William Shatner has the staring role in the CBS Comedy Sh*t My Dad Says. I prefer Bill in his previous role on Boston Legal.
The Sh*t My Dad Says is based on a Twitter feed and is now also a book, I have a copy that somehow I won from the author.
As I get older, I realize that my fathers voice, or at least his words are coming out of my mouth now. I still feel like a 35 year old, but that was 15 years ago. There are some generational changes, but somethings never go out of style, like customer service, manners, competency, etc.
Randy Clark of TKOGraphix wrote about these things recently on his company blog. If you recognize any of these things going on at your place of business, please stop and train or re-train, or replace those who are responsible for dealing with your customers.
Here's Randy:
Every Sunday, I take dad to the grocery store. On the way, we stop by a
big-box hardware store to pick up two 5-gallon jugs of water. The emptied returned jugs are supposed to be processed through a shoot, into a bin, followed by a return receipt. This is only in theory. Dad and I have done this for over a year, and have never received a receipt. Dad usually waits patiently in the car for my return with the water and the day’s water story. It is almost always a challenge, but today …was …special. I got in line with an empty cart. The water, which weighs 40 lb., was by the door on the way out. I waited patiently for my turn. When it was my turn, I politely said:
Me “I returned two empties, and I’d like two 5-gallon waters, please.”
First Cashier “There’s nothing in your cart.”
Me “Yes, I know; I returned two empties, and I’d like two 5-gallon waters, please.”
First Cashier “They’re over there.” (She points)
Me “Thank you, I know, I’d like two of them, please.” The cashier didn’t say anything. She simply pointed.
Me “Can you ring me up, and I’ll pick them up on my way out, please?”
First Cashier “No, I have to scan them.”
So you know, in over a year of my coming to this business, no one at the big-box has ever scanned the water. They have charged me the wrong price, not credited my returns, called management to ask for help — but they have never asked to scan the 40 lb., 5-gallon water jugs, because they have one of those little scanner card thingies, like when you buy water-softener salt.
Me “I think you have one of those little scanner card thingies you can scan for the water.”
First Cashier “No… no I don’t, no little scanner card thingy here. You have to bring the water here so I can scan it.”
Me “Okay.”
So I go lug the jugs — it’s only 15-20 feet, not worth arguing. The cashier did not wait the 18 seconds it took me to get the water and bring it back. She had taken the next customer. Several more customers were waiting in line. They looked at me like I was an interloper, a line cutter. The only other open line was shorter. I went to the other line; it only had three customers in front of me. When it was my turn, I politely repeated.
Me “I returned two empties I’d like credited towards these two 5-gallon waters, please.”
Second Cashier “You want to return these? I can’t take water back!”
Me “No… I do not want to return these. I returned two empties and I’d like to buy these two (I point) 5-gallon waters, please.”
Second Cashier “Okay, you know you don’t have to get the jugs and bring them here, because we can scan them from this little scanner card thingy?”
Me “Thank you, I’ll try to remember.”
Gum-Chomping, Speed-Texting, Teenage Cashier
I do have a point — besides the one atop my head — and it’s a question. Is it me, or has customer service become an afterthought? Is my view skewed because I am, well, old, and fondly remember being greeted, waited on with a smile, and treated as if there was nothing more important than my patronage? Don’t get me wrong — I’m not “that” grumpy, old hermit, who believes there are no friendly people remaining on this planet. That’s my dad’s job. However, poor service happens enough to make me wonder: in this economy, aren’t there niches available for service, or do we accept the gum-chomping, speed-texting, teenage cashier, who ignores us when we ask, “what aisle is the cat food on?”
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