“Customer: A person who pays for all your vacations, hobbies, rent, food, clothing, car notes, and gives you the opportunity to better yourself.”
— Unknown
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“Good afternoon, Elegante Suites reservations in Abilene,” the voice on the phone said. “How can I help YOU today?” Heavy emphasis on the word, ‘you,’ made me smile.
It also evoked memories of one of my mother’s favorite afternoon television shows when I was in grade school. One that turned dreams of prizes and giveaways into reality for one lucky lady contestant.
The show’s opening pitch was most memorable, enthusiastically delivered by host Jack Bailey. Mom and countless other housewives across the country were focused on the black-and-white TV show every afternoon to hear, “Would YOU … like to be Queen for a day?”
Hearing the same vibe from a hotel reservations clerk last week was as refreshing as a West Texas breeze in a society having seemingly forsaken customer service.
Also in my school days, I learned about customer service working for my father in five-and-dime stores. Before electronic cash registers. Before self-checkouts. Before dehumanizing conversations with computers. Before retail giants who achieved success built on customer service before abandoning the concept, ultimately doing away with door greeters.
Variety stores like Perry Brothers had door greeters 60 years ago. They were also called store managers. Dad was often found standing at the open front door in a time before air-conditioned businesses, speaking to customers. Calling most of them by name.
“First lesson,” Dad said. “You’re not making a sale. You’re making a repeat customer who will return because you made them feel good about shopping with you.”
“Second lesson. Learn how to make correct change. Place the money they give you in plain sight on the register. Leave it there while making change,” I remember Dad saying. “Start by stating the amount they owe and count the change back to the amount they gave you.
I still remember his example. “Their purchase is $1.79. They give you two dollars. You say, ‘That will be $1.79.’ Then count back to the amount they gave you, saying it aloud with each coin. Give them a penny saying, ‘This will make one eighty,’ then the dimes saying ‘ninety and two dollars.
“That’s all you have to do. Except smile and say, ‘Thank you, we appreciate your shopping with us. Please come back.'”
My guess is some people working in businesses today missed those classes.
“That will be $5.17,” the drive-through speaker crackled. Arriving at the window, I handed the employee a ten-dollar bill and 17 cents intending to make the transaction quick and easy. It did neither. The employee took my money, put it in the register, stuck some ones and loose change in my hand almost spilling the change in the process. Then turned away.
“What’s that,” I asked.
“Your change,” she looked back and responded.
“No, it’s not, I gave you $10.17.”
Her reply? “I know.”
I was momentarily speechless.
“But you owe me $5, not $4.87.”
“Our computer doesn’t know how to do that.”
“OK, I’m giving you back all this change, you give me a five-dollar bill, and we’re even. That’s how it works.”
Silence and a scowl from the employee.
“Can I speak to your manager, please?”
I reviewed the conversation. The manager listened, then replied, “I’m sorry, our computer is not programed to do that.”
Silence. Sigh. “So, at least give me my 17-cents back and we’ll call it a day.”
More silence. After a moment, the manager opens the drawer, gives me 17 cents, and closes the window without saying another word.
A couple of nights later, giving the same establishment the benefit of the doubt for having had a bad employee day, I’m back in the same drive-through. I place my order on cue. “Two medium Cokes and two small fries, please.”
“Your total will be $13.22.” After a pause, I heard what sounded like, “Are you calling from the drive-through?” I’m hard of hearing these days, so I looked at my friend in the car with a “what did they just say” look on my face.
“Yep, that’s what she said.”
I looked ahead. The same star employee was at the window. The one who I’m reasonably sure never met a high school UIL numbers sense test they liked. Hasty digging in the console produced exact change, thereby avoiding another mathematics meltdown.
But, it appears that some fast-food franchises have seemingly developed a business model that avoids all that drudgery of learning first-grade math.
An employee at another establishment and I exchanged food for folding money. The window closed. I waited for my change. In a moment, he was back. “You want something?”
“My change,” I said politely.
“Oh … you wanted your change?”
“When I am waited on politely and the service is good, I usually just say ‘keep the change’ when it’s offered to me. Otherwise, I want my change back.”
I extended my open hand.
He opened the drawer, took out the change due, handed it to me, and closed the window. No, “I’m sorry, excuse me, thank you, I assumed you wanted to donate your change to me, to the French Foreign Legion.” Not even, as my grandmother would have said, a “kiss my foot.”
My father is rolling in his grave.
—Leon Aldridge
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Aldridge columns are published in these Texas newspapers: The Center Light and Champion, the Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, The Fort Stockton Pioneer, and The Monitor in Naples.
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