Customer service is certainly not my 'thing'. In fact people are not even my thing, period. Which is odd considering that I'm supposed to be one. Debatable. I may look like something resembling a person, albeit a rather unattractive one but I'm quite positive that I'm not one. Unsure what weird kind of alien species I am, really but my friend Randa came up with the word Freakazoid and I like it so I'll pinch that.
How does this Freakazoid know that Customer Service isn't her thing? Because she is a Freakazoid, that's how. The fact that she talks about herself in the third person just adds to the whole Freakazoid phenomenon. Additionally, she also worked in a Customer Service type job for 3 years back in the 1990's. It wasn't much fun. I guess that might be why it's called work. Ahem. More specifically it was a call centre for N R No Way, a rather well known insurance and motor side assistance concern.
The point of this post is that I am not going to complain about any poor Customer Service that I've received. Instead I am going to take the opportunity to say this:
If you ever called N R No Way between the years 1994 to 1997 and dealt with a whispery voiced, ineffectual eejit who didn't know the answers to any of your questions then put you on hold a rather annoying amount of times in order to go and find out before eventually cutting you off, it was probably me and I am deeply and sincerely sorry. Terribly, terribly, frightfully sorry. And no, I can't get through a post without channelling Enid Blyton. You'll just have to deal with it. Smashing.
Furthermore, if you received a quotation from said ineffectual eejit ie. me and then barked into the phone "What was your name? Melissa, was it?" intending to ring back later, only to ring back and have difficulty locating the 'Melissa' you spoke to, that was because my name is actually Vanessa but I didn't correct you because obviously I wanted to dodge your return call.
Again, ever so sorry. Sort of. Kind of. Okay, not really. Bloody people! Just because I was getting paid to provide service to you didn't mean I liked it! Seriously. What exactly do want from me? I was trying to be nice here and apologise but I can feel the judgement. How DARE you judge me?!
I do not deserve such judgement. I'm a nice person! All those cranky people wanting cheap insurance and ringing me were mean and nasty and annoying! Honestly, how RUDE is it to expect the sales assistant on the other end of the phone to know what they were talking about and pitch their voice above a whisper? Hmph.
I couldn't seriously be expected to deal with such trivial matters as Customer Service when I was clearly a writerly genius waiting to happen. Shut up. I could write the great Australian novel if I wanted to instead of a boring as batshit bogan blog. I justcan't be arsed don't think the World is ready for that much of my sheer brilliance yet. Ahem.
While we are on the subject of my abysmal Customer Service ability I will also say that if you were an insufferably arrogant car dealer salesman type person who rang me and bellowed some sort of nonsensical code like thing at me such as "ALPHA, FOXTROT, ROMEO, BRAVO, 8900767198!!" and expected me to know what the actual fuck you were talking about and to be able to type all this information quicker than the speed of light and then became all belligerent and shouty when I couldn't keep up and demanded to speak to my supervisor, then I have two words for you:
FUCK YOU.
On second thought, no. Not those two words. I do not wish to fuck you. I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole. Partly because I have no idea what a barge pole is exactly but it sounds heavy. So yeah, no barge poles for me. Also, you are probably a hideous, balding gargoyle in an ill fitting suit with gold chains. Ew. Instead try this:
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I think I feel better now. You will be happy to know that I resigned from the job and never tortured anyone with my dubious Customer Service skills ever again. And I never will. I've found an easier way to torture people. This blog. So ner.
A final thought on Customer Service. Well, not really a thought, more like an anecdote. I don't really remember any stories of horrifying Customer Service (besides my own woeful attempts) but rather an establishment not actually providing the product they were renowned for.
This happened once when we drove through the drive through of a popular fast food chain. As you do, because this is why they are called drive throughs because you drive through them, you don't walk. That would be silly. Plus it would totally defeat the purpose, which is to be as bone lazy as possible while purchasing junk food. It just makes the path to obesity that much smoother, which I think we'll all find is quite handy. Or is that just me?
Anyway, I'll get to the point. Eventually. Soon. Alright, now.
This particular fast food concern is known for serving chicken as their main type of food. Let's just call them Red Rooter. Again, I must thank my esteemed friend Randa for this excellent turn of phrase. The following happened.
We cruised to a halt at the ordery thingy ( I have no idea what you call them) to hear the usual monotone "What would you like?"
To which Micky Blue Eyes replied "One whole chicken please."
Pause.
Then the monotone voice came again. "Sorry, we have no chicken."
Excuse me?
No chicken? At a chicken shop. Red Rooter no less.
I just wanted to say Red Rooter again. I'm really mature. Shut up.
Becoming rather annoyed at this news, Micky Blue Eyes exclaimed "Is this a fucking chicken shop, or what?"
They ignored this, instead asking "Is there anything else you'd like?"
We really just wanted the chicken and figured Red Rooter was a sure thing for it. Apparently not.
"No thanks. " Mick growled and we sped off feeling rather annoyed and still hungry for chicken.
How rude of them not to have any chicken when they were a chicken establishment who at the time were known for proudly proclaiming:
Australia, your chicken is ready! Hmph.
Imagine going to the bank to withdraw money and they say "I'm sorry. We have no money."
Imagine going to a florist for flowers and being told "I'm sorry. We have no flowers."
Imagine going to a bakery for bread and being told "I'm sorry. We have no bread."
Actually that last one would be okay because they would usually have cakies so who cares about boring old bread when there are CAKIES.
No, I can't get through a whole post without mentioning cakies either. Shut up.
Right, that's it from me then. As you were.
