My Remarkable Customer Service
I am very good at my job. I work in a supermarket Seafood Department. I'm smart, I know what I'm doing and talking about. I clean constantly, I have a mind for sales. My manager says the only thing keeping me from being a manager myself is my lackluster customer service. RCS (Remarkable Customer Service) has never been my strong suit because, well, I hate people...but I put forth an effort, I'm friendly, I never backtalk, argue, or say anything bad to a customer (no matter how rude and/or dumb they are). So why do I get so many customer complaints?
here is exhibit A, for your consideration.
An elderly black woman, no more than 4 feet tall approaches my counter unnoticed by me while I wash dishes at the other end of my department. I glance over regularly to check for customers and see no one. Apparently I look "right at her" and do not offer assistance.
The woman flags me down with a wave and a disgruntled shout. I finally notice her, shoulders below my case, head obscured by the large scale on my counter. I approach the woman and apologize to her and ask what she would like.
I am bitched out for "purposefully ignoring" her.
I calmly explain that I simply hadn't seen her from across the department, that I am sorry, and that I could assist her now.
"I know you saw the color of my skin so I know you saw me," she says to me, with a head swiveling sass.
I am left there, unsure of how to defuse the situation that does not include disagreeing with the customer, or arguing, two things I am not allowed to do and would get in trouble for.
I apologize again, insisting that I had simply been too far away to properly see over my counter and that I can get her what she needs.
Apparently all she needs is a manager.
I get another customer complaint, and the manager sides with the customer because of the number of complaints I get "it must be [me] and not the customer"
exhibit B.
A black woman approaches my case and slams her had down on it a few times loudly. Unnecessary and rude, but I smile and ask her what she would like.
"three dalla' of catfish nugget." she demands.
"one pound of catfish nuggets?" I repeat to verify her order.
"no, just three dalla'," she snaps.
Catfish nuggets are $2.99 a pound, but I don't point this out or argue with the woman. I just nod and get her a pound of catfish.
"lemme see dat," she demands, slapping my counter again. I show her the bag. "well I need more dan dat!" she grunts and head swivels.
I comply with her without a word and give her another half pound or so and read her the price, $5.77.
"I said I wan'ed three dalla' werf!" she growls.
I don't know what to say to her that isn't in disagreement with her, or to make an argument. She snatches the wrapped catfish from my hands and storms off to complain to the managers about the "poor service" in Seafood. Again, it's apparently me and not the customer.
Some days I really hate my job.
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