The Love of Your Life

Anyone that has ever worked in customer service has experienced this shaky hands, sweaty palms and tongue-tied phenomenon, when a certain customer comes in. You could be the best at your job but this certain being turns you into a full-fledged rookie with half a brain.

                                                 

You know what time they come in because it’s your new favourite time of the day. You know their order because it’s practically the same as yours, which has to be some kind of sign right! You’ve even named them so your coworkers can alert you if they come in unexpectedly. Of course this person is incredibly kind which makes them even more attractive.

You start playing the background story game with your coworkers because well why not!

“Well he grew up on a farm which grounded him and encouraged him to study hard. He graduated from a top university at the top of his class. He listens to classic rock but his guilty pleasure is Nickelback. His mother is a beloved teacher and his father is a paediatrician working to cure leukemia. He has a younger sister that he is like a second father to. He wants 2 kids and as many animals as possible and he’s waiting for the perfect time to ask me to marry him.”

                                      

Years later when you’ve moved on and your life looks dramatically different you’ll look back and laugh at how ridiculous you were… then secretly hate the person the Love of Your Life customer is probably with!

There Are Some Who Just Don't Get It!

Life is frustrating. There are a lot of things out there you’d love to change but can’t because you simply don’t have the power! Well guess what neither does that 15-year-old trainee someone’s yelling at. 

Some days you have to question a person’s intelligence when they’re screaming at someone wearing a name tag that clearly does not say manager, supervisor or CEO. People can yell and scream all they want but all they’ll get out of it is maybe some tears and a reputation for being a shithead.

Whispers will fill the air as you and your coworkers alert each other to the shithead’s presence and an epic battle will ensue over who gets to serve them.

These people like to complain about everything. The coffee isn’t full enough, the coffee is too full and it spilled on them, why don’t you put fill to lines on the cups? The coffee’s too hot why don’t you automatically double cup even though you’re not allowed to do that unless asked to. Why are you charging for a large tea even though the customer asked for a medium tea in a large cup? Why do you keep raising prices? Why do you? Why do you? Why do YOU? Well shithead when I get the decision-making salary from the company I’ll let you know!

Illustrations by Ally Mac @ http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

The Seniors Bus

It’s no secret that senior citizens like bus tours and good for them for still being interested in doing stuff! The thing is people of a certain age tend to like the same things. 

Kids go for chocolate and things covered in sugar.

Adults try and be healthy opting for things with fruit and vegetables and senior citizens like bran and raisins, combine them and you’ve got a super popular product that will fly off the shelf when a bus of 35 75-year-olds pulls in.

When you see a bus drive in you sound the alarm to alert the troops it’s all hands on deck time. The seniors will slowly make their way inside and line up in front of the cash register closest to the door. Then they’ll take their turn ordering one small coffee and a raisin bran muffin.

Here’s the problem with 35 people ordering the same kind of muffin at the same time… you’ve only got about 8 raisin bran muffins baked at that moment. While most sigh and order an oatmeal raisin cookie instead, a few will grumble about how ridiculous it is that there aren’t enough muffins and that back in their day they could always get a raisin bran muffin. You manage to hold back from joking, that “Sure they could but they’d have to walk 10 miles through 4 feet of snow to get to one!” and instead you smile and sympathetically offer them an oatmeal raisin cookie, which of course they take.

 Illustrations by Ally Mac @ http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

Why Name Tags Suck!

Perhaps one of the worst parts about working in customer service is that you will probably have to wear a nametag. This allows perfect strangers to assume in their own creepy way that they know you, which they don’t. It would be different if people were named in a way that informed something to the world about them. For example… Likes Music Smith or Swims Frequently Kim. You would be able to conclude that Likes Music Smith likes music and Swims Frequently Kim probably swims a lot. But our names say nothing about our personalities or who we are so it’s disturbing when people throw your name in somewhere it doesn’t need to be. There is no need for a stranger to say, thank-you Megan, how are you Megan, hi Megan etc. You’re the only one serving them it’s painfully obvious they’re speaking to you. There is just no reason to use the name, it’s not like if they said hi you’d be thinking, “Who the hell is he talking to?”

