I'm Tagged! Eight Random Things About Me

Ok, so this post actually doesn't have anything to do with customer service, but I was "tagged" by my fellow blogger and BFF, TheDiva Rockin. Never one to leave a call unanswered, I am returning the tag with this blog post: Eight Random Things About Me. Hey, can't hurt if we all get to know each other a little better, can it? Here's some randomness at it's finest:

1. I have a paisley birthmark on my stomach
2. I understand Spanish well enough to know when someone is talking crap about me, but they'll never know it
3. Despite having a Master's Degree, I am the worst speller you'll ever meet (grammar is not so hawt, either).
4. I order ice cream sundaes and only eat the whipped cream and sprinkles
5. I was almost arrested in Italy for failing to pay my way on a Roman subway
6. I've never balanced a check book or bounced a check
7. I can usually Name That Tune in three notes or less
8. I'm ambidextrous (and yes, I had to look up THAT spelling for this post).

Fellow bloggers & friends: Consider yourself tagged as well! What randomness do you have going on?

Tis the Season

The holidays are fast approaching, and most of us are filled with that yuletide cheer. Christmas means a few of my favorite things: eggnog, snow, presents, bells, shopping and spiked punch. But, for those of us in the service industry, it also means the return of the yearly dreaded service interaction. I call it the "holiday spirit". I've worked in my current position for five years, and can document the increase in customer "complaints" are this time of year. Perhaps they are trying to tap into some of my holiday cheer? If so, they are barking up the wrong tree with Queen Kat! Anyway, here's some helpful holiday tips for customers to keep in mind:
* Because it's the holidays does not mean we are going to wipe your slate clean of all monies you may owe. The cable company doesn't give me a free month just because it's "Christmas", and I won't, either
* If you have no intention of paying what you owe, that's fine. But there is absolutely no reason that you need to call and tell me this. If your hope is that by telling me you won't pay your bill, it will magically disappear, you really should see a shaman or a magician.
* Please don't use "the holidays" as an excuse. It taints what is intended to be an otherwise fun filled and relaxing time of year, and they shouldn't be used as a way to write off forgetfulness or stupidity.
* Calling me "Scrooge", "Satan", "Grinch" or the "anti-Christ" during this time of year only makes me chuckle, so please expect this reaction.
So, Happy Holidays to all of you out there who truly appreciate what this time of year is meant to be about. And for those of you who don't - tsk tsk! I'm on to you.

A Time to Give Thanks

Today is "Black Friday", the day after Thanksgiving dedicated to shopping, sales, and the ultimate display of capitalism. My heart goes out to those of you in retail today, as I'm sure a day full of early mornings, coupons and long lines has got to be the ultimate test of your customer service skills. I dedicate this post to all of you, Retail Servants, with a recap of "things" Queen Kat is thankful for.

• I am grateful that no sale or special has ever motivated me to get up at 4am and wait in line at a store - I don't care HOW cheap that plasma TV is advertised
• I am thankful that Walmart does not appear to be offering the $29 DVD players this year, disappointing many a middle-aged woman who was hoping to wrestle for the ultimate bargain. For the safety of the American public, we thank you, Walmart.
  
• I am ecstatic that my neighbors have resisted the lure of the large, inflatable and obnoxious Frosty the Snowman lawn ornament, as I'm sure this would lead me to participate in some graffiti or mischief I have thus far refrained from.
  
• I am grateful I am no longer a clerk in a women's clothing department. I once worked for a large department store chain called Filene's, and was charged with dressing room duty. I realized then the concept of "hangers" was lost on most of the patrons, and was even chastised by a manager once when I insisted upon giving a lesson as to their usefulness to a particularly sloppy customer.
  
• I am thankful I don't have to explain coupons, expiration dates, specials, signs, or other "bargains" to the argumentative customer who doesn't understand that I'm working a job that barely pays above minimum wage, and most likely comes with little to no benefits.
  

Most importantly, I am thankful to NOT be working in retail on this very special day. But we salute those of you that are! Know that most of us that have been there, and we will try and remember our shopping manners, even after shoving an 8 year old out of the way for latest Elmo doll.
Cheers!

