let my feelings be known in here about them previously.

A man entered the store yesterday looking for a Christmas gift for his wife. Kind of sweet when you think about it. Usually guys wait until the week before Christmas, if not the day before Christmas, to do their shopping. This guy was shopping approximately six weeks in advance of Christmas.

(This is pretty much where my nice thoughts about this guy end though.)

Anyway.

He finds something he thinks she'll like. I've answered all of his questions about said product as far as features and benefits. Then we get to the part of the conversation where he hits my list of people to despise.

Dimwitted Customer: What's your return policy?
Me: We have a 30 day return and/or exchange policy. Unopened and unused you can get your money back. Opened or used we will do a one time exchange.
Dimwitted Customer: This is a Christmas gift. The 30 days won't work for me. Don't you have a policy that takes that into account?

Me: Yes, we do.

Dimwitted Customer: Okay, I'll take it then.

Me: Wait a minute sir. Let me explain how that works. From November 15th through December 24th we allow returns and exchanges on items sold through the end of January. Today's the 13th.

Dimwitted Customer: You people are all the same! Always trying to rip me off!

Me: Excuse me?

Dimwitted Customer: You heard me. Stick this (item) up your ass.

Me: Sorry sir. That particular orifice is exit only.

Dimwitted Customer: What?

Me: Let's try this again. Come back on Monday, the item will still be 30% off, and it will then fall under the Christmas return/exchange policy. 

Dimwitted Customer: I don't have time to do that. Why don't you quit being an asshole about this. I know you can bend the rules on this.

Me: I'm a bit perplexed sir. Not about the whole asshole part, but your lack of time. You're a fucking mall walker. You're in the mall every damn day.

Dimwitted Customer: You can't talk to me like that!

Me: Sorry sir. But yes I can, you opened that door when you told me to stick this up my ass. You then proceeded to walk through that door by calling me an asshole. Right now I could give two shits less if you ever buy anything from us.

Dimwitted Customer: I want to talk to someone in charge here.

Me: Not a problem. See that guy cringing back by the cash register. He's the manager, and excellent at hiding when people like you decide to come in here and be insulting. His one redeeming quality though is he has rabbit ears and has heard this entire conversation.

Dimwitted Customer: We'll see about that. I'm going to have your job.

Me: Good luck with that, sir.

Dimwitted Customer: Fuck you!

Me: Yes sir. He's right there, go talk to him, we're done talking now.

So the guy stomps off to whine to the boss and I start helping another customer. I do take the time to shoot a grin at the boss though as this guy is approaching him. I know he's pissed. But not at me. He's a little nicer than I am with people like this, but doesn't tolerate them either. Our company backs us 100% as well, under these circumstances. The boss just simply would like me to tell a customer like this to leave, and I probably should, but people like this really need to be told they're idiots as far as I'm concerned.

I don't need to be worshipped by any means, but if you want respect, you've got to show some as well.

A few minutes later the guy leaves the store, unhappily. He heard the same thing from the boss, albeit a bit nicer.

We now have a bet on the guy showing up on Monday to buy this gift for the wife. I say he's going to, the boss thinks not. But this douche will and the boss will be the one to benefit. The guy won't buy anything from me of course, so the boss will earn a little commission for himself when the guy does make the purchase.

And how do I know this?

Simple, this guy is truly the asshole in this equation. I've seen him ream the little coffee shop girls in the past when he's walking the mall and demanding they have coffee for him, prior to them even being open, or ready, for business. So as he's doing his laps around the mall and gets to the coffee shop when they're actually open for business he always gets his cup of coffee.

It's probably a damn good thing I don't work there. I'm not saying I'd refuse him a cup of coffee though. He'd probably be wearing one if it were me. Because I'm thoughtful like that, and stuff.

If Only Muslim Extremists Had A Therapist

Catchy title, huh?

I'm sure this post is going to offend some anal retentive type person. Just a word to take note of in the title:

"Extremists"

Anyway, on to my offending way.

