Thoughts on Customer Service in a Slow Economy

I have been a small business owner and a public servant at different times in my career. I have always taken pride in at least trying to provide excellent quality service in whatever I happened to be doing. In fact, right now, all of my business comes from word of mouth. I don’t have to advertise (yet, at least) because my clients recommend me. I realized early on that it’s the cheapest, most effective way of getting new business. And there’s also that little side benefit of having clients actually come back and give you more business ’cause they got their money’s worth the first time around.

What just baffles me, especially right now, is when I do business with someone and get utter crapola in terms of customer service. Are these people nuts? Or just plain stupid?

Two friends and I recently went to a local brewpub that shall remain nameless (although I’m tempted to say which one it was). At the door, the snippy hostess told us she’d “try to find us a table” (we could see several empty ones from the doorway) but that it would be 30 minutes or so. We asked if we could order food at the bar, and she looked off into the distance and huffed “If you want to…” Finally, not wanting to cause her to exert herself in any way, we opted to sit at the bar. Our little hostess friend couldn’t be bothered to bring us menus–perhaps she was busy texting or something. So, I walked up to the front and got them from her. An eon later, our server showed up. Although she was friendly and well intentioned, she also was disorganized and inattentive. All three of our meals came out with something missing or something wrong (remember, pub food…not complicated). Wrong side dish for one of us, wrong toppings on a burger, another burger ordered rare that showed up cooked to oblivion. Then the bill came, complete with overcharges. Seriously, other than perhaps throwing us out, this place could not have done more to convince us that they didn’t want us to come back.

Next, I called a plumber for a bid on a few-thousand dollar project. Small, but nothing to sneeze at as the building industry slows down and winter approaches. I waited a couple of weeks for the bid, but didn’t hear anything. Then I called the office and the receptionist, rather than be bothered to take a message, asked me to call back later because she was busy with another customer. Um, thanks but no.

And I could go on. It seems particularly bad in retail and restaurants. I dunno, but if I were running one of these businesses right now, I would make darned sure to train my employees so that they’re bringing customers back–not driving them away.

However, I’ve also seen the flip side: I was recently in the co-op making a complicated purchase, and the checker figured out a fabulous way to solve the issue, using better deductive reasoning than I’ve seen *anywhere* lately. I was so impressed, I ran home to tell Tater about it. And then I told anyone who’d listen. And everyone agreed that (1) that checker is probably going to have a great career in something not a grocery store, and (2) wouldn’t it be freakin’ nice if everyone would pay that much attention when someone’s trying to give you money?

The other cool thing was when I needed to arrange a casual dinner party for a group and ended up going to a cafe that normally doesn’t take reservations. I spoke with the manager and told her what I needed. She was quick to realize, again, that I was trying really hard to bring her a big group of customers, but we needed to be assured of having a big enough space when we showed up. She agreed to hold a large table for my group…a simple thing, really, but if you consider that many other cafes have said no to this type of request, it’s pretty outstanding. And that is how you get business coming through your door instead of your competition’s.

It’s like being a really old teenager…

I come from a family of very large people. Not so much height as width, though. My mom’s side of the family has taught me such terms as “morbidly obese” and “stomach stapling.” I think I’ve been lucky because my father’s side consists of lean and wiry, whippet-like peoples, so I’ve got a balance.

But, I have always had a tendency to gain weight very easily. That combined with a, shall we say, rather cavalier attitude toward regular exercise has been a perilous combo for me. I’ve always managed to keep things under control, though. While never exactly rail-thin, I’ve always been active enough and a healthy eater to keep myself at a respectable (even adorable?) weight.

Recently, though, several complications have occurred. First, I’m pushing the outer limits of my thirties and it appears the old metabolism has decided to take life at a slower pace. Second, every single one of my friends is an excellent cook, and Tater is one of the best (certainly the best cook-boyfriend I’ve ever had). Tater is also big on the red meat eating. Finally, my red wine intake has increased in the last few years–never have I appreciated empty calories more.

So, now, a few pairs of my favorite jeans apparently shrunk in the wash or something. I’m having visions of waddling around like some of my family members, resigned to wearing large, shapeless polyester clothing. The horror! It’s clear that 15 pounds must go…and stat.

All of which means I just joined a gym for the first time since 1988.