Ok so it’s not so bad once in a while and only when it is used once with a normal tone and no creepy face or hand gestures. But when someone uses your name so frequently that it starts making you physically ill you’ve got yourself a problem.



“How are you today Megan?”


“Good and you?”

“Oh Megan, I’m just great! So Megan today I’d like a large coffee and Megan could you stick a couple of sugars in there for me!”

“No problem.”

“Thanks Megan! How much do I owe you Megan?”

“$1.40”

“Here you go Megan! Megan you have a great day! See you tomorrow Megan!”

Fuck off creep bag.

It’s the “See you tomorrow Megan!” that should worry you most. They are implying that they’ll be back tomorrow Megan! Megan aren’t you excited? Oh Megan you should be!

*Illustrations by Ally Mac @ http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

Perhaps one of the worst parts about working in customer service is that you will probably have to wear a nametag. This allows perfect strangers to assume in their own creepy way that they know you, which they don’t. It would be different if people were named in a way that informed something to the world about them. For example… Likes Music Smith or Swims Frequently Kim. You would be able to conclude that Likes Music Smith likes music and Swims Frequently Kim probably swims a lot. But our names say nothing about our personalities or who we are so it’s disturbing when people throw your name in somewhere it doesn’t need to be. There is no need for a stranger to say, thank-you Megan, how are you Megan, hi Megan etc. You’re the only one serving them it’s painfully obvious they’re speaking to you. There is just no reason to use the name, it’s not like if they said hi you’d be thinking, “Who the hell is he talking to?”

Ok so it’s not so bad once in a while and only when it is used once with a normal tone and no creepy face or hand gestures. But when someone uses your name so frequently that it starts making you physically ill you’ve got yourself a problem.

“How are you today Megan?”

“Good and you?”

OH NO! It's Raining, Guy

Sometimes it does this thing where the sky sweats, you know… it rains. 

Of course you do and you know that all it is, is water and if it gets on you it’s ok because it’ll dry up and there won’t be a single trace that it was ever there. Well… did you know there are people out there that act like rain is tiny droplets of lava pouring down to singe their exposed arm and destroy the interior of their car. And no not people who actually have a medical phobia of rain!

When this kind of customer comes through you have to be ready for the ultimate in stupidity. They give their identities away at the order box as you have to strain to hear them over the car engine and delicate pitter-patter of raindrops because they’re practically talking through the car window.

When they drive up they crack their window enough to get a couple fingers with coins out. You will have to sacrifice your dry arm to keep business going. Now here comes the best of the tricky parts. How does one get a large cup through a 2-inch crack?

Step 1 – remove lid (careful it’s still raining!)

Step 2 – dump out the coffee

Step 3 – flatten cardboard cup

Step 4 – pull the flat cup into the car carefully as some leftover coffee may drip and stain something in your car and then you’ll need to clean it with something that has the same properties as rain.

Step 5 – drive away you don’t deserve coffee

*Illustrations by Ally Mac @ http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

           

I’m far too pretentious for a boring old coffee do you have something that sounds exotic and impossible to spell on your menu, person

Thanks to Starbucks and other “fancy” coffee chains that charge $6 for a coffee with steamed milk everyone assumes anywhere that sells coffee makes such drinks. Well not everywhere does. Sometimes cappuccino is made using powder and that cold Frappuccino-like drink is nothing more than a sweet java syrup mixed with a bucket of water.

That’s why it’s no surprise you’ll encounter Fancy Pants Mochafrappresso person. They ask for specialty drinks everyday as if asking yesterday sparked a corporate idea that people may want to spend $6 every morning for something that looks, tastes and smells like the normal stuff but bears the description “A robust nutty flavour straight out of Africa, picked by silver backed gorilla’s, fair trade blend.” when they can get the same thing minus the gorilla’s for $1.40.