You Muslim Extremists, or Islamic Terrorists if you prefer, are really a bunch of dysfunctional dimwits. If your beliefs and actions weren't so damn appalling they'd be laughable. You are the most insecure segment of the human race possibly. No doubt your lack of intelligence and your upbringing has a lot to do with it.

Seriously I can see some reasons why you're so fucked up. Not necessarily to the point of your violent beliefs though. A blind man can see plenty of things that would rob the male species of your culture of any brains and hope for any semblance of a normal life.

One example is the turban, or whatever that thing you wear on your head is actually called. Smothering a brain that is clearly as deficient as yours is never a good idea. Plus you guys seem to wear this on blazing hot days, trudging through the desert, planning your next act of terrorism. I guess no one has told you that hats hold heat in. Your brains have to be fried.

You also dress like a girl. Those robes can't do much for the male psych I'd imagine. Grow a pair of balls and put on some pants. Maybe if you'd quit dressing like a girl you wouldn't have the overwhelming urge to perform violent acts to prove your manhood.

And your intelligence? Simply laughably sad. Who really thinks becoming a suicide bomber is a good career enhancer? You die, killing innocent people, you morons. Who in their right mind straps a bomb to their chest and thinks that's a wise move?

And you know what?

Let me fill you in on a little secret.

There aren't any virgins waiting for you, much less forty of them, when you die. Your inability to get laid on Earth isn't going to make a difference in death. You know, take off the dress, and maybe you would get laid while you're alive and the promise of sex with another corpse, or forty of them, for that matter, wouldn't seem so appealing to you. If you need laid that bad I'll give you a few bucks for a prostitute, or a camel.

Stupid bastards anyway.

The Most Interesting Man In The World Indeed

I'm sure all of you a lot of you a few of you have seen the commercial touting "The Most Interesting Man In The World", at one time or another. He's schilling for some type of beverage I'm pretty sure. Wine or beer is my guess because the actual marketing message is lost to me.

Don't get me wrong, the commercials are somehow compelling to me. But not so far as the product the company is trying to promote. (For all I know the shit he's trying to get you to buy is liquid Ex-Lax.)

You have this old bearded dude generally sitting in a bar booth flanked by two hot young chicks hanging on his every word. That's what fascinates me quite frankly.

I think I could do that, sans the grey beard, and if I wanted to spend the money to get two hot young chicks plastered enough to hang all over me and listen to me spout a couple of pithy comments, thought up by a marketing team.

I think I could pull off being mysterious, interesting, and pithy under those circumstances.

(And, oh yeah, those chicks would have to be really effin drunk too.)

Until I thought about it a little more anyway. Now I'm just a little depressed quite frankly. I possess no mystique, at least locally. I've become embarrassingly mundane and predictable.

I pop into Kwik Trip every day on my way to work to feed my nicotine habit. Until I saw these "Most Interesting Man In The World" commercials I was impressed that I could saunter up to the counter and all I heard was "that'll be $7.28 JPT." They already knew what I wanted, the right brand, and (now) annoyingly, they had the correct change ready for me. (Apparently I always hand over a ten dollar bill.) They had this sale rung up before I could open my mouth. Nothing mystique about this at all.

My kids can approach me with any problem they have in the world. And I'm there for them, ready to do battle, sort out the problem, and steer them in the right direction. But that isn't what they really want. They just want to share the problem. When I open my mouth to offer up my worldly wisdom I get shut down with "We already know what you're going to say dad." Again, my mystique has been lost and beaten into submission.

My boss doesn't even bother to tell me about new policies or work place rules any more. Apparently he knows exactly whether they're rules I'm going to follow, or ignore, ahead of time. He doesn't want to waste his time any more, or possibly mine. The possibility also exists he doesn't want the aggravation of wasting his breath. Whatever the reason, I'm once again far too predictable.