Linking up with The Queen Of Awesome for The Lounge.
Do you love providing Customer Service or are you more of a Freakazoid like me?
Any customer service horror stories you can tell me so I can comfort myself
that there are worse Freakazoids than me? There is, isn't there??
How does this Freakazoid know that Customer Service isn't her thing? Because she is a Freakazoid, that's how. The fact that she talks about herself in the third person just adds to the whole Freakazoid phenomenon. Additionally, she also worked in a Customer Service type job for 3 years back in the 1990's. It wasn't much fun. I guess that might be why it's called work. Ahem. More specifically it was a call centre for N R No Way, a rather well known insurance and motor side assistance concern.
The point of this post is that I am not going to complain about any poor Customer Service that I've received. Instead I am going to take the opportunity to say this:
If you ever called N R No Way between the years 1994 to 1997 and dealt with a whispery voiced, ineffectual eejit who didn't know the answers to any of your questions then put you on hold a rather annoying amount of times in order to go and find out before eventually cutting you off, it was probably me and I am deeply and sincerely sorry. Terribly, terribly, frightfully sorry. And no, I can't get through a post without channelling Enid Blyton. You'll just have to deal with it. Smashing.
Furthermore, if you received a quotation from said ineffectual eejit ie. me and then barked into the phone "What was your name? Melissa, was it?" intending to ring back later, only to ring back and have difficulty locating the 'Melissa' you spoke to, that was because my name is actually Vanessa but I didn't correct you because obviously I wanted to dodge your return call.
Again, ever so sorry. Sort of. Kind of. Okay, not really. Bloody people! Just because I was getting paid to provide service to you didn't mean I liked it! Seriously. What exactly do want from me? I was trying to be nice here and apologise but I can feel the judgement. How DARE you judge me?!
I do not deserve such judgement. I'm a nice person! All those cranky people wanting cheap insurance and ringing me were mean and nasty and annoying! Honestly, how RUDE is it to expect the sales assistant on the other end of the phone to know what they were talking about and pitch their voice above a whisper? Hmph.
I couldn't seriously be expected to deal with such trivial matters as Customer Service when I was clearly a writerly genius waiting to happen. Shut up. I could write the great Australian novel if I wanted to instead of a boring as batshit bogan blog. I just
While we are on the subject of my abysmal Customer Service ability I will also say that if you were an insufferably arrogant car dealer salesman type person who rang me and bellowed some sort of nonsensical code like thing at me such as "ALPHA, FOXTROT, ROMEO, BRAVO, 8900767198!!" and expected me to know what the actual fuck you were talking about and to be able to type all this information quicker than the speed of light and then became all belligerent and shouty when I couldn't keep up and demanded to speak to my supervisor, then I have two words for you:
FUCK YOU.
On second thought, no. Not those two words. I do not wish to fuck you. I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole. Partly because I have no idea what a barge pole is exactly but it sounds heavy. So yeah, no barge poles for me. Also, you are probably a hideous, balding gargoyle in an ill fitting suit with gold chains. Ew. Instead try this:
.jpg)
I think I feel better now. You will be happy to know that I resigned from the job and never tortured anyone with my dubious Customer Service skills ever again. And I never will. I've found an easier way to torture people. This blog. So ner.
A final thought on Customer Service. Well, not really a thought, more like an anecdote. I don't really remember any stories of horrifying Customer Service (besides my own woeful attempts) but rather an establishment not actually providing the product they were renowned for.
This happened once when we drove through the drive through of a popular fast food chain. As you do, because this is why they are called drive throughs because you drive through them, you don't walk. That would be silly. Plus it would totally defeat the purpose, which is to be as bone lazy as possible while purchasing junk food. It just makes the path to obesity that much smoother, which I think we'll all find is quite handy. Or is that just me?
Anyway, I'll get to the point. Eventually. Soon. Alright, now.
This particular fast food concern is known for serving chicken as their main type of food. Let's just call them Red Rooter. Again, I must thank my esteemed friend Randa for this excellent turn of phrase. The following happened.
We cruised to a halt at the ordery thingy ( I have no idea what you call them) to hear the usual monotone "What would you like?"
To which Micky Blue Eyes replied "One whole chicken please."
Pause.
Then the monotone voice came again. "Sorry, we have no chicken."
Excuse me?
No chicken? At a chicken shop. Red Rooter no less.
I just wanted to say Red Rooter again. I'm really mature. Shut up.
Becoming rather annoyed at this news, Micky Blue Eyes exclaimed "Is this a fucking chicken shop, or what?"
They ignored this, instead asking "Is there anything else you'd like?"
We really just wanted the chicken and figured Red Rooter was a sure thing for it. Apparently not.
"No thanks. " Mick growled and we sped off feeling rather annoyed and still hungry for chicken.
How rude of them not to have any chicken when they were a chicken establishment who at the time were known for proudly proclaiming:
Australia, your chicken is ready! Hmph.
Imagine going to the bank to withdraw money and they say "I'm sorry. We have no money."
Imagine going to a florist for flowers and being told "I'm sorry. We have no flowers."
Imagine going to a bakery for bread and being told "I'm sorry. We have no bread."
Actually that last one would be okay because they would usually have cakies so who cares about boring old bread when there are CAKIES.
No, I can't get through a whole post without mentioning cakies either. Shut up.
Right, that's it from me then. As you were.
Linking up with The Queen Of Awesome for The Lounge.
Any customer service horror stories you can tell me so I can comfort myself
that there are worse Freakazoids than me? There is, isn't there??
