The Life of a Customer Servant
Tonight I just couldn't face it any more. Weeks and weeks at work of being in a blind panic, knowing that we're not really doing the top job for customers, but when they ring I say, "Hi!" sunnily like I'm happy to hear from them, and just as I put down the phoning saying, "Holy fuck" to myself and am writing an email to chase something up and solve the problem, the phone rings again, another one of them, where is the thing, are we on track to finish the thing by COB today, and I speak sunnily to them too while praying to god I don't forget to press send on the other urgent thing that's sitting half-done.
And the boss walks by and goes, "Can you..." and to every sentence the boss says that starts "Can you..." I smile sunnily and say, "Yep!" And to his sentences that go, "How's the...." I say sunnily, "Under control! Coming along!"
And last night I made a plan to avert boring and depressing Good Friday to go see my bestest friends, and I took white wine and they wanted to drink red, and I took hot cross buns and they hate them so I brought them back home again, and I wanted to leave an hour before I did because I was exhausted and had an early start today, but there was no break in the conversation. And the conversation was they bicker. And enough red wine was drunk that they were nearly starting to fight, it was almost getting a bit nasty. My friends. My bestest friends, my surrogate family. She would scornfully contradict every single thing he said, instead of every fourth or fifth thing like usual, and he would cut her off every single sentence she said and he would start a loud, pompositous pronouncement, three words before the end of every single sentence of hers. She called him an idiot. He laughed scornfully when she made some throw-away comment about sometimes not being hungry. But then the worst thing was, I know I go over there and they feed me all the time, but then I can't exactly invite them to eat because they know I can't cook and they'd laugh and scorn and would say, "YOU're cooking? You want us to come over and eat something YOU cooked? Oh, honey, let's go out! Ha ha ha." But then I was floating the information that sometime in the next few months I'll have to cook dinner for my new book club, and wanted to run some ideas past them, and when I said that she laughed scornfully and grabbed him and said to him, "Oh, for a second I thought she was going to invite us over! Ha ha ha." So, that sounded like something mean and scornful, like, we always feed her and does she ever invite us in return? People can feel scornful things like that and never say anything and just keep saying "Yeah, sure, stay for dinner" when you go over but it leaks out, if they feel it, it leaks out and poisons the relationship. And also, since she is my surrogate mother I can't help feeling, like I do with my real mother, that there's some unspoken obligation that I'm supposed to be doing that I don't know about and haven't been told or asked but I'm going to get in trouble for not doing, just need to keep trying things and guessing what it is and hope I get everything covered, and then there it is, drunken snipe, I am supposed to invite them over for dinner and I haven't yet, even though I do mean to and am working up to it and looking for an opportunity, but there's the resentment and judgementalness, leaking out like poison. Also, I'm a bit worried about them because they're being so mean to each other, and she's obviously not the same from the grief over her dog, and over her daughter and grandkids moving away, but to tell the truth it was the invite-for-dinner laughing thing that upset me the most. So, that's not straightforward either. And then, when they were sniping at each other and cutting off each other's sentences for an hour, I thought, they aren't listening. They don't listen. They aren't checking to see if I'm okay, or too tired, or looking like I have to go. I love them, but I was smiling sunnily for them too, and it was all fake and today I feel a bit bruised and a bit upset.
And then today I was at the Art Gallery. Archibald season, my first time on the Archibald desk. And it was pouring rain all day, so it was super-crowded. I did the afternoon shift which is extra-long. We were running out of change. People were crowding up before I had the notes put away from the previous person. People were putting $12 on a credit card, couldn't fish twelve measly dollars out of their wallets, and I had the especially temperamental credit card machine, I had to tear up about four slips today that didn't print properly and start again. Line up the stairs, impatient wet people, a $12 charge, and they say, "Credit?" and flip their wallet-warped card at me and I wince to myself and think, oy vey please help me god not misprint this or split their card in half, which has happened, especially with wallet-warped cards, and I smile sunnily and go, "Credit? Sure!"
So, is it any wonder that at 5pm when I was supposed to catch up with the philosophers and the lovely but potentially very needy sickly one who can't make decisions, who was supposed to make a plan to watch movies at his house tonight all together for Easter but never wrote or called with any specifics, is it any wonder that although I walked toward where they were I just couldn't face them tonight, a big group all yammering meaninglessly like boys always do, and no one would listen to me and no one wanted to care how grumpy I was or that my surrogate parents were snipey or that I'm exhausted from smiling at people when I want to BARK and YELL and CRY instead, would any of them care or even understand what that's like? I just couldn't face it. I sent a text message to one, which didn't do the trick because I got a phone message 45 minutes later from another, but I just couldn't face it. I do in fact feel like I'm getting a cold. I just want to curl in a ball and watch tv at my own house (fortunately, god smiled upon me and delivered The Sopranos Season 6 Disc 1 into my hands). I want to be with someone with whom I am free to be in a bad mood. Not a single fucking soul in this town. So just on my own then.
I can't smile one more sunny smile. I can't smile and listen to conversations that I don't care about. I have to go back to the Art Gallery tomorrow and do it all again, although not giving change this time, just tickets to the free film. Happy fucking Easter. I need to talk to someone with whom I can just be real, and complain about work but then they won't think my work is bad, because it's great, and I need to complain about the customers at the Art Gallery with someone who knows that the Art Gallery and all the customers are great and my favourite thing, and I wish someone was in my house where I could just collapse and cry because it's all too exhausting, but there's not. So I'm doing it here by myself.