I can't even get the grocery store cashier to ask me "paper or plastic" any more upon checking out. I know they used to though. Now they just throw my shit in plastic bags and take my money. I'm a little conflicted on this one though. When they used to ask I'd get that "deer in the headlights look" and mumble and stammer, and finally ask "Uh, what's the correct answer here?" That may have become a tad tiring to them, but again no mystique involved.

So a few changes are in order here. The mystique which has apparently fled my persona has to be recaptured.

Deciding where to start is a bit perplexing. Do I go all in or just phase in some changes?

I'm inclined to start with the grocery store, mostly because I'm going to have to buy some groceries some time today, or go hungry.

So when "Skippy" the l'il bagger boy starts to throw my crap into plastic bags I'm going to have to bring that to a halt. But going to paper isn't exactly exciting, or mysterious. That just won't do. That guy is going to have to find some burlap bags to make me happy.

Baby steps people, baby steps.

Here, Briefly

The next couple of days are going to encompass much suckage.

Since we're short-handed at work I'll be spending more time there than anywhere else. Blogging is going to take a hit, as well as checking out your blogs.

But there are a couple of things to share with you.

1) My latest acquisition of Diet Coke has cans sporting a winter scene. Why they think this makes anyone happy is beyond me. While I'll still buy the stuff to maintain a proper amount of caffeine in my system it doesn't make me want to buy it due to this design.

2) Worthless Co-Worker update: (Or rather Ex-Worthless Co-Worker)

She had a sister stop in the store yesterday and Worthless Co-Worker has already fled to New Mexico to be with her "spiritual husband." You know the one, the guy who she's never met in person, just through the Internet. Apparently the trip to Israel is still in the works for a Jewish wedding though. That whole family of hers is loony-tune.

Interestingly enough an old guy, who walks the mall, and we refer to as a pervert stopped in the store as well. He misses her, but he doesn't blame her for running off to be with this guy, after all, we were told, she's going to get a Lexus after they're married. He's a moron too.

(Oh, the reason we refer to him as a pervert is two-fold. One being, every time we've hired a girl to work in our store he sneaks around snapping pictures of them on his cell phone. The other is security caught him masturbating at a table in the food court a couple of years ago. That earned him a one year ban, and some legal trouble.)

Ciao, and stuff.

We're Like "When Harry Met Sally"?

Unless you've read the last post this post probably won't make much sense to you.

(Go ahead and read it now, I'll wait for you. There's shit I can do while I'm waiting anyway. I need caffeine, a cigarette, and possibly a piss break as well.

It's a proven fact that a caffeinated and well nicotined "Just Plain Tired" is a much more pleasant person to hang with than one who isn't.

Hanging out with one who hasn't pissed his pants is probably preferred too.)

Anyway.

There's this little dinner fiasco on Sunday night. A dinner fiasco that I wasn't planning on attending until Jackie opened her big mouth. It's hard to be pissed at her because quite frankly her big mouth is one of the things I like about her. I just didn't want to go because I'm not as socially inclined as the hosts of said dinner. Mostly the wife of said dinner fiasco. She's too nice to dislike, but she's exasperating.

So we're going.

But there's weirdness involved. (Yeah, yeah, I know, if I'm involved there's always weirdness involved. Just shut up and keep reading.)

I think I've shown here that my thought process isn't always on target. I have a tendency to over analyze some pretty weird circumstances I've run into and my mind just races from one tangent to the next trying to figure shit out.

The latest thought process involves the perceived threat to my happy singleness. I'm a very much single guy content with life just as it is. It's an uncomplicated and simplistic life that I've fully embraced. It's also one which Jackie has also, or so I thought previously.

There's now an uncomfortable feeling that things are spinning out of control.

Jackie and I are perfect for one another. By that I mean as handy dating material when the need arises. We've known each other for over 5 years now and have bailed each other out countless times when a socially acceptable partner is needed.

