When (H)anger Strikes

Some evenings were better than others during our time without a kitchen. Eating out was nice, but running errands to pick up food right after work, never helped our joint, lack of patience. Okay, sure, it was mostly my impatient, overly-critical-customer-service brain that got the best of me while we waited for chicken wings that were at least thirty minutes past due. “Why do they tell everyone fifteen to twenty minutes, when they know damned well that they’re execution time is more around thirty minutes to forty-five minutes?” I couldn’t help the fact that working in customer service for almost twelve full years had sculpted my expectations to at least look for basic common courtesy when I decided to spend my coins at an establishment.

S is possessed by  a more calm and passive spirit when it comes to anything that involves making a wave. “You know, when you bitch and complain about the wings not being ready, it’s not going to speed anything up. It brings me down when you go on like this.” Crickets. Maybe I should just be a secret shopper, then, because if no one says anything, nothing will improve.  Am I right? I’m never looking to complain. If you’ve ever worked in any form of customer service, you learn to appreciate the people that work in the industry. Those are not easy jobs! So the last thing I would want to do is go out of my way to get upset. If a business has a pattern, and consistently delivers bad customer service, that’s a whole other story. Most of the time – if I’ve noticed a pattern, or keep running into bad service – I will just stop going to the business. It’s as simple as that, right? If you can’t provide decent customer service, you just won’t get any of my money from here on out. That’s always been my mindset. Ninety-five percent of the time, I’m not going to call and complain, or fill out any surveys. I really don’t have the time.

“If I had a choice, and a kitchen that was fully functional, I would just stop coming here. And from now on, I won’t say anything. I’ll keep to myself, and hope we don’t get royally fucked in some form.” That was the end of that discussion. I don’t mean to be sour, and I don’t think one complaint whenever service isn’t the greatest, is a bad thing. What would it say about me if I were expecting bad service, and still continued to frequent the establishment after numerous letdowns? I’ll keep that answer to myself, as I suspect you’ve all learned me by now, and know that I don’t put with any nonsense. Experiencing customer service, anywhere, will always be just that: an experience. Whether S likes it or not, my overly-critical-customer-service mind will always ensure we have a positive experience.