It’s a great gym, actually. I like it way better than the crappy, stinky pickup scene that was my last gym. Still, there are all these Really Fit Athletic People running around flexing their muscles in my general direction. I am pretty sure one of the women who works out about the same time I do is a King’s dancer. There are large, extremely buff men in the free weight room. All of which tends to be a little intimidating. So, there I am, feeling extraordinarily lame and self-conscious, wandering around…not sure how to use all the fancy machines. In other words, I feel like a total dork. A total somewhat-flabby dork.

While I was doing free weights the other day (mind you, the 3-pounder “free weights”), I happened to glance in the mirror and see my underarm flab wobbling. I was outraged. I Do Not Have Flabby Underarms! I don’t! Those are for fat, old people. (Yes, my feet are wet and I think I do see a pyramid in the distance.)

To top it off, all this sweating has made me break out for the first time since, like, high school. (Don’t say it–I do shower after every workout.) I am walking around, feeling like a dork, with a gigantic zit right under my left nostril. Complete humiliation. Now I have to go buy acne cream or something. What are the kids using these days, anyway?

But, we do looovvveeesss the steam room. Aah!

Looking forward to more of this in the days to come!

A great bit from Alex Kopplman over at Salon.com today:

 Meanwhile, Paul Waldman’s latest column for the American Prospect is the first entry I’m aware of in what will no doubt be a canonical body of “booting George W. Bush out the door” commentaries going to print between now and Jan. 20. Other than a small, offsides penalty assessed for rushing to beat everyone else to that space, Waldman is flawless…:

    This presidency is finally over. We can say goodbye to an administration whose misdeeds have piled so high that the size of the mountain no longer shocks us. In our lifetimes, we will see administrations of varying degrees of competence and integrity, some we’ll agree with and some we won’t. But we will probably never see another quite like the one now finally reaching its end, so mind-boggling a parade of incompetence and malice, dishonesty, and immorality. So at last — at long, long last — we can say goodbye. And good riddance.  

 

The article (here) also includes the suggestion that Al Gore might make a good Secretary of State. Ah…bliss. Is it too much to hope for?

Group therapy, anyone?

It’s been about a week now, and I’m starting to get my emotions under control…finally. The first few days after the election were punctuated by my bursting into tears every time I heard someone say “President Obama.” Tater is convinced I’ve lost my mind. I’m doing a little better now, but figured some of you out there might also be suffering from the affliction and would want to form a support group or something.

Let it just be said, though, even though I do think Obama is going to make a great president, my bursting-into-tears thing is more about how proud of my country I am. Finally. For so many reasons. I am proud that so much of middle America has finally become fed up (or wised up) to the direction that we’ve been going since, arguably, the Reagan years.

I’m fed up with divisive politics. I’m fed up with “right wing” and “left wing” labels. I’m fed up with special interest groups on either side of the fence driving the agenda for all of us. I’m fed up with political rhetoric that obscures the truth and hurts our society. I’m fed up with the suggestion that “conservatives” are all Nazis (although certainly some of them seem like it) and the accusation that all liberals are nanny-government fascists (although certainly some of them seem like it).

Although I didn’t agree with much of Reagan’s politics, he was the “great uniter”–something that we haven’t seen since he left office. (And just imagine how far McCain could have run with that platform–I’m baffled that he didn’t work that angle harder.) However, we should not overlook that Reagan also left us the largest national debt in history prior to W., but he was instrumental in bringing the cold war to an end. Obama ran on a platform of unifying Americans, and although he’s got a long way to go, the resonance of his words throughout the country is clear. People do want unity…and a government that leads by not sidelining or deriding a substantial portion of the population. It’s clear that neither party in our unfortunately two-party system has all the answers, but if they stop hurling epithets at each other for a little while, they might actually do some good.

Here’s hopin’.

More work to be done…

I’m having a little crying jag this morning, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. And I have given in to the temptation to do a little tushy dance a few times. I believe that many of us here in the newly pro-America portions of the country have earned our right to rejoice and look forward with great optimism.

However.

The news today is not all good. I’m deeply disturbed by the race on Prop 8. Although it hasn’t officially been called, the numbers are not looking good, my fellow Californians. I really thought we’d pull through on defeating this proposition, but it looks like it is going to pass. We successfully liberated the chickens, but did not manage to reaffirm the basic right of a significant population.  I scratch my head in bafflement, as I look out at my street: four homes on this block are the homes of long-time gay couples. Nurses, real estate agents, architects, and awesome neighbors. I can’t imagine how they’re feeling today. For now, the only thing I can say is “Your marriage is still valid to me.” No matter what happens, those of us who are not members of the gay and lesbian community can–and must–continue to show our support for our fellow Californians whose fight isn’t over yet.