We're often referred to as "Harry" and "Sally" by friends and co-workers. Those words have never been uttered by either one of us though. (Until yesterday.) We get to hear how "perfect" we are together, blah, blah, blah... by others, and we just skate around this.

When Jackie decided to prank the boss' wife on Thursday it was funny. It's the type of "funny" that I usually can get on board with.

(And I am on board, even though I'm walking the plank, blindfolded, and about to be shoved into the ocean.)

A phone call yesterday has my mind totally running out of control. It caused me a lest than restful night of sleep, and that's hard to do. All because I'm over analyzing it naturally, or maybe not. I dunno, maybe you people can figure this one out for me. After all, I'm not rocket scientist material.

Jackie: Hey Harry, Sally here.
Me: What?
Jackie: It's a joke, stupid.
Me: Okay, what's up?

Jackie: You have to work Sunday, right?

Me: Yup.

Jackie: Are you taking a change of clothes to work, or going to wear what you wear to work to this dinner party?

Me: I dunno.

Jackie: You need to figure this out, like right now.

Me: Oh, well, I'll probably just go wearing what I'm wearing to work then.

Jackie: How about you not doing that? 

Me: I'm not going to have time to run home and change comes to mind to tell you the truth. You're meeting me at work to head over there, remember?

Jackie: Pack some shit to wear. You can change at work. Their little get-together's are never formal. You in dress pants and me in jeans don't really match up well. I'm not feeling the dressing up thing so we can both look out of place.

Me: That seems like a lot of work to me, they don't care what we look like.

Jackie: Uh, no. You don't care what YOU look like. There's a difference.

Me: If it'll make you happy I'll take a change of clothes.

Jackie: You won't remember. I know you. You're going to blow this off, and tell me you conveniently forgot.

Me: Probably.

Jackie: That's not happening this time. I'll just bring some for you to change into.

Me: Uh, exactly how does that work?

Jackie: Remember that trip you took a couple of years ago to a meeting in Iowa?

Me: Yeah.

Jackie: I've still got a key to your place.

Me: You gave it back, and my plant died by the way. I don't think you watered the damn thing to tell you the truth.
Jackie: Yes I did and no I didn't return the key.

Me: Well shit, you need to do that then.

Jackie: Just shut up. You've got a key to my place anyway.

Me: No I don't.

Jackie: Well not to the place I just bought, but to my old place.

Me: Seriously, I don't have a key to your place, new or old.

Jackie: Yes, you do. I left it on your kitchen counter, with a note telling you I wanted someone I trusted to have a spare key. That's why you never got your key back. I've got your back on this one.

Me: Huh. When did you do this?

Jackie: When I was safe guarding your worldly possessions when you went to Iowa.

Me: Huh.

Jackie: You lost my key?

Me: Um, not technically. I don't remember any of this.
Jackie: You lost my key?

Me: Wait. Hey there's a key on top of the microwave here. I guess it's yours. I don't remember a note though. It isn't mine though, so it has to be yours. I guess I've kind of wondered about it.

Jackie: You've kind of wondered about it?

Me: Well yeah. Keys open shit up so I never tossed it. I thought maybe it was important.

Jackie: You're trying to throw me off track here. I know you remember this. I will be bringing you a change of clothes. You're lucky I have patience with you. You can't function without me honestly.

Me: What does that mean?

Jackie: Just that, I have patience with you.

Me: I function just fine.

Jackie: Yeah, as a totally unaware and clueless male you do. I provide a much needed balance to your life.

Me: Well, yeah, as my best friend that's entirely possible.

Jackie: See, I'm important to you.

Me: I guess so.

Jackie: You guessed right, and I have patience.

Me: Okay then.

Jackie: You are so laughable. You avoid some things like the plague. I'll see you Sunday, with a change of clothes mister.

Me: Okay.

Jackie: Bye.

Me: Uh, bye.

