Saturday, April 28, 2012

Customer service

I knew I’d started to cross the threshold into adulthood when my dad began enlisting me to do the grown-up job of ordering on my own during meal outings, and dealing with customer support over the telephone (with the punks at Verizon, for example). Now I can appreciate all the practice because I can more confidently navigate conversations with pricky customer service representatives and hold my own.

About two years ago, I’d been ill (from the flu, probably) and home-bound for too many days than I could tolerate and so made my first public appearance in several days at the mall. I could not care less about shopping -- all I wanted was some frozen yogurt at Yogen Fruz. So, I stood in line patiently and salivating for about 10 minutes, and asked for a small regular frozen yogurt, no toppings. When the girl turned around from the frozen-yogurt machine, I saw that she’d dispensed only a skinny, hollow cone of frozen yogurt into my cup. What a cheap-o.

“I’m not getting any toppings, so may I please have some more frozen yogurt?” I inquired? The stingy employee looked at me, dumbfounded. “What?” she asked, at a loss at what to do but obviously not inclined to honor my request. “Then I don’t want it,” I snapped. The girl then looked at me as if to say, “Are you serious?”

I was. So I walked off.

Clearly, a hungry, sickly Jane is not to be reckoned with. But
if I’m paying $6 for plain frozen yogurt without the embellishments, I want, at the very least, decent customer service.

My sister, Amy, says the the bunny up front has my "waiting" face. The bunny towards the back has Tony's "I'm up to no good" face.

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