We collectively took a huge step forward yesterday, but that next step will be just as important. Someday, we will get there, too. I thought we were there. I really did.

How I Voted for McCain and Palin Today

Today I cast a vote to protect what John McCain and Sarah Palin have been talking about on the campaign trail. Freedom. Justice. The economy. Jobs. Over the course of this election, I’ve come to realize that what they want is what I want. I agree with them that it is time for the U.S. to improve its foreign policy and to once again demonstrate its ability to be a leader among nations. It’s time we restored our country to a strong path, and get us out of the handbasket we’ve been in. And it will take nothing short of a true visionary and a true maverick to get us there.

So, you see, I voted for the candidate who I believe will get us to those goals. I voted for Obama–and I did it for you, John and Sarah. I voted to protect your freedoms, to help strengthen this country, and to put a leader in office who shows the world the best of what we have to offer.

All sarcasm aside, today was a humbling and amazing day. I am proud to say I voted. I voted with a sense of gratitude like never before. It does feel like there’s a righteous wind at our backs.

Si se puede!

Bankin’ for ‘Bama

I recently spent some quality time phone banking at the Sacramento for Obama office. This was my first time doing phone banking. I walked in cold, with some trepidation. Calling complete strangers on the phone? Yikes.

The place was packed. There were so many volunteers, there wasn’t even a phone left for me to use. The small room was crackling with energy. The noise level was high with so many conversations going on at once.

I was a little worried about the people being too fiery-eyed, but that wasn’t the vibe at all. The whole time I was there, people were positive, upbeat and not acting like freaky acolytes. Why was I there? What was it that made me go do phone banking for the first time in my life? Just a feeling of duty–that I had to do something, right then. That it was important to contribute in even this minuscule way.

The first call I made, luckily for me, was to an Obama supporter who’d already voted. Phew. That was easy. I thanked her for her time and hung up. Then I realized, I forgot to follow the script, which had a couple other questions we were supposed to ask people.

I made the second call, and did better. With every call, my delivery improved, and after a dozen or so calls I was in the groove. And it felt good. No, it felt great! Many of the people I spoke with had already mailed in their ballots. Of those, all had voted for Obama. One woman said, “It’s Obama all the way. Of course it is!”

The people I spoke with made my day. I could just hear the hope and the happiness in their voices. But the one call that made me feel like it was really worth it? The woman who said “Oh, I heard it was too late to mail in my ballot.” The cool thing was, we all had these lists of where people could drop off their ballots. I was able to let the woman know it wasn’t too late, and give her the address where she could take her ballot. A small thing, but a highlight of the day.

We have a week to go. I’ll be going back to do what I can, like thousands of other volunteers across the country.

Open invitation to Tina Fey

I would like to say, just for the record, that I was a fan of Tina Fey’s before this whole stupid doppelganger thing.

Dear Tina –

Your comment about leaving Earth if John McCain (or, more specifically, She Who Might Eat Puppies) is elected really resonated with me. Everyone else always threatens to move to Canada or Mexico or France. But you…you raised the bar. I always leaned toward Mexico myself, since it has nicer beaches than Canada and better margaritas.

But, if you leave EARTH, I mean…where does one go? The audacity! Of course, if you’re a Trekkie, you have virtually hundreds of planets, theoretically, to choose from. But, I’m not a Trekkie (even though I know what they mean when they say M Class planet).

Your idea, though, has stuck with me…It’s unique. It’s oddly appealing. It’s a strange, quirky twist on old ideas. Why, it’s much like you, yourself, isn’t it?

And, now, apparently, it’s possible. I give you Gliese 381c.

Tina…if they win, please contact me. I would like to come with you. In fact, I believe we could easily populate this new, slightly larger-than-Earth planet with millions of the best people who no longer want to occupy this one.

We’ll need to re-name it something more appropriate, of course. But you’re creative, so I think you’d come up with something really good. I mean, we could call it something like Tinath and I’d be content.

I mean, hopefully, it won’t come to that…but if it does, it’s really comforting to have a back-up plan.

Terrorist fist bumps,

6

The truth is out: I’m an un-American America hater, too.

Frankly, it’s kind of a relief, you know, that somebody finally had the courage to just come out and say it. There are so many people these days who just hate the crap out of this country. People like me who have been hiding under the rocks like little cockroaches, and it’s high time somebody set us straight…doncha think?