A Reflection (of sorts)

It's a relatively quiet Tuesday evening, and I think I'm going to pass my entire day without one dreaded service interaction, when I get the call: "Kat, we have a bather". A "bather" is a person who is using our public restrooms as their own personal day spa, a no-no for our institution. Truthfully, I can't say I care all that much WHAT people do in there, but alas, my job is to address the matter. Off I must go, to again tell someone to put their clothes back on.
Put their clothes back on? I take a moment to reflect. At one point did my professional career take a turn to where this has become part of my job responsibilities? Let's take some time, readers, and explore other matters Queen Kat can't believe she's had to deal with.

• I've asked a grown man to please stop crying about missing a certain costumed character in a theme park
  
• I once had to tell a man to pull up his pants, as he wasn't aware they had fallen to his ankles
• Last year, I had to deliver legal paperwork to a pissed off man in handcuffs who had just been arrested for punching a bus driver. Since he looked like he was going to bite me, I put the paperwork on the ground and slide it to him using my foot.
  
• I had to tell a ten year old boy that "eat me" was, in fact, not a term of endearment.
  
• I've had to tell a woman that her body odor was so pungent, that she needed to leave the building due to the concern it was raising with other customers (should probably rethink the bather rule above - perhaps we've got a contradiction here)
• I had to tell a family of four that throwing bread crusts on the restaurant floor was, in fact, not acceptable behavior
• I've had to plunge a toilet, something I've never even done in my own house.
  

So, readers, it's your turn to reflect: what are your prize career moments? Leave a comment, or shoot me an email at kustomerisking@yahoo.com. I can't wait to hear them, as I'm sure some of you can top mine!

The Mad Otter

For this week's post, I share with you a cautionary customer service tale. Years ago, I worked the front desk of an upscale resort hotel for a large theme park company (I won't mention their name because they tend to be a bit sue-happy, but let's just say the Big Cheese is a guy whose name rhymes with "Hickey House"). Working at a classy hotel presented it's own unique set of challenges: namely, my modest upbringing of Motel 8's had left me unprepared to deal with a clientele who specialized in disposable cash. But, what I was even less prepared for was this following encounter I had, which occurred about three months after my employment.
I was standing attentively at the desk, waiting for the next "Guest" to approach me, when a young man, about 25 and dressed respectively in pressed khakis and a Lacoste polo, approached the desk. I'd seen his type before, and figured he was looking for a Golf reservation, a few extra towels, or directions to the nearest strip joint. It turns out his inquiry was none of the above:
Khaki Guy: "Excuse me, Miss - but are you aware that your moat has a Mad Otter?"
Silence.
Khaki Guy: "Miss - the Otter. You really need to do something about the Mad Otter."
Truthfully, he had lost me at "moat". Since when did the hotel have a moat?
I looked around, first assuring that this young man was speaking to me, and when I was assured that he was, I donned my best "Oh, Aren't you Just a Really Cute and Funny Guy" smile, and made a small laugh at his joke.
He looked at me - perplexed.
Khaki Guy: "This really isn't a funny matter. Somebody could get hurt. Can't you call someone?"
Uh-oh.
Now, I was beginning to understand what I was up against. Khaki Guy was the most stealth and dangerous of all customer service types: Crazy Guy Disguised as Clean Cute Nice Guy. I had encountered this prototype only a few times, and I had been as unprepared for those encounters as I was for Khaki Guy now. Mad Otter? We had a live one on our hands.
Since Khaki Guy would not leave until I assured him some response to our dangerous otter epidemic, I picked up the phone and dialed our back room. Relaying the "mad otter" situation to my coworker on the other end left him wondering if I had lost my mind, and I knew I'd have some explaining to do later, but it appeased Khaki Guy and sent him scurrying back towhatever asylum he came from.
The moral of the story: Beware of the Mad Otters. They will sneak up on you when you least expect it, and you'll have a hard time distinguishing between the Cutesy Patron and the ones that are just plain crazy. To prepare, always be ready to think on your feet, and attempt not to aggravate the situation. For example, I was incredibly tempted to ask Khaki Guy what made the otter "mad", but it would have prolonged an already bizarre encounter. Lastly, always play into the deranged fantasy. It makes the encounter go smoothly and calmly, until the guys with the straight jackets arrive.

