Three Things You Must Know if You Work in Customer Service
Customer Service jobs suck.
Let’s face it, no one loves working in customer service (unless you are the Saint of Self-Flagellation). Whether you work in a call center helping clients fix their Internet connections or you sit at the front desk of a busy hotel, there is always some sort of emergency. There are travelers on holiday, grandmas with new tech gadgets, and self-important twats whose peanut free pillowcases and bottles of gluten free organic lava rock water were not sitting at a 90-degree angle on the hotel dresser, as clearly specified on Expedia.com when the room was booked three hours ago. On the receiving end of confused grannies and arrogant dickholes is you, the overworked and underpaid employee who is just trying to get home to their pug, Nancy, and some Totino’s Pizza Rolls. Here are three things that will help you breathe through the seething anger and make it out the door at the end of your shift without being arrested for assault on an asshat.
That’s My Mom!
Okay, so it’s not my mom, and it’s not your mom. But it is somebody’s mom, or dad, or grandma, or great aunt twice removed. Sometimes, in all of our frustration, it’s hard to remember that we’re all human. We’re all deserving of kindness, patience, and love. It might not feel that way when the I-want-to-speak-to-a-manager haircut queen is demanding that you double her 5% off coupon, and it will most certainly try your patience when Joe Blow requests his money back because he “never voted for Obama!” (It happens!) So when you’re having a day that culminates in one of these scenarios, and deep breathing exercises aren’t working any sort of refocusing magic, use my sneaky little trick instead. I pretend that the person I am talking to is my mom (or grandma, uncle, or whoever fits the bill.)
For some reason, when I see little old ladies working the window at McDonald’s, or an old man working a broom and dustpan at Walmart, I ask myself “Why aren’t their children helping to support them! They should be retired in Florida with rescue cats and year-round sandals!” I always make sure to be extra kind, offer a smile, and I walk away a little sadder because it would hurt me to know that my Nana or Pop-Pop had to make ends meet by working menial jobs into their 70s. When you can sense that you are getting irritated with someone you’re trying to help, just remember that crotchety old man who is cursing you up one side and down another is someone’s tired, weary Pop-Pop who is just trying to get to Florida where he can chill with some felines and flip flops.
We Don’t Know What We Don’t Know.
I remember a time when my mom drove through Taco Bell for dinner one evening. When she got home and opened the bag, she felt personally slighted at the amount of extra guacamole she received. Before she even bit into her burrito, she was on the phone with a poor minimum wage food service high-schooler who had to calmly explain to my exasperated mother that extra means “Two scoops of the scooper.”
My mom then yelled “Well then your fucking scooper is broken!” Now, you might be thinking “wow, what a bitch” and frankly, I would too, had I read this situation out of context.
But here is the context: My mom is sweet and soft-spoken, has never sent back anything at a restaurant, and cannot even haggle at garage sales. That day, however, someone had pulled a hit-and-run on her car, making her late to work, making her late for a very important meeting, making her look like a fool in front of her boss. You get my point. You have no idea what this person, or any person is going through at that moment. Think back to a time when you were having a particularly shit day and you took it out on someone who didn’t deserve it. We’ve all done it. A dash of empathy goes a long way.
It’s Nothing Personal.
The dipshit who just asked if you worked on commission (what is this, Pretty Woman?) doesn’t really give a shit about you. Yes, that is obvious, but what I mean is that you are not as important as you think you are. It’s important to understand to make it out of the customer service industry alive. The shitbag who just made you feel microscopic is going to disengage, and they are not going to think twice about it, or about you. You have to do the same. It would be superbly unfair if you went home, ate an entire sheet cake, and then called your ex crying. We’ve all been there. No bueno. Channel some of that shitbag’s selfishness and let it go. Wave it away. Sweep it right out of your brain before you even leave work.
It’s not about you. It’s never about you. Don’t give one more thought to Cunty Mcfuckface.
Bonus tip! Make up completely vile names for your “favorite” customers (in your head, of course) to defuse any residual emotion you may be feeling. Pissbag Fartpants. Professor Barftwat. Give it a try!
Customer service is hard, and it’s unfair, and it is the most stressful job you will ever have. The entire human race should be saluting all of our do-gooders in tech support, reception, and the servers at every restaurant in the world. You are a rockstar, because no yellow-belly chicken shit running around with his tail between his legs could ever do this job. The person giving you a hard time could never do your job. Now sit up straight, shoulders back, and know that you are the bigger, better, brighter person than the lady (aka Miss Crusty Cooter) screaming at you about the price of stamps.