You may suggest adding a flavour shot to spice up their boring old coffee but no you don’t have the means to steam milk, which “attracted” you to the job and you don’t have non-fat skim vanilla sugarless soy almond milk. You may even want to recommend that they go buy a carton for themselves and add it to a black coffee and hey, you’ll even throw in a stir stick!




*Illustrations by Ally Mac @ http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

The "I’m too lazy to come in can you read me your menu" lady

Usually the high maintenance customers come through when you’ve got 4 staff already running around trying to get through the never-ending line of cars. You can almost sense them. 10 relatively easy orders in a row… you just know she’s coming. She sounds chipper and she is … annoyingly so in fact. She has no clue what’s on the menu and even less of a clue what she wants. All she knows is she’s got some other people that want stuff too and they pulled a “Surprise me!”

So she pulls up and cheerfully asks about what kind of muffins you have. You’ll run to the front display to recite what’s there.

“We have blueberry, low-fat blueberry, cranberry, low-fat cranberry, triple chocolate, raisin-bran, whole wheat carrot, fruit explosion and cranberry blueberry bran.”

“Oh” she says as though she’s surprised by such a cornucopia of muffin flavours. “Can I get the triple berry bran?”

“We don’t have a triple berry bran. We have a triple chocolate or a cranberry blueberry bran.”

“Right… ok… I’ll get the carrot explosion.”

“Whole wheat carrot OR fruit explosion.”

“Yeah that sounds good.”

“The fruit explosion?”

“Yeah. Now what kind of donuts do you have?”

“We have, Boston cream, Maple dip, honey dip, chocolate dip, vanilla dip, walnut crunch, powdered strawberry, honey crueller, chocolate glazed, double chocolate, apple fritter, blueberry fritter, sour cream glazed, old fashioned glazed, old fashioned plain and dutchies.”

“Ugh… the 4^th one.”

“Ugh… the chocolate dip?”

“Hmm… no. I’ll get the chocolate glazed explosion.”

“So the chocolate glazed? We don’t have an explosion donut.”

“Oh no? Sorry, I thought you said that. What was the apple one again?”

“Apple fritter.”

“Yeah 2 of those. A Boston cake, 3 honey crunches and 3 chocolate vanilla dip’s.”



At this point all you can do is pick items you feel match best with the names the woman has created. When you smile and hand her order out you can’t stop yourself from hoping that she isn’t a court stenographer! 

I'm Really Not Sure You Should Be Driving

Everyone has encountered this person at some point or another… you may even be this person. More often than not they ask you to repeat the store greeting. Probably because they’ve forgotten where they are and why they’ve arrived there.

They’ll jump back into reality albeit rather slowly with a raspy “Riiight!”  proceed with their order which may go something like this,

“I’ll have a {deep breath} powdered straaaaaawberry donut {deep breath} and a {deep breath} smaaaall coffee with a {deep breath} straaawwww.”

And before you have a chance to ask if that’s all (and you know it I because they come through every week on the same day at the same time and order the same thing every time), they drive… crawl… inch forward. By the time they reach the window you’ve had to make a new coffee because the other one has turned glacial. They ever so slowly roll down their window, the old fashioned way because their car is as old as them if not older and you stand, coffee, donut and straw ready for distribution, with a smile on your face that starts to etch creases into your skin until you look just like the prune in the car.

They reach out of their window so slowly you begin to wonder if something dramatic is about to happen and with a trembling hand they release a fist full of rusty coins. Naturally a few of them tumble to the ground. “Ooooh {deep breath} deeeaarrr!” they’ll say smiling in that very cute old person way.  (By now you’ll have figured out that, the I’m not sure you should be driving person, is quite elderly and if you hadn’t there’s a good chance that you will become this person… which means you’ll reach a remarkable age so… congrats I guess!).

