Sunday, April 25, 2010

The uber-customers

posted Mon, 18 Dec 2006

So there’s the occasional jerk. Most customers are pretty nice. And some are exceptional:

The woman with the Texas driver’s license (I saw it when I looked up her credit card number) who turns out to be an Aggie. I tell her I went to Rice and UT. We exchange life stories, i.e., I tell her about my job situation. She is a project manager at a local company -- she tells me to look at her company’s website and call her if I see something I like.

The man who is waiting while his wife shops some more after I had checked them out. I didn’t have gift boxes in the size they wanted, so had suggested they go to Gift Wrap. When I see him waiting, I ask if he found the boxes he wanted. We strike up a conversation and I discover – very late into the conversation – that he works at my former employer. He asks what I did there, I tell him, we chat about it. I exhibit no bitterness, no rancor, just matter-of-factness. Say I loved my job, hate that it ended, got a great severance, have to find a new job.

Then I ask what he does. He tells me. I ask his name.

He’s a super-high bigwhig. I mean like his name is the one I would read on the documents hanging on the wall next to the copy machine. That high up. He tells me to call so-and-so, a VP at Other Big Memphis Company, and to use his name. I will. I will.

The woman who turns out to be another Air Force brat who grew up in Bermuda. Well, grew up there as much as a military brat can. There are no other customers waiting, so we talk for a good while and compare brat notes. She has written a book of poems about Bermuda and it’s been published and she is going to Bermuda to sign the book and it’s just so cool and I’m so excited for her. McGraw Hill wants to publish one of the poems in a textbook and it’s just neat that this can happen to a grandmother. She gives me her website, but I don’t have time to look at it when I get home.

But no need! The next day, she returns and gives me a copy of her book as a gift! How nice is that?

The woman who was not treated well by another clerk so came to our counter. Lacy was so much nicer to her that the customer went out into the mall and bought three cookies for her. Lacy shared them with me. Lacy is nicer than I am. Or maybe it's just because I saw the whole thing and she (Lacy) felt like she had to share.

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