Good Service

I remember a time when good service meant something in retail. A time when shop clerks actually smiled at patrons, asked if they could "help," even inconvenienced themselves to ensure good service. But now, with the advent of the massive bargain retail establishment, quality service is dying. Enter Walmart and Ross Dress for Less. Outfits that buy sweatshop t-shirts by the million so they can sell to you at "rock bottom" prices and put mom and pop stores out of business in droves. Bottom dollar, that's all we seem to care about anymore.

I had an excursion at the Ross Dress for Less store last week. It just happened to be the only place open where I might buy gloves at 10:00PM on a Thursday night, and I suddenly realized the job would have me outdoors for several hours in the freezing cold. I was working, which always makes me feel like a gigantic spectacle, as my uniform is Carolina blue and adorned with a badge, name-tag, and collar insignia. People are immediately focused on my gun and Taser, especially small children, who constantly have to fight the urge to touch or be jerked suddenly by mom, followed by a terse warning.

I found gloves that matched my uniform and moved to the cash register. The line was at least twenty customers long and I had the fear I'd be called by dispatch before purchasing the gloves, leaving me standing in the cold for four hours with no gloves, my hands a frost-bite experiment. Only one register was open, and, of course, there was some sort of problem involving a mislabeled item that an elderly woman was arguing about the price. The rest of us were impatiently waiting for service. I couldn't' help but notice a morbidly obese black woman wearing a name tag labeled Manager. She shuffled up to the register and began a conversation with another woman waiting in line. "Hey Auntie, how'd you like them mashed taters Marie made after church last Sunday?" They chattered away, oblivious to those of us waiting in the line from Hell. Another employee straightened a t-shirt rack not ten feet from the registers. Her name-tag read Cashier, but she ignored the lines and folded t-shirts, very slowly I might add.

This went on for about ten minutes. The old lady continued ranting about the price. I guess $3.99 was too much for a sweater. She insisted it was marked for $3.49, the argument building to a crescendo, but the cashier never called anyone for a price check, opting to bicker with the old woman until finally agreeing to lower the price to $3.79. Finally, the manager seemed to realize the line was almost touching the rear wall of the store. She called for the second clerk to assist on the register. She even opened up the register herself, but she never helped. She stood between the registers, laughing and carrying on, while the two cashiers rang up patrons. Two additional registers were less than ten feet from her, but she never moved to help in any way. She didn't even bag the clothing. She just stood there, laughing, ignoring the line