Posted in Of Psyche

Of Customer Service

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

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:]

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 Bloggingly


Our Cousin Feeling Crapathetic (Courtesy: Pixabay)

First I thought it was a passing phase and out of nowhere, I found myself singing Daniel Powter. Then, a day turned into a few days. On Saturday I called it a “bad week”, as I shed a few embarrassing and uncharacteristic tears in public transport. Today, it’s ten days. Like any bad meteorologist, I hope my prediction is false when I say, “Seems like Hurricane Crapathy will be with us for a fortnight.”

To be honest, I don’t know what crapathy means exactly. I first learnt about it through Continue reading “Crapathy”

Posted in Of Bloggingly

Book Review: A Horse Walks Into A Bar

A Horse Walks Into A Bar Cover

I want to try something new. I’m thinking of calling it Amrita’s ‘Wednesday Words of Wisdom’. These wouldn’t be rehashing some trite motivational quotes. No, Messieurs et Mesdames et Mesdemoiselles. These will be the hard-earned truth, laid brutally on your casual reading plate. Today’s words are: Never ask anybody what they think of you. Continue reading “Book Review: A Horse Walks Into A Bar”

Posted in Of Musicals

Book Review: 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

A Lad Insane: 2016 Edition

You can daydream with music … it takes you away and creates a new world. – Tim Buckley

I’ve always wondered about the word well-read, and by extension what could be called well-watched, or well-listened. How do we exactly cover all bases with these distinct areas of knowledge? Who decides what constitutes being well-listened? Am I well-listened if I can remember note for note all of Beethoven’s symphonies? Or am I well-listened if I say, “Megadeth makes my ears bleed. And I can confirm this because I’ve listened to ALL their albums, and they’ve consistently made me reach for fresh bandages.” Continue reading “Book Review: 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die”

Posted in Of Psyche

Of Dancing

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”