Bad customer service makes my head cave in.
I didn't used to be this way. For a long time I was very reluctant to make a scene in a public place. With age, though, I hide my feelings less. Also, life with Partner (who is far more forthright than I am in expressing himself) has made me a little more, ahem, openly expressive.
So, for example, when supermarket cashiers get impatient and reach around to push the card-reader buttons for me (TOTAL $16.13 OK? YES / NO), I have been known to slap their hands away.
Also, I recall a smirky little coffee-shop employee who, when I asked for a pound of coffee to be ground for espresso, informed me that I didn't really want that. I don't really remember what happened after that – I think I blacked out – but I think I decapitated him.
Lately Partner and I have been mixing it up at our local health club. It's only been open for a couple of years, and it's still moderately shiny, but the staff are cheerful and inept. When equipment breaks down, they hang little OUT OF ORDER signs on it and get back to their important and difficult job of schmoozing and smiling. There's been a problem with the stationary bikes lately, and the evening manager gave Partner a lot of guff last week about how difficult it is to have these things repaired, blah blah blah.
We have, in order to show our appreciation for her help, been writing long descriptive essays about the place, and the staff, and sending them via email to the health club's corporate office.
Well, the equipment's not fixed yet, but the staff is now terrified of both of us.
Now that's progress.
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