Posted in Of Psyche

Of Customer Service

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Shop (Courtesy: Pixabay)

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a tyrant. This might have something to do with my recently binge-watching The White Queen, a TV show based on the War of the Roses, and particularly sympathising with the notoriously sympathetic King Richard The Third. But, you know, I just wonder sometimes what it would be like if people had to do whatever I told them to do. And I could do to them whatever I wanted to.

I cultivate being nice, in the particular sense of being externally nice, i.e. well-mannered. Doing it internally, truthfully, is a much more complicated affair, usually reserved for close relationships. For our brief interactions, visitations, a brush of solidarity or mutually beneficial exchange, behaviour is based purely on civility. And considering such one-on-one exchanges are the foundation of what has made businesses run from time immemorial, irrespective of number-crunching and strategising, you’d think it would be ingrained in any service person’s brain that Customer is, indeed, King. And not to be treated cruelly like the afore-mentioned King Richard.

I didn’t feel like that today. Sunday morning, I had a minuscule errand to run. I am made to wait for nearly half an hour at a little shop. I am confused, for I’ve been there a few times before, and the owner/lone service person had never blatantly ignored me, especially when I’m standing right in front of him, and requesting the sole item I wanted a few times when I thought it was my turn. But, he kept serving those who came after me, and not me. Finally, a woman who turned out to be an additional service person and not a customer as I had assumed, asked me what I wanted. I was a bit angry and confused, and so I pointed out that I’d been standing there not being served when it had been my turn for a while. This is what the owner replied,

Why will I serve you? If you were a daily customer, then I would serve you if it was your turn. But, I’ve seen you in other shops. Of course, I will serve those who came after you, even if they don’t buy anything at all.

It’s one thing being irritated. I was completely stunned. All I could mumble in reply was, “If you talk like that, I wouldn’t want to come to your shop anyway.” I regret still having bought the item I wanted. I could consider the situation if I had been on friendly terms with the owner, if I had been going to his shop for years. But, that’s not the case here. This is by no means the first time I’ve had bad service, but it is the first time when I’ve been personally, verbally attacked like this. And because I cannot suggest any corrections to this person’s behaviour (considering I will never go to his shop again), I have to think of what I can do to not let someone talk to me like that in the future. Considering, I did nothing wrong.

Now, I know I suffer from The Doormat Syndrome. I unconsciously let people take me for granted, and sometimes get manipulated or taken advantage of. Those are extreme positions, but I also am quite frequently subject to things people may feel, but in polite society wouldn’t speak out, on account of trying not to be hurtful towards the other person. More than being hurt, I am bewildered by such comments, because I am amazed at how they could say something like that, without it being just some good-natured ribbing. No, it is meant. I feel I am to blame, because I open myself to it. I am a people-pleaser. I’d bring the moon to you if you asked me to, and you might be just somebody who’s recently moved into my neighbourhood, and I am not even sexually attracted to you. Yeah, I am a f***ing saint.

This is also surprising, because my demeanour is not always inviting. In fact, I’ve often been told I’m intimidating, especially because of my grumpiness and my voice. My voice is like a Disney villain’s voice, so by no means should it attract rude behaviour. I would have thought service would come easily because of it, but perhaps I overcompensate for it. Just yesterday I let someone cut me in line at a store. The man told me his stuff had already been billed, he only had to pay. I knew this was a lie, for this store would never bill you if you could not shell out the moolah then and there, but I’d had a good shopping experience so far, and didn’t want to spoil it by arguing with him. The point is, I spent the rest of today going over how I deal with people on a daily basis, people who provide me with service. And, I want to assure myself that I should get good marks on this subject, and that that man’s comments were unwarranted.

But, that’s the thing, you see. That’s why I told you a while back not to ask anyone what they think of you. Don’t even ask yourself, what you think of you. Don’t go down that road, it only brings you grief. Because, what if I am not a good customer? What if, I am not deserving of my ‘Customer is King’ title? “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” as wrote The Bard, and maybe the powers we have as customers is not as easy as we take them to be.

Have you faced bad behaviour as a customer? How do you deal with people being rude to you in such situations?

Posted in Of Psyche

Of Appetite

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Cake is the language of love. – Dylan Moran

Appetite, noun

1. a desire for food or drink.

2. a desire to satisfy any bodily need or craving.

3. a desire or liking for something; fondness; taste. [Courtesy: Dictionary.com]

Wouldn’t it be a relief, a release, however incredible the situation? You keep desiring to be rid of so many desires, because modern wisdom has convinced you that all want is evil, unless it is painfully got, and can only be justified by further suffering. That you must suffer for your health, for your happiness, because all other easy pleasures lead to more or a different kind of suffering. Ultimately, modern life is a choice between the good kind of suffering, and the bad kind of suffering. And no one knows for sure which is which. Continue reading “Of Appetite”

Posted in Of Psyche

Of Dancing

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Shakira, Shakira

Dance like no one’s watching. – Undetermined Wise Person

I was at a wedding recently. It was an extremely dull affair, no dancing, no nothing. My cousins and I got so bored, we escaped to find a room (next to the caterers no less) and decided to dance. Except, they were too shy, while I was off. One of them asked, “Where did you learn to belly dance?” I was so lost in it all that I didn’t even hesitate to answer truthfully, “Shakira, Shakira!” Continue reading “Of Dancing”

Posted in Of Psyche

Of If I Was A Boy

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Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan in ‘I’m Not There’ (2007)

It’s not my fault, that I’m not a boy. – Book of Love, “Boy”

I actually have some experience with this. I played Prince Charming at age ten in the first play I ever did. There were a couple of reasons for this. It was an all-kids endeavour, and there wasn’t a greater theatre enthusiast around. Which meant I adapted The Brothers Grimm’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, directed it, made all the props and had little time to actually act. Also, I happened to be the tallest, which was a general, peer-based fact at the time and not the consequence of having a curious number of short girls in the group. And thus began the first of many forays into imagining the male experience in a made-up world, through many plays in years to come, even if the women who played my love interests kept getting taller than me. So what if I stopped growing and started to look like a woman just two years after being Prince Charming? Continue reading “Of If I Was A Boy”

Posted in Of Psyche

Of The Comfort of Strangers

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An Opportunity (Courtesy: Pixabay)

Every stranger is an opportunity to redeem yourself. – Me, at various times in my blogging career.

I was going through singing apps today. Had some spare time after an insanely busy few weeks, and so I idled away with karaoke. Recorded a terrible rendition of “Inbetween Days” by The Cure, and not an altogether tragic version of “Wuthering Heights” by Kate Bush on the Smule app. But, I wasn’t as free and happy as on the other times I do karaoke. For I always sing by myself, for myself, because I am quite terrible at it, but this app was just too clever and social for me. I couldn’t sing with full abandon, because it kept recording my face and asking me to share my recording with the world. Why would I want to do that? Why would anybody want to do that? Continue reading “Of The Comfort of Strangers”