One by one you’ll hand out the order, which they latch onto with their tendons audibly creaking and for a minute you hold your breath as that shaky hand directs the scalding hot beverage to the takeaway tray that serves as the car’s cup holder. When the mission has been accomplished you hand out the donut and straw.

When all the items are safely inside the vehicle this person will have to unsheath the straw, fumble with the coffee lid and take a sip before they step… press… apply ¼ of the proper amount of pressure to the gas pedal and inch away from the building narrowly missing a few parked cars.

*Illustrations by Ally Mac @ http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

Inappropriately Dressed Person

No shirt, no shoes, no service. 


This rule only applies to the interior of a business. You can’t really dictate what people do in the confines of their own car. Let’s be honest, it would be so nice if this rule could be applied to anyone on the property no matter if they are in their own vehicle! Although then this customer wouldn’t exist and despite the awkwardness at the time of the situation, you won’t have the opportunity to look back on it and laugh years later.

Think of all the inappropriate ways to dress or not dress and you’ll see it in a drive-thru. 


Shirtless guy who should not be shirtless … ever. 

Who needs pants I’ve got a towel, man. 

Oops where did my skirt go, lady. 

I don’t need pants I’ve got a tissue box guy. 

I’m wearing a shirt so low cut it’s a wonder why I even bothered putting one on, woman. 

You’ll see them all and so many more and the best part is unless they’re driving a truck or an SUV which they never are you practically get a birds eye view of the entire situation.

*Illustrations by Ally Mac @http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/

Ah Man That's Disgusting!

Everyone has seen THAT money. 

You know the money that is so outrageously disgusting that you assume no one would be crazy enough to bend down and pick it up. Well guess what, people do bend down, dig through heroin needle and rat infested sewers, rummage through dumpsters full of 2 weeks worth of rotting meat behind the butchers because the garbage people are on strike or find it dimly glinting through a thick layer of dog feces. 

They don’t just bend down and pick it up they think “Gee… it’s my lucky day! I should treat my lucky ass to a Boston Cream donut!”

Anyone that has worked with a cash register has dealt with this customer. Sometimes you don’t even see it coming. You think “Golly a suit, tie and a blackberry, this guy’s got it together!” then out of his pocket comes something so foul you contract several diseases just by looking at it. 

Naturally he’s already ordered so there’s no backing out now. From the revealing on, the world seems to move in slow motion. Your brain is making notes on how to break the news of your upcoming death to your friends and family, what the scientists will name the new mutant germ that took you out and how owning a Blackberry tells you nothing about a person in this day in age. 

When the sticky, slimy, breathing change hits your hand you can’t stop yourself from shuddering and thinking that it can’t possibly get any worse. Oh but it does! It can always get worse! The change decides that it likes your hand, your beautiful clean, baby bum soft hand and up until a few seconds ago you liked your hand too. You probably had been admiring it thinking, “Wow… now that’s a hand!”

Now as the money stubbornly holds onto your palm you start freaking out. HOW do you keep your composure, you’ve got to get this man his donut, but there’s 80 cents in dimes and nickels clinging to you and there is no way in hell you’re using your other hand to remove it. Two diseased hands… that’s out of the question you’d have to be insane to pull that move. You could just scrape it into the till but then you contaminate all the, by your new standards, clean money. You look to your right but your co-worker is entertaining a gentlemen coffee caller, you check out your right but no one’s there. You can feel your palms start to sweat which actually get’s you excited. “AHA” you exclaim to yourself as a light bulb bursts forth above your head. “I’ll sweat it off!”

But you know what… whatever biological weapon of mass destruction has coated the money, only gets stickier. You’ve got to do it, make the ultimate sacrifice. You have to use your other hand to scrape it off. You close your eyes as your fingers dig into the sticky mess and the change plops onto the counter in front of you. You can feel that it’s off but you feel even dirtier. 3 months later you still think you’re dying when a new spot appears on your body and people still give you a wide birth at work. 

*Illustrations by Ally Mac @http://blogginawkward.blogspot.com/