On customer service
Jan. 25th, 2008 09:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
debgeislerThirty years ago and more, I worked in a retail store part time. It was a fascinating experience in retrospect (although at the time, it was painful as hell).
I was hired by our local Sears to work as a sales person in the hardware and electrical departments. Sears provided training on cash register procedures and time card punching and that sort of thing, and then told me and the rest of the newbies to go forth and sell.
My first day of work was on the Sunday before Father's Day, 1975. In the hardware department. At Sears. You get the picture. The department manager was an old friend of my dad's (dad had been the manager of the store some years earlier), and he saw that I was completely freaked. He and the woman who managed electrical parked me at a cash register and told me to ring sales, since I knew nothing about the department (and knew only the basics of tool use).
My second day of work, I found out how bad being a nameless drone in retail could be. A man came in, I greeted him with a smile, and he spent five minutes screaming at me about how horrible we were and how substandard our merchandise was and on and on. Then he stomped off in a huff, before I could even offer to exchange the merchandise for him.
Ten minutes later, another man came in with a broken ratchet. He was pleasant, said he was sorry to bother me, but that the ratchet had broken, and could I help? Of course I could. Any hand tool bought in my department that said "Craftsman" on it would be replaced without charge if it was broken. He understood that the "nameless retail drones" are *people* and should be treated with courtesy and respect. I've tried to do that all my life.
Fast forward to con running.
When you run conventions as a volunteer, you get paid in the coin of human respect and appreciation. Your paycheck is a smile and a thank you, your bonus is that rare (and so, more valuable) "gosh! wow!" The people like the man with the broken ratchet, who (1) understand that you are a person and (2) assume that you *will* try to help them if you can, are the ones who sign your checks. And, of course, those are the ones we go out of our way to help.
We wouldn't work in convention running if it weren't for those people.
Then there are the other ones. These are the angry souls who write to a convention's email address and lash out -- because, of course, the con runners who are reading their vituperative mail are not real *people*...they are nameless, faceless, and so can be abused easily. They pay no attention to the tone of their message, because the recipient doesn't count, only their anger or annoyance counts. And, of course, those are *not* the ones we go out of our way to help.
It seems to me that the former are those who assume we are all part of the same community -- we're just friends who haven't met, yet. And the latter are those who assume that anyone working on a convention must bow to them because they've heard that old saw about "the customer's always right." They're the customer; we must do their bidding.
The first time you hear a convention member say to you, "I'll have your job for this!" it upsets. Then you find it funny. But if you've got a smart mouth and have been nibbled at by mice just a bit too long, you might say, "Not unless you have a Ph.D. in Communication, you won't get my job." (BTW...the one time that happened, the woman broke off in mid-rant, apologized for being a pain in the ass, asked if I knew where she could get some Advil, and then asked, plaintively, "Do you really have to have a Ph.D. to work here?" "Well, no...but this isn't what I get paid to do, either.")
So, on behalf of the convention runners who you're nice to, please accept my deep thanks for the "pay checks" you "write" to us. You more than make up for the meanies, you know.
I was hired by our local Sears to work as a sales person in the hardware and electrical departments. Sears provided training on cash register procedures and time card punching and that sort of thing, and then told me and the rest of the newbies to go forth and sell.
My first day of work was on the Sunday before Father's Day, 1975. In the hardware department. At Sears. You get the picture. The department manager was an old friend of my dad's (dad had been the manager of the store some years earlier), and he saw that I was completely freaked. He and the woman who managed electrical parked me at a cash register and told me to ring sales, since I knew nothing about the department (and knew only the basics of tool use).
My second day of work, I found out how bad being a nameless drone in retail could be. A man came in, I greeted him with a smile, and he spent five minutes screaming at me about how horrible we were and how substandard our merchandise was and on and on. Then he stomped off in a huff, before I could even offer to exchange the merchandise for him.
Ten minutes later, another man came in with a broken ratchet. He was pleasant, said he was sorry to bother me, but that the ratchet had broken, and could I help? Of course I could. Any hand tool bought in my department that said "Craftsman" on it would be replaced without charge if it was broken. He understood that the "nameless retail drones" are *people* and should be treated with courtesy and respect. I've tried to do that all my life.
Fast forward to con running.
When you run conventions as a volunteer, you get paid in the coin of human respect and appreciation. Your paycheck is a smile and a thank you, your bonus is that rare (and so, more valuable) "gosh! wow!" The people like the man with the broken ratchet, who (1) understand that you are a person and (2) assume that you *will* try to help them if you can, are the ones who sign your checks. And, of course, those are the ones we go out of our way to help.
We wouldn't work in convention running if it weren't for those people.
Then there are the other ones. These are the angry souls who write to a convention's email address and lash out -- because, of course, the con runners who are reading their vituperative mail are not real *people*...they are nameless, faceless, and so can be abused easily. They pay no attention to the tone of their message, because the recipient doesn't count, only their anger or annoyance counts. And, of course, those are *not* the ones we go out of our way to help.
It seems to me that the former are those who assume we are all part of the same community -- we're just friends who haven't met, yet. And the latter are those who assume that anyone working on a convention must bow to them because they've heard that old saw about "the customer's always right." They're the customer; we must do their bidding.
The first time you hear a convention member say to you, "I'll have your job for this!" it upsets. Then you find it funny. But if you've got a smart mouth and have been nibbled at by mice just a bit too long, you might say, "Not unless you have a Ph.D. in Communication, you won't get my job." (BTW...the one time that happened, the woman broke off in mid-rant, apologized for being a pain in the ass, asked if I knew where she could get some Advil, and then asked, plaintively, "Do you really have to have a Ph.D. to work here?" "Well, no...but this isn't what I get paid to do, either.")
So, on behalf of the convention runners who you're nice to, please accept my deep thanks for the "pay checks" you "write" to us. You more than make up for the meanies, you know.