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A Few Words To the Customer by Ray Printer Friendly

If youíve ever worked in customer service, you know just what Iím talking aboutÖ

If youíve never worked in customer service, itís probably because youíre a rational human being who has no interest at all in standing around in one spot all day and letting people line up to come bitch at you and tell you about how bad you suck. You havenít fallen to a place so low in your life that your self-hatred has forced you to stand at a plastic counter in an ugly shirt and let people blame you for all the faults of a corporation.

Nobody works in customer service because they like people. Nobody gets a job in customer service saying things like, ďI just want to help people.Ē If they do, they are quickly used up, their souls are broken, and they are spit back out into the gutter or the job market.

Me, I didnít apply for a customer service position. To tell you the truth, I applied for a job in the warehouse, as far away from people as I could possibly get. Becauseóhere, lean in close, I want to let you in on a little secretópeople suck. I despise people as a general rule. Back in the day, back before I fell into this evil, heartless place called customer service, I believed that there were good people out there.

That didnít mean I liked them, but at least they were out there. Good people are generally like good dogs. They smile a lot, they get all yippy if you smile at them, and theyíre as dumb as the piles of shit that they eat. In the human version of the stupid dog, itís not literally shit, I guess, but maybe something like a Britney Spears CD.

But I digressÖ

I will digress a lot in this rant, in case youíre wondering. Itís the holiday season, believe it or not (donít believe it, not for a second. Itís all just corporate America trying to stuff Christmas bullshit down your throat a little earlier each year). When your average Joe or Jill or whatever the fuck weíre calling our average citizens these days, when they think about the holidays, they probably think about roasted turkey, or festively-decorated trees and homes, or conjugal visits. Maybe they reminisce about childhood holidays, or chestnuts roasting on an open fire, or that time the school caught on fire during the school Christmas play and nobody had to go for, like, six weeks. Whatever.

What Iím trying to say is that these are happy thoughts.

Working in retail can crush your soul in a way that the Nazis would have envied. There are no happy thoughts here. Halloween rolls around, and as soon as itís gone, you realize youíre in for some shit. November first, and some old lady comes in talking about how she wants to buy this pack of gum for a Christmas present for her grandchildren this year, but if when they get it, if it doesnít taste right, she wants to bring it back in for a refund. I hate old people so much.

But itís not only old people. Itís everyone. I mean, as I mentioned, I hate all people. But you get to the holiday seasonóno matter how early the corporate world has deemed itóand itís like people lose their minds.

Even the good people, they end up screaming and yelling about how you donít have a video game in stock, how the only bags you have to offer are transparent, how traffic is bad.

Working in customer service during the holiday season is one of the worst things in the universe. If you donít believe me, ask Satan. Heís the one who set it up, I think.

I love America. I want to make that perfectly clear. If youíre confused, donít worryóit will all be straightened out in a moment.

The problem with America is that weíre all too pampered. We have reached a place in society where itís actually turning everybody into pussies. I mean, think about how back in the day, when youíre trading pig parts for corn or whatever. I bet there was never a guy coming back with a bag full of innards and heís like, ďYeah, I want my corn backóthese innards, they donít do what I thought they would.Ē There was no thirty day return policy back then. You were lucky if the shit you bought didnít give you some weird intestinal virus that killed you.

So hereís my idea. You can bring back whatever you want. Your television doesnít look right? Fine, hereís another. The catch is, your new TV comes from this big pile of boxes behind the customer desk. And the REAL catch is, all of these TVs work perfectly. Except some of them, when you push the power button, a laser shoots out and melts your eyeballs. If youíre lucky, you just lose your sight. If youíre unlucky, or maybe just a little too slow, it melts your brain, too, and you die a horrible death. And while the laser fries your brain, the audio blares, ďThis is what you get for being such a finicky bitch.Ē

Just an idea.

If you think thatís pretty harsh, listen to my Plan B: Everyone who walks in to return something because ďI just donít like it,Ē the customer service people get to pull out a giant gun and shoot them in the leg. Everyone who says, ďYeah, I got this as a gift, I donít even know if they bought it from this store,Ē you get to shoot them in the balls. And if they donít have balls, you can just shoot them anywhere.

If a customer yells or calls the customer service person stupid, the customer service person gets to pull out a giant knife. It doesnít necessarily mean that anyone gets cut, but at that point, itís how fast the customer can run and how bad the customer service person wants to cut the customer.

I seriously think this would toughen up America. We need to quit being such whine-bags, for real. At the point that there are a million lawsuits for stupid things like dropping hot coffee in your crotch? Fuck you, consumers of America. I mean that.

I love my country, but I hate the shitheads that inhabit it.

Okay, thatís enough for tonight.

But Iím not done.

My parting words go like this: If customer service people recognize you, what you need to do is go home and kill yourself. Iím serious. Kill yourself, man, because at this point, youíre making the world a worse place, thereís no getting around it. Staying on the planet is actually a worse sin than that of taking your own life. So go home, take a bunch of pills, cut your wrists, and then shoot yourself right in the face. Because you suck that bad.


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