Sunny customer service girl to return Tuesday. Or else. Don't worry. I'll be sunny and fine again soon. But not, fucking not, fucking not tonight.
And the boss walks by and goes, "Can you..." and to every sentence the boss says that starts "Can you..." I smile sunnily and say, "Yep!" And to his sentences that go, "How's the...." I say sunnily, "Under control! Coming along!"
And last night I made a plan to avert boring and depressing Good Friday to go see my bestest friends, and I took white wine and they wanted to drink red, and I took hot cross buns and they hate them so I brought them back home again, and I wanted to leave an hour before I did because I was exhausted and had an early start today, but there was no break in the conversation. And the conversation was they bicker. And enough red wine was drunk that they were nearly starting to fight, it was almost getting a bit nasty. My friends. My bestest friends, my surrogate family. She would scornfully contradict every single thing he said, instead of every fourth or fifth thing like usual, and he would cut her off every single sentence she said and he would start a loud, pompositous pronouncement, three words before the end of every single sentence of hers. She called him an idiot. He laughed scornfully when she made some throw-away comment about sometimes not being hungry. But then the worst thing was, I know I go over there and they feed me all the time, but then I can't exactly invite them to eat because they know I can't cook and they'd laugh and scorn and would say, "YOU're cooking? You want us to come over and eat something YOU cooked? Oh, honey, let's go out! Ha ha ha." But then I was floating the information that sometime in the next few months I'll have to cook dinner for my new book club, and wanted to run some ideas past them, and when I said that she laughed scornfully and grabbed him and said to him, "Oh, for a second I thought she was going to invite us over! Ha ha ha." So, that sounded like something mean and scornful, like, we always feed her and does she ever invite us in return? People can feel scornful things like that and never say anything and just keep saying "Yeah, sure, stay for dinner" when you go over but it leaks out, if they feel it, it leaks out and poisons the relationship. And also, since she is my surrogate mother I can't help feeling, like I do with my real mother, that there's some unspoken obligation that I'm supposed to be doing that I don't know about and haven't been told or asked but I'm going to get in trouble for not doing, just need to keep trying things and guessing what it is and hope I get everything covered, and then there it is, drunken snipe, I am supposed to invite them over for dinner and I haven't yet, even though I do mean to and am working up to it and looking for an opportunity, but there's the resentment and judgementalness, leaking out like poison. Also, I'm a bit worried about them because they're being so mean to each other, and she's obviously not the same from the grief over her dog, and over her daughter and grandkids moving away, but to tell the truth it was the invite-for-dinner laughing thing that upset me the most. So, that's not straightforward either. And then, when they were sniping at each other and cutting off each other's sentences for an hour, I thought, they aren't listening. They don't listen. They aren't checking to see if I'm okay, or too tired, or looking like I have to go. I love them, but I was smiling sunnily for them too, and it was all fake and today I feel a bit bruised and a bit upset.
And then today I was at the Art Gallery. Archibald season, my first time on the Archibald desk. And it was pouring rain all day, so it was super-crowded. I did the afternoon shift which is extra-long. We were running out of change. People were crowding up before I had the notes put away from the previous person. People were putting $12 on a credit card, couldn't fish twelve measly dollars out of their wallets, and I had the especially temperamental credit card machine, I had to tear up about four slips today that didn't print properly and start again. Line up the stairs, impatient wet people, a $12 charge, and they say, "Credit?" and flip their wallet-warped card at me and I wince to myself and think, oy vey please help me god not misprint this or split their card in half, which has happened, especially with wallet-warped cards, and I smile sunnily and go, "Credit? Sure!"
So, is it any wonder that at 5pm when I was supposed to catch up with the philosophers and the lovely but potentially very needy sickly one who can't make decisions, who was supposed to make a plan to watch movies at his house tonight all together for Easter but never wrote or called with any specifics, is it any wonder that although I walked toward where they were I just couldn't face them tonight, a big group all yammering meaninglessly like boys always do, and no one would listen to me and no one wanted to care how grumpy I was or that my surrogate parents were snipey or that I'm exhausted from smiling at people when I want to BARK and YELL and CRY instead, would any of them care or even understand what that's like? I just couldn't face it. I sent a text message to one, which didn't do the trick because I got a phone message 45 minutes later from another, but I just couldn't face it. I do in fact feel like I'm getting a cold. I just want to curl in a ball and watch tv at my own house (fortunately, god smiled upon me and delivered The Sopranos Season 6 Disc 1 into my hands). I want to be with someone with whom I am free to be in a bad mood. Not a single fucking soul in this town. So just on my own then.
I can't smile one more sunny smile. I can't smile and listen to conversations that I don't care about. I have to go back to the Art Gallery tomorrow and do it all again, although not giving change this time, just tickets to the free film. Happy fucking Easter. I need to talk to someone with whom I can just be real, and complain about work but then they won't think my work is bad, because it's great, and I need to complain about the customers at the Art Gallery with someone who knows that the Art Gallery and all the customers are great and my favourite thing, and I wish someone was in my house where I could just collapse and cry because it's all too exhausting, but there's not. So I'm doing it here by myself.
Sunny customer service girl to return Tuesday. Or else. Don't worry. I'll be sunny and fine again soon. But not, fucking not, fucking not tonight.
posted by Ellen at 8:25 pm
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