Customer Dis-Service

Because I’m a stereotypically-undervalued arts and culture worker, I don’t have a whole lot of disposable cash to spread around, all carelessly and willy-nilly and stuff. So when I do spend my hard-earned pay, I like to do it at companies that I feel have somehow earned, or at least in some way deserve, my business.

Unfortunately, I’ve noticed a rather unfortunate pattern when I’ve been out shopping around Halifax lately: it appears that many of the bigger businesses have entirely given up on training their staff.

I don’t have any statistics to back up my conclusion, because statistics, as you know, are now considered suspect by our federal government. So, in the new Canadian spirit of going forward without all the information, I will do just that, and draw my own biased conclusions.

First of all, it appears that there is no one out there explaining to the people behind the cash registers that “No problem” is not an equivalent response to “You’re welcome.”

Listen to me: it’s not the same at all. “No problem” implies that there might, in fact, have been a problem.

I’m no marketing expert, but I think that if customers are NOT walking out of your store mumbling, “You wanna bet it’s no problem, Bucko,” then that is a win/win scenario. This is just one example of how a little simple training in terms of customer relations and expectations could possibly go a long way.

Here’s another example of a training void: product knowledge. I recently tried to purchase some house paint, at a chain store whose name combines both our nationality and the round rubber things that support our cars. “Point me to your exterior latex white paint,” I said to the gentleman, who proceeded to point me to a can of primer.

“Perhaps you could direct me to someone who works in this department,” I suggested. “Oh, this is my department,” he assured me. “What about this?” he asked, indicating a can of deck-surfacing substance.

I did not purchase any paint on that occasion.

A few days later, a fan, which had been running pretty much 24/7 at my home for the past month, died. Desperate, I phoned all over town to find a new one, without much luck. Then, I checked a nearby department store’s website, and was excited when I saw that the location closest to me had the fan I needed, in stock.

“Nope,” said the young man, when I called to ask if he could hold it for me. “We ain’t got any fans at all.” He spoke in that dead-sounding, “I-could-not-care-less-about-your-problem” tone of voice. After a bit of back-and forth, in which he blamed me for having the wrong information, I gave up. “Well, thanks for all your help, and thanks for being so polite,” I said.

I believe the sarcasm may have been lost on him.

Perhaps if these things hadn’t all happened within a few days of one another, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but because it’s becoming a regular occurrence, it’s beginning to feel like part of a bigger problem.

So, how about this? If companies don’t want to invest in their employees, then may I suggest that they just employ robots or set up kiosks or something?

At least a blank stare and a monotone reply from a machine wouldn’t feel quite as ungrateful for my patronage.

A World without Bags

It’s not that I’m being willfully ignorant, it’s just that I have a memory about as reliable as our mayor is proactive. So, even though I recently bought a couple of those unsightly re-usable grocery bags, I almost never remember to bring them into the grocery store with me when I get out of the car. In fact, most of the time I forget to even put them IN the car.

And it’s not that I don’t care about the environment and the future of the planet and all that, it’s just that … well, I find plastic grocery bags kind of …convenient. For carrying groceries. And for other stuff, too.

So the fact that one of the local grocery stores has gone “bagless” causes me some concern. I don’t mean a lot of concern. It’s not keeping me up at night, or anything.

I just don’t think I could live a completely plastic-bagless existence.

First of all, I hate being seen in public carrying those ugly re-usable bags around. Especially those big green flowered ones. Sure, you can carry a lot of stuff in them and (supposedly) throw them in the washer when they get dirty. Like I need more laundry to do. But since you actually own them and you have to take them with you into the store, they’re sort of a fashion accessory, and in that sense, they’re downright embarrassing.

Then there’s my pooch and her somewhat inconvenient need to poop twice a day. I know, there’s already been a ton of discussion on this subject. But listen, I’ve tried those biodegradable bags. And without getting into all the messy details, they’re kind of narrow, and they don’t work well for …larger dogs. As for a certain environmental group's advice to use paper bags (!!) …well, you guys first.

Also, I have an extremely arrogant and demanding kitty-cat whose litter needs to be scrupulously scooped daily into something that can be tied and tossed quickly, before one faints from inhaling the toxic fumes. I should also point out that if this litter is not cleaned fastidiously and often, this cat will pee directly out the door of the litter box, as a message to me, her horrible owner. So a reliable supply of grocery bags for this purpose is more or less essential.

Sometimes I re-use my grocery bags to haul my recently-read magazines over to the hospital so they can be delivered to the various waiting rooms – which, I might add, are usually in desperate need of fresh reading material. Do I get any points for re-using my plastic bags for good rather than evil?

And at any given time, there are various shopping bags in service around my house as storage containers for wrapping paper, craft supplies, summer clothes, nuts and bolts, clothespins, old comic books, photographs… you name it. Those bags are pretty darned versatile. I doubt that it would be better for the planet if I went out and bought a bunch of hard plastic containers.

Maybe inventive re-use runs in my family. My Uncle Jack refers to a plastic grocery bag as his “briefcase” and cheerfully totes his important documents around in one (generally known as a “Sobeys bag,” even if it’s from another store) whenever he has a meeting with some official or other.

I have also been known to make use of this system from time to time – until recently, when I managed to find a handy alternative – a $1 “courier bag” from the dollar store. So you see, you can’t say I’m not trying to be proactive.

Okay, I’m just being flippant here ...but I get a distinct sense that I’m probably not supposed to joke about this stuff. So don’t get your #2 HDPE and your #4 LDPE plastic bags all in a knot, okay? I am cutting back on my use of these bags. I’m just saying that if the whole city were to go plastic-less, I’d be in a bit of a…uh, sticky situation.

Anyway, must “environmentalism” and “sanctimony” always go hand in hand? All that righteous indignation out there is probably contributing to global warming, you know.

(This item was previously published in my weekly column, "Don't Get Me Started" in the HRM West Community Herald.)