Customer Disservice

 It’s happened to all of us. Whether it’s the surly barista at Starbucks or the American Eagle clothes-folder who follows you all over the store, we’ve all experienced the awkward please-just-leave-me-alone feeling when we’re around salespeople who are a little less than helpful.

I know that over the course of a typical afternoon at my neighborhood mall, I encountered at least half a dozen unhelpful salespeople and it makes me wonder why they can’t just do their jobs like normal people. I’m not saying that this applies to all the salespeople out there, but to those who seem inclined to give less-than-satisfactory customer service, I’ve decided to write a series of open letters (actually, they’re more like memos) to address the issue.

To the frantic salesperson who reluctantly opened up a fitting room for me after I waited for 10 minutes, I’m sorry you hate your job. I’m also sorry that the fitting rooms have to be unlocked in order for me to get into one, but it’s not my fault that you’re apparently the only person who has a key, and it’s not my fault that your store carries weird-sized jeans that I need to try on before I buy. I’m sure your boss is really running you ragged, your boyfriend is really being a jerk right now, and there are so many more important things that you’d rather be doing, but for the time being, you’re at work. So do your job. Just because you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you have to take it out on everyone else. The angry looks and harsh tone are completely unnecessary. I get it. You’re busy, and while I don’t expect you to really care about how my day is going, my sensitive ears really don’t need the hostility.

To the overeager shoe saleswoman who felt the need to put the shoe on my foot for me, first of all, you have to be either one of the bravest people I’ve ever met or one of the most bizarre. Don’t you know that in most shoe stores, people are perfectly happy to try on shoes by themselves? You really don’t need to put yourself in that kind of hazardous-slash-awkward situation. What if they have some kind of foot fungus? You’ve just put yourself at risk. What if they’re like me and have issues with perfect strangers touching their feet? You’ve just completely creeped them out. If you happen to like touching other people’s feet, then I have one thing to say to you: Never come near me again. Thanks.

To the hawk-like salesperson who followed me around the store pretending to help me pick out a size when really, you were just making sure I wasn’t stealing anything, I’m not a kleptomaniac. I promise. All your hovering is really making me self-conscious. I dropped that scarf twice. No, it’s not because I’m a klutz. It’s because I know you’re watching me, and it’s really starting to make me nervous and twitchy. OK, maybe it is because I am a klutz. But I wonder whether you’re doing this because your boss told you to, or because you’re just strangely obsessive. If it’s the former, I get that you’re just doing your job, but do you think you could back off just a little? If it’s the latter, you should still back off a little. Everything in the store is tagged with one of those little anti-theft devices. If I trip the sensor on my way out, I give you full permission to tackle me, OK?

On a different note, however, I would like to write an open thank-you memo to the only normal salesperson I encountered that day. To the salesman at the See’s Candy Shop who actually asked me what kind of chocolate I wanted for my free sample (instead of just giving me any old kind), I would like to tell you that I love you. Why can’t more people be like you?

We can all learn something from these experiences. Being at your job doesn’t give you the excuse to be rude or creepy. We’re all people here, and we’ve all got things we need to do. If you can’t be nice or normal, then at least try to act like you are.

This is the opinion of Angelica Cadiente, a freshman business management major from Los Angeles, Calif. Please send comments to arobinson@theloyolan.com.