Saturday, August 24, 2013

Bad Customer = Bad Service?

I saw this Huff Post article shared on Facebook this morning that I just had to comment on, because the writer is SPOT ON. Essentially, the writer goes through this bizarre interchange she saw at a burger joint by another customer and has written an op-ed, and here's the part that had me yelling "Amen" from the rooftops:
And that brings us to the possible answer to that query you posed in the midst of your ketchup rant. You asked: "Why can't I ever f*cking get good customer service?" Well, ma'am, that might have something to do with you being a vulgar, miserable, malicious person. Maybe you get bad customer service because you're a bad customer. Did you ever consider that possibility?
It's SO true! As a gal that has worked at two major restaurant chains in her early twenties, I can tell you without question, that the customer is NOT always right.

Just working for those tips!
Like when I worked at Hard Rock and had to walk back to the kitchen with half eaten BBQ chicken that the customer suddenly decided wasn't good so that it could be replaced. Or when I'd spend over an hour laughing and schmoozing with a table of Ladies Who Lunch at the Cheesecake Factory only to be left a paltry 10% tip while they drive off in their Bentleys (which I could always see them retrieving from the valet stand right outside). I've dealt with some iffy folks, but I've only ever been yelled at once, and realistically it wasn't that bad... I wasn't even yelled at when I dropped a caesar salad on a teenager.

And here's one of the hubs, doing that barista thing
But I've been a customer plenty of times and I've seen people like the woman in the article: the ones that think they can yell at the staff because they are the customer; the ones that yell at the Starbucks barista because their drink is too hot or there isn't milk at the condiment stand; the ones that try to use social media to shame an establishment using pictures of their screaming children as bait; the ones that hold up an entire line because there is ketchup on a burger rather than being a grown up and scraping it off like the rest of us. Oh yes, I've seen plenty of those people. The author is totally right, as a server/barista/cashier/postal worker you can see those people a mile away and you know that no matter what you do they are going to throw a stink, so they get the service they deserve - you know, the same way that the nice people get fantastic service.

So go forth and order whatever you'd like, as long as it's not the people behind the counter.

Love and Bacon,

Friday, August 9, 2013

Once, Always

I don't talk about it much, but I am a sorority girl. I have letters and a secret handshake and colors and a flower and cheers and memories full of frat parties, sisterhood outings, big/little nights, semis and formals, late nights in the sorority house and lots of other things I shouldn't share with the Internet.  Being a Phi Sig shaped who I am, starting my first month of college, but I (like many ladies in the PanHellenic system) kind of forgot about how important it was once I graduated from college. That is, until Wednesday morning.

On Wednesday, I was off getting coffee with some coworkers and while we waited in the crowded Starbucks for our liquid energy, one of our newer team members looked at me and said, "love your outfit! Those are my sorority colors: king blue and gold." I literally threw my hands up and was all, "um, what sorority!?!????!!!" When she said Phi Sigma Sigma, I nearly shouted in excitement (and all this before my morning joe). I graduated from GW in 2007, so it's been a really long time since I've met a new Sister. Suddenly I was so filled with pride and excitement that all I wanted to do was chat with her about sorority stuff, thankfully she was equally excited.

As a more senior person at our agency, I don't friend the newer people on FB since I don't want them to feel obligated to add me, but within minutes of getting to my desk I was adding Maura and posting about my excitement. So here I am, 3 days later brimming with pride for the sisterhood that helped me become the woman I am and rocking a Phi Sig themed mani to boot.

Are any of you Greek and found a sister (or brother) in an unexpected place?

Love and Bacon (LITP!),