The Power of Passive Aggression

I had the wonderful opportunity to spend this past weekend in Boston with my two BFFs, Kera and Kelly. Since we only get to see each other a few times a year, I am reminded (thanks in large part to the Taxi Cab drivers of Boston) about Kelly's wonderful use of Passive Aggression when dealing with those in the customer service industry. I present to you this case in point: after waiting for several moments at the Seaport for a cab to stop, one finally does. Upon entering the cab, we advise that we need to be dropped off at our airport hotel (which is, probably, five miles away at most). The cabbie, upon hearing the airport destination, starts to ho and hum, and advises us that because he's off the clock in 30 minutes, the airport is too far of a ride for him. Now, Queen Kat & Kera, not sensing the ridiculousness of this statement, start to get out of the cab. But before we do - Kelly breaks out one of her finer passive aggressive moments. She tilts her blond head to the left and says, "well, we don't need to go by way of Connecticut". Then, she dons her best Broad smile, and the cabbie is both utterly enchanted and afraid. He takes the fare, and we are instantly delivered to the Airport Hilton in under 10 minutes.
Passive aggression is a technique that I have not mastered: frankly, I'm far to direct too be considered "passive" in any of my mannerisms . But, for consumers like Kelly, it is a highly successful and effective technique. In some cases, your target doesn't know if you are kidding or serious. In examples like the one above, they are not willing to find out or take the chance. The utter confusion of the passive aggressive attack hits the weak spot of the service provider, and before you know it, they are providing the denied service simply because they don't know how to respond. So, I highly endorse the Passive Aggressive maneuver (and Kelly may even be available for a lesson or two) with a reminder of the following points: consider your audience, practice perfect delivery of the aggression, and remember to smile. You will always meet with success.
(and, a special thanks to Kelly, a.k.a. "Miss Scandalous" for being a grammar fiend and my new blog editor! *Kisses*)

I Wear The Pants

Recently, I had the following customer service encounter. This, my dear readers, is an example of having some Customer Service "fun". Some situations are just too good not to take advantage of.
Scene: Young, male customer does not wish to pay his account. After twenty minutes of circular argument via the phone, he pulls this gem out of, well, his pocket:
Queen Kat: Sir, you'll need to pay your account. There are no adjustments.
Customer: Listen, lady, you listen to me: I'm wearing the pants.
Queen Kat: Excuse me?
Customer: The pants, lady, the pants. I'm wearing the pants.
Queen Kat: Umm... which pants are you referring to sir?
Customer: THE pants, lady, which is why you're going to remove my fines.
Queen Kat: Are those like the Travelling Pants?
Customer: What?
Queen Kat: Never mind. Sir, I'm not sure what your pants reference has to do with your bill. I'd be happy to take a Visa and settle this now.
Customer: Lady - when I say "I wear the pants" that means you do what I say.
Queen Kat: Sir, I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand where this conversation is going. I, too, am wearing pants.
Customer: But you're not wearing THE pants. Now, remove my bill!
Queen Kat: Sir, are you insinuating that soon, you WON'T be wearing any pants? Because I'm afraid we're not that kind of call center.
Customer: What?
Queen Kat" You're desire to discuss your pants leads me to think that soon you won't be wearing any, and in that case, I'm afraid I'll need to end this inappropriate phone call.
Customer: But...
Queen Kat: Good day, sir, and good luck and your pants.

He he he he ....

