The following is part of a serialized story, Everyone Thinks I Dream of Chocolate. You can find the first chapter here.
I read a theory recently that it only takes four minutes to find out how you really feel about someone. I’m not sure how true this is because as a former service worker, I found that this number is actually closer to about 10 seconds.
Within that time, a customer will do the following:
- Greet you
- Tell you what they want
- Pay
These might seem simple because they are. However, the nuance is in how customers choose to naturally engage these objectives. In these moments, they will naturally perform how they treat and think about other people, even more than they do among their closest friends. Walking into a store, there is an inherent power dynamic that places customers on a pedestal because they have the capital, the fuel that makes an economy go round. Even if they don’t realize it, some people immediately take on the mannerisms of someone much richer than they actually are.
Based on this rubric, I would say that the ideal standard for a customer follows this loose outline:
- Say “Hello.” It doesn’t have to be overly optimistic in tone, just not antagonizing.
- Tell you what they want. Saying “Please” is optional, but it will give you bonus points on the good customer report card. This can be substituted by simply having a pleasant tone.
- When paying, give the money directly to the cashier. Do not put it on the counter and expect us to pick it up (unless you’re in Japan, then put it in the little money box). The worse thing you can do here is simply to toss the money on the counter.
This last one might seem obvious but you would be surprised. I’ve had people toss dollar bills on the counter and look away as if they are waiting through a loading screen. It’s the same attitude that people have as they wait for a credit card machine to finish processing, just going through the motions.
The difference is that I am not a machine. Clearly, I have a face but I guess when I don my uniform, I am part of the establishment, the institution. I am not Mouse the person, but Mouse the worker. Somehow, behind the counter, I become a machine that takes orders and cash, then spits out a receipt.
Some of these customers are also prone to talking on the phone. This isn’t really an issue if they are waiting in line or window shopping. It becomes a problem, however, when they continue to clamp their little black bricks between their shoulders and head. This pose makes them look Lovecraftian, a distortion of flesh and technology as they mouth out their orders. I can’t lip read so I usually ask, “Sorry?”
“Hold on, Chelsea,” they will usually say. This theoretical customer will roll her eyes as if I had inconvenienced her. She most likely wears a set of jogging tights and a purple vest. Possibly a mom.
“Can I get 6 of the milk chocolate caramels with sea salt?”
Before I can say anything, she will be back on my phone. She will stare off down to the side as she continues talking, maintaining a pose that makes her look like she is doing an impression of Stephen Hawking that some might consider offensive.
The worst part is that some of these people are oblivious to my irritation. When I hand them the bag of goods, they lookup for a moment, smile, and mouth “thank you.” These customers usually get a “C” in my grade book. Not bad people. Just dumb.
Others don’t even follow this basic format that I have laid out. I’ll say “Hello, welcome!” I will not get a “hello” back. They will go straight to the point.
“I’ll take a grilled cheese.”
They will toss the money onto the counter, look to the side. Often, these are tired old white men who never learned the love of a father who was physically present but emotionally distant. They will take in a big breath, then sigh as they turn their attention to the ceiling.
With some of these customers, I ran a series of experiments. I would get their change and lead my hand into his as if I was about to give it to them directly. Their hands would be out, not in gratitude at the common decency. They just expect this, to be catered to. At the last second, I will change my hand’s trajectory, sloping down to the counter, then lay the money there gently.
The key is to maintain a level of social stealth. I have to time my hand’s landing so that it is slow (but not too slow) and steady. The distance from the drop is also important, close enough that the customer expects the money but not too close or they suspect that I’m playing games with them (which I am). They are stuck between wondering if it was intentional or just a dumb kid who doesn’t know how to socialize. This fine line is exactly where I want them, to leave the shop ultimately confused. It is like giving them a microdose of LSD that hits them all at once and lasts a fraction of a second.
Based on these experiments, I have come to the conclusion that many customers become unintentionally rude when they are interacting with a service worker. Maybe it is because many are kids. There is also the social stigma that service work is beneath many people. As I said, I lose the status of ‘person’ and become a worker.
Which is why I love playing the change game. It’s a small, psychological slap in the face. It’s a reminder to them that deep inside they are still people. It’s like how Tyler Durden splices a cock in the middle of a Disney movie. It’s so fast that you miss it, but something inside you gets cut, your ego damaged from a moment of self-realization.
So here is Golden Rule #1: Look at me when I’m fucking talking to you.
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16. Evening Cocktail
Danger Wonka 