It's been one of "those" weeks. One of "those" weeks involves an inordinate amount of interaction with our local friendly service providers; usually something I try to avoid save for a pleasant smile at the checkout.
I blame Christmas, personally, and all the needy people in my life who selfishly demand the dangerous combination of good presents and my time over the festive period. This involves my having to order a load of presenty-stuff online (I don't do "normal" Christmas shopping after a particularly horrendous and traumatic trip to Lakeside about three days before Christmas a few years ago) and it also involves my having to call various restaurants and book tables for dinner.
And when I'm forced to do those things, this is what tends to happen...
Encounter One: Customer Service Rep at UPS Courier Services
Me: Oh, hello. I just popped out for five minutes and I saw one of your drivers called round. They literally only left the card a few minutes ago so I wondered if it might be possible for you to get in touch with them and let them know I'm home now, and will be all day?
Him: (after a few long seconds' silence, gruff mumble) No. S'not possible.
Me: (after waiting a few moments to maybe be asked for details, or if I'd like to rearrange delivery or something generally helpful like that) Oh. OK, then. 'Bye.
Encounter Two: Cashier at WHSmith
Me: Hi. As I came in I set your security alarm off by the doors. I just wanted you to know I haven't stolen anything! - do you need to check my bag before I go?
Her: (stares half-blankly, half-scared at me as though I'd just spoken to her in Chinese).
Me: (starting to feel a bit stupid because I'm getting no response at all) ...you know, because I don't want to get chased by your security guard on the way out!
Her: (staccato monotone) You won't.
Me: OK, then. Thanks for your help (I was - but you'll be pleased to hear it was all fine in the end).
Encounter Three: Local restaurant
Me: Hi, I was just wondering if you had a table for four next Saturday, for about seven-thirty?
Him: (flatly) No, we're booked.
Me: Have you got any other times available for that evening?
Him: (just as flatly) I don't know.
Me: Would it be possible to check?
Him: (sighs) I know we haven't got anything after five o'clock. I don't have to check that. OK?
Me: Right. Thanks anyway.
I ended each of these encounters wondering two things: one; why am I so stupid and meek in not taking to task (even slightly) these people who speak to me like a squelchy decapitated earwig they've just found in their apple turnover, and two: why is genuine, common-sense and just plain nice customer service so rare? It's not as though I don't ask nicely.
Of course, as we get closer to Christmas and the "season of goodwill" works its magic I suspect those three and countless others like them will be transformed into paragons of helpfulness; their rosy red cheeks gleaming with festive cheer. But blink and you'll miss it...it's like Santa Claus in that it only happens once a year and only the seriously naive believe it even exists in the first place.
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