Props to the Presentation

I was, by all accounts, a shitty waitress.
This is the first, but not last time, you will hear this in this blog.
In college, needing to sustain a five-time a week beer habit and occasional desire for new shoes, I sought out a waitressing job. How bad could it be, I thought? Throwing plates of food in front of people, wiping down tables, and collecting fat tips? Sounded fun! So, I ventured out and obtained employment at the bottom ladder of all eating establishments: the open-all-hours breakfast restaurant. (Think "IHOP" for the poor man). It was everything I had dreamed of in my vision: grease and syrup, stingy customers (two-for-one nights is a future blog), and dirty silverware.
But soon, I noticed that I wasn't bringing in the same money as the other waitresses. Now, I'll readily admit that I have had a lifetime problem with authority, and an inability to convincingly kiss ass. But, I was efficient, prompt, attentive - what gives? Why was I constantly being given prayer cards instead of actual cash?
The answer came to me one day, almost a year after employment. My BFF Kera, a very GOOD waitress by all standards, was arranging a plate at the galley. She always amazed me - taking time to scoop the butter ever so gently into it's little white cup (we were too cheap for those fancy prewrapped butter packs). Then, Kera selected the least-rotted of all the orange slices, and assembled it with a sprig of crisp parsley. Once satisfied with her arrangement, she gave her plate a little smile, and then whisked it away to the hungry table. Now, I had seen Kera do this ritual a thousand times before, and it was one I never understood. I never touched those oranges or parsley - in fact, for my first month of employment, I thought they were intended for some "special" I had yet to be introduced to. I slapped my butter directly on the plate, thinking I was doing "the man" a favor by skipping those pesky white cups. And I couldn't be bothered with accouterments like steak knives or soup spoons - I mean, the regular ones worked just fine, if you worked a little harder!
But that day at the galley I realized something - those little extras I wasn't participating in were making the difference to the customers, and in turn, to the tips. Kera's tables looked so happy when their food was served, and occasionally, they even said "thank you". So, I decided to give it a try: slapping orange and parsley together instantly brightened up a dull plate of eggs and bacon. And to my surprise, I realized something rather shocking: people would actually eat the plate flare! That possibility had never even occurred to me. So, I started to put butter into the cups, wipe the excess syrup off the little containers, and even throw in an extra napkin or two. Low and behold - my salvation become less of an issue, and I started rolling in the cold, hard cash.
I'm older now, and I have a finer appreciation for presentation than I did at the rather clueless age of 20. I take a moment to appreciate a plate garnished with a cantaloupe slice, or an adult beverage adorned with some pineapple. I like the big soup spoons, and am thankful when a server actually bothers to stock the yellow sugar packets, not just the pink and blue.
And to all you customers out there, I hope that you take a moment to appreciate this, too. Not every server is going to bother, or understand the fine art of plate presentation, so give props to the ones that do. And, to those of you that leave prayer cards (and you know who you are), I say this: thanks for the "inspiration", although it probably wasn't the result you intended.

The Principle of the Matter

It's 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon, and I'm just about to wrap up another week. From a customer service standpoint, this week has been a good one: I've avoided yellers, screamers, sighers and the dreaded criers for the entire week. But alas, as I'm just starting to shut down my office applications, my phone rings. On the other end of the receiver, the least favorite of all the customer service prototypes awaits me: Mrs. "It's the Principle of the Matter".
Now, I suppose I have some principles. Let's see, I never double dip, I only use the F-bomb when the children present are over the age of 12, and I've haven't killed anyone (yet). Those are principles, right? Well, if they are not, someone will probably have to EXPLAIN what these customer service principles are, because I just don't get it.
To me, "It's the Principle of the matter" is the most unoriginal of all the excuses. I also believe it's the most misunderstood. For example, a customer once told me that as a "principle", I should knock $1,000 off the price of a family vacation. His reasoning: He had more children the most vacationers. Huh? As a "principle", was I supposed to introduce him to family planning at some point in his life? My latest "principle" patron felt that I should waive the cost of her rightfully-assessed library fines because HER daughter lost the book. Her reasoning? Well, we have more books, but of course.
Now, come on now, Customers! We servants appreciate some originality in your excuses. The "principle" is trite, misunderstood, and misused, and while your think your big words scare us, they just serve to bore me. I end this post with a big *yawn* to you "Principle" People - no points for creativity because we've heard it before!