So, I was thinking this weekend about how I turned out this way…so wrong-headed about everything and so willing to hate this wonderful country the way I do. And why is it that when I am out back burning my bras (with or without my coven) that every so often I feel the compulsion to toss Old Glory on the bonfire, too? Some of the reasons I came up with…

* Let’s start with our stupid educational system. First off, it’s all socialistic because the government actually pays for it. That totally sucks. But even worse? They taught me about useless things like critical thinking and deductive reasoning. These things have not served me well because I’m always asking questions–seeking some lame “ideals” instead of just knuckling down and getting to work–like a true American would do.

* Next, that ill-thought out Bill of Freaking Stupid Entitlements…er…Rights. I mean, it’s patently obvious that not all men are created equal (much less we mere females). Bah! And anyone can say whatever they want? That’s utterly ridiculous. (Actual true note: I’d probably be better off not saying whatever I want all the time, since it usually gets me in trouble.)

* I was raised with this completely illogical belief that it’s allowed for people to practice their own religions in peace and that I can even choose which one to follow (or, in my case, none). I mean–that’s a recipe for social decay if I ever saw one!

* The whole voting thing–it’s such a burden and a waste of time. All that reading you have to do, and the paying attention. Not only that, but then you get all these crazy ideas, like “a woman could hold public office” or “let’s have a black president”–you know, whacko fantasy stuff like that.

* I simply despise how we send money and food all over the globe via institutions like the U.N. and USAID. Talk about spreading the wealth around. We’re nearly as bad as, say, Sweden. And really, who wants to be like Sweden? Bunch of crazy, tow-headed socialists…Do you know, some of our money even goes to pay for things like toilets and water treatment plants and schools in other countries. Scandalous.

* But the worst thing of all is that this country set me up! I’m a victim here! All this time, I’ve just been walking around freely, reading books by other America haters, just thinking I can spout off my opinion or choose my own path or own a small business or support gay marriage or…any number of other ill-conceived, anti-freedom, unpatriotic sorts of activities. This country made me live a life filled with lies and misinformation–I always thought this crazy behavior was okay. Even encouraged. Boy, was I wrong.

Now that I’ve seen the error of my ways, I shall live out the rest of my days striving to be a good, pro-America American! I will wear a flag pin on my lapel and attend church. I will organize rallies to oppose these rampant rights that are steering so many of us in the wrong direction. Meet me in front of City Hall! What shall we protest first?!! Let’s start with that annoying First Amendment…it’s gotta go! Also, all this socialism has got to stop. First, let’s make people pull up their bootstraps and start paying for their own schools. Then we can tackle that sacred cow of the leftist wealth redistributionists–Social Security. There’s so much to do!

Just in closing, this weekend brought back a memory of when I lived in Miami. It was during the Elian Gonzales fiasco, and people were rioting in the streets. Portions of the “Miami-Cuban” community were incensed. (I won’t go into the details because it’s like 40 years of really twisted history.) The nightly news had a shot of a Cuban man holding a burning U.S. flag from a window, as he screamed (in Spanish) ”This country oppresses me!” I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or get angry, and so I just did both. The image has stuck with me because I never had the opportunity to grab him firmly by the lapels and explain to him in detail what a hypocritical moron he was. Not that it would have worked.

The Graying of Gen-X

It’s so hard to be a Gen-Xer. The sammich generation between the bloated Boomers and the ever-so-hip “Millennials”. The generation that sums up its entire emotive range with whatever. The generation that is essentially considered a nonentity by every pollster and marketeer, but nonetheless brought with us an amazing range of music (hair bands to punk to Morrissey) and was the inspiration for a long string of movies like The Breakfast Club (or better…Heathers).

Not to mention, we whine with the best of ‘em.

Anyway, we’re all getting f*cking old. I ran into a guy from high school, who’s two years younger than me. He’s now managing a bank, balding, what’s left of his hair is gray, and he has (shudders!) a PAUNCH. A freaking middle-aged PAUNCH.

We used to be the cutting-edge ones, the cool kids, the face of a new generation. Now? My compatriots and I are widening at the midsections, fraying at the seams, and sagging a bit more each year. And yet, as has been the case all our lives, our petty concerns are ignored by the self-absorbed older crowd–they’re just worried about their stock investments and their cholesterol counts, and dismissed by the younger crowd–who are too busy doing something techy with their iPods to care.

Oy vey. It’s like my generation hasn’t even fully grown up–and now we’ve started getting OLD?