I know she stated I'm both unaware and clueless, but I'm not that clueless, or am I? I mean she's goofy as hell and I love that about her. She speaks whatever comes to her mind without holding back. So it's possible she simply does have the patience to put up with me as only any true best friend would. Or her patience is of a more sinister type. The type of patience that threatens the status quo of friendship.

Fuck, I don't do this type of crap well. Why are women so damn complicated?

I Just Can't Win, Can I?

I get along quite well with my boss. He's not the ideal boss by any means, but he allows me to do my job with little to no interference, and I accept his inadequacies in the supervision department. We had a few rough patches when he first transferred here from another store. He knew that I had turned down the position prior to him coming here and he had some false impressions of me from the start.

He's 12 years younger than I am, and his knowledge of me was all heard second hand from others before arriving here. He had never supervised anyone older than him and it was a problem for him for some reason. I, on other other hand, had plenty of supervisory experience in the steel industry working with a crew of 40 to 50 people of all ages.

His two biggest misconceptions of me involved his position and my independent streak.

He knew I was qualified to fill the position he was coming into and he couldn't understand why I didn't want the position myself. He harbored some weird thought that I was there to undermine him basically. It took months for him to figure out I didn't want his job.

The other issue/misconception he had was that I was hard to supervise. His new boss, who I had known 5 years previously under my boss who was retiring, had told him he should simply leave me alone. He didn't take that the way it was intended though. Instead of hearing I was proficient at my job, he interpreted it as I was a pain in the ass.

When he arrived here he went out of his way to assert he was the boss. It was a mild irritant at times, but for the most part, amusing to me. It's really hard to get me wound up over petty crap. I knew that over time he'd eventually see that he should leave me alone. He did finally, but it was interesting the first few months he was here.

Now that I've worked for him almost four years things are peachy and keen. He's a pretty decent guy.

But.....

(There's always a "but", it's an unspoken and unwritten rule somewhere that a "but" is always involved.)

He has a wife, who pops into the store quite often. The fact that she pops in often isn't the problem though. She's very nice as well.

Too nice, actually.

She fancies herself as a matchmaker. I've been single for a long time. This fact bothers her for some reason. She's got this bubbly personality and, well, I'm not a bubbly type of person, but I'm a relatively happy person, content with my life as it is. So while she's very nice, and well meaning, she's a pain in the ass to me.

(To my boss' credit he knows me pretty well and always tries to divert her away from me as much as possible when her matchmaking persona invades the store. She's hard to thwart though and he ends up apologizing profusely when she leaves the store.)

Both of them are little social butterflies though. They like to throw dinner parties, barbecues, holiday type parties, etc. Invariably they want me to attend many of these. Which is fine because I consider the boss a friend as well. When our schedules permit we've golfed together, he's gone out on the river fishing with me, although I think he just likes getting out on the boat, rather than the actual fishing part.

But these "social events" drive me crazy. It's a no win proposition for me. If I show up without a date, she always has someone there that's "just perfect" for me. Ah, not so much.

If I show up with a date it's a nightmare for the person I cajoled into going with me. They get cornered by her with her grilling them about how long we've been together, how happy we are, how serous is the relationship, blah, blah, blah. She can't accept it's simply a date, with no other strings attached other than a night out. I have a friend we'll call Jackie (primarily because it's her name) who fills in admirably as a date, and I for her when she has the need of one as well. We're simply good friends.

The problem here is that the boss' wife really likes Jackie. Unfortunately that feeling isn't reciprocal though. I haven't asked Jackie in over a year to attend one of these "social events" because of the torture she goes through when she's accompanied me in the past.

Yesterday I was off, and Jackie saw a need to have me around for the day. She had just bought a house and needed to look at appliances, she wanted a snow blower, and some other things she felt a guy's input would be useful on. So we were running around town with me giving her expert advice, as only a guy can pretend to possess, on things a woman wants to hear about, but doesn't normally don't want to think about.

