Why I Hate Telephones

Me: Front desk, how can I help you?
Man: I need to make a reservation.
Me: Reservations is closed. They are open from 8am to 10pm.
Man: That doesn’t work. I need to make a reservation now.
Me: I’m sorry, you have to contact the reservation office to make a reservation.
Man: You won’t just make one for me.
Me: I cannot, no.
Man: Don’t you know who I am?
Me: No.
Man: Fine. Asshole. [Click]

Firstly, if this man wants to be known, perhaps he should have given his name. Secondly, if he was anyone important enough to warrant this sort of attitude, he’d have people to make reservations for him. Thirdly, I think asshole is more of a masculine term. I personally prefer bitch, thank you.

The thing that gets me is that I truly believe that customer service is one thing that I do very well. I smile. I am overly helpful. I’m polite. Tim is always making fun of my “customer service voice.” I’d say my success rate for calming irrate customers is between 85 and 95 percent. But this is the second time this week that someone has called me something derogatory over the phone–totally undeserved. It pisses me off.

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