One of our stops was at Best Buy and who do we run into? You guessed it. The dreaded wife of the boss. Had we seen her first we'd have slunk away, but she ambushed snuck up on us. This isn't going to be good I told myself. I think the reason Jackie and I get along so well is we possess the same wacky humor and she's every bit as blunt as I am. She's incredibly quick and sharp tongued around people who are irritating. We'd definitely be considered compatible in that regard.

So a conversation took place that Jackie thoroughly enjoyed, the boss' wife completely bought into, and left me brain damaged, caught off guard, and stammering throughout the ordeal.

Boss' wife: Hey guys!
Us: (almost in unison) Uh, hi.
Boss' wife: (to Jackie) I haven't seen you in a long time. Did (Just Plain Tired) tell you about the dinner we're having Sunday night?
Jackie: No he didn't.
Boss' wife: (to me) Why didn't you tell her about this?
Jackie: Yeah, why didn't you tell me about this?
Me: It must have slipped my mind.
Boss' wife: So you're both coming right?
Me: Um, uh....
Jackie: We certainly are! We'll be all primed for it. You know honey (to me) we'll get an extra hour of sleep and we'll both feel great that night.
Boss' wife: Are you two together finally?
Me: Uh, no, not exactly, we're.....
Jackie: Oh hush up. (to me) It's not a secret any more. We might as well just come out and let the world know.

(At this point I became a zoned out, brain dead, drooling spectator to this verbal massacre.)

Boss' wife: I just knew it! You two are perfect for each other. He never tells me or (the boss) anything.
Jackie: I'm trying to get him to open up more myself. He's such a private person, you know.
Boss' wife: I know! So how long have you two been serious?
Jackie: I've been fucking his brains out every single day for over six months now.
Boss' wife: Oh my gawd! I am so happy for you two. Now I know why he never wants to meet anyone I try to introduce him to. Why didn't you just tell me you two are together? (to me)
Me: I.....
Jackie: Oh hell, you know how he is. He's still a bit hung up on our age difference you know.
Boss' wife: That's a stupid thing. (to me)  You're not that much older than her. You guys make a great couple.
Jackie: I tell him that all the time.
Boss' wife: Does (the boss) know?
Jackie: I doubt it. Wouldn't he tell you if he did?
Boss' wife: He would. (to me) You haven't told (the boss) about this?
Me: Um, no, I guess not. It's still all pretty new to me I guess.
Boss' wife: I can't wait to tell him!
Jackie: So what time is dinner on Sunday?
Boss' wife: We're planning on eating about 7:00 pm, but you two should come earlier so we can visit some more. I've got to run and pick up (her son). I'm running so late today.
Jackie: That's great! We'll see you then.

And off she scampers.

Jackie: Now that was funny!
Me: Jackie..... no.....
Jackie: Just shut up. I did you a tremendous favor here.
Me: No, you....
Jackie: You've been single so long you have no clue how a woman thinks. She's so happy with the thought that you're getting laid... plus.... now you're off the market in her eyes. She's not going to be trying to hook you up with any of her unattached friends.
Me: This.... well.... shit....
Jackie: Trust me on this.
Me: Yeah, but....
Jackie: Just. Shut. Up. This will be fun for awhile. Jesus, get with it! We can pull this off with her for a long time.
Me: Well, you're now on the hook for dinner though.
Jackie: So that means you owe me now.
Me: I. Owe. You?
Jackie: You really have no idea how a woman thinks.
Me: Tell me about it.

So I've had some time to digest all of this. Dismay, quite frankly came first to mind. Utter dismay actually. But I've warmed up to this since the initial shock has worn off, because we can pull this off, and for quite some time. I've processed all the future reactions and have come to this conclusion. The boss' wife is very naive, and very nice. When this little charade unravels she'll be slightly embarrassed, but not actually mad. The boss will be cool about it as well. And for me, no more little miss matchmaker to contend with for the foreseeable future.

Yeah, I'm delusional, aren't I?