Customer Serve-Us

hey ladies and gents, thanks for checking me out once again. right now i want to vent. the point of this selection isn't to sway you, compel you, or even inspire. i DO hope that my ventilation acknowledges, exposes and brings to light ONE of the most horrific epidemics that's plaguing the black community (i'll do laziness and ignorance another time) : LACK OF CUSTOMER SERVICE.

I'm sure there are layers of psychological, parenting, and educational reasons that explain this trendy triflingness , so i'll let you as the reader appropriately diagnose these examples that I had the misfortune of living.

EXHIBIT A: The Perpetual Hood Experience @ Wendy's on Boulevard/Ponce

it's 2011 and for several years i've patronized my local Wendy's located in midtown Atlanta off of Ponce De Leon and Moreland Avenue. Now it didn't take long for me to recognize the quality of food and sanitation would hardly rival or resemble that which is represented on TV commercials, but i do have expectations!

Expectations meaning when I'm in the drive-thru ordering, let me get a chance to finish (ie I know there's a sauce that comes with nuggets, don't cut me off when i order them; give me a chance to say "nuggets with sweet n sour sauce and honey mustard"). When I order my fries, why do they look like they been on the grill since Christmas? But in fear that they may play 'kick the can' with my burger, I silently pull-up. I used to think my old man was anal when he would specifically order "fresh fries and will wait for a new batch" because its all about the principle, and there are principles in customer service!

For this paragraph just insert several occasions of me coming home disappointed with a fudged order, a burger clad with my worse enemy (cheese), or the bread as hard as a ten commandment tablet. And the only reason I don't check my bag when it's given to me is because I feel like i'm walking on eggshells at "the second window." I'm so conditioned to being rushed off without a grace period to count my change, check my order and be told 'have a nice day.' No. It's just the roll of the eyes and a "how dare you" look for asking for the nugget sauce you forgot to give me.

And that's just my big ball of blurred blunders. That's not a recounting of a traumatic experience; it's like that all of the time (*You may say if it's that bad then discontinue from patronizing there….theoretically you're right, realistically my frugal side and gas prices trump those ethics!…i'll get over it lol).

EXHIBIT B: FOOT LOCKER @ Underground Atlanta

So if you're a sneaker fiend like me, specifically a Jordan Head, then you know the proper protocol for successfully acquiring your Jordan on release day. Especially a retro Jordan. Through trial and tribulation or being hip to urban legend, you know if it's a classic Jordan coming out, you only have 24 hours (at the most) to successfully secure your shoe or you're ass'd out. And for big foot, size 13 wearing cats like myself, you may have a two hour "shelf life" at the most. Literally. I don't think I'll ever be one of those who camps out in front of the store days before the release date or goes to some "midnight release special", but I will be at your sneaker store promptly at the beginning of business hours to cop!

With that said, a couple of weeks back one of the best Jordans to ever come out, the cement/grey elephant skin Retro 3s were released. It was a cold Saturday morning following the Atlanta snowstorm that shut the whole city down and I was up early like a rooster-fiend. The clock couldn't count down any faster but when it struck 10:00 I swiftly called those jerks at FootLocker Underground to: A) confirm they had them and B) request them to hold me a pair while I was en route to grab them up. I spoke to a young girl and she affirmed both of my interest points. I told her my estimated time of arrival was 20 minutes. I got their in 15.

Upon my arrival I was quickly dismayed to find out my Jordans were hasta lavista baby. I thought it was some kind of joke. Business hours began @ 10, it was barely 10:15 when I got there, and the store was a ghost-town due to the snowstorm. Once I figured they weren't playing, I still feel like the joke was on me. I confronted the young lady I spoke to on the phone, and she said her colleague just sold the ONLY 13 in the store to a guy minutes prior to my arrival. What had me so peeved was the lack of communication. Like from the time you got off the phone with me and assured me that you would set aside a pair of Jordans for me, what happened; where was the lack of communication? In my head Im asking this chick 'Why didn't you physically set those aside for me or communicate to your colleague not to sell the 13's b/c a dude name Dice was on the way to get them?' Of course I asked her that and she said she thought the dude that was sold the 13s was me. Obviously it wasn't if you didn't ask him and furthermore where is your accountability? She just brushed me off and had a look like "that's one of those things." No lady, it's not one of those things. Admit that and find a way to accommodate me. Naturally she gets annoyed that I'm unhappy and says "first off, i'm not really supposed to be holding shoes in the first place" bla bla bla…That maybe true, but where was this disclaimer when you were pacifying me up on the phone?

I don't know if I was more upset that I didn't get my shoe or the way I was treated. If you're gonna do me, at least use vaseline and kiss me. Show some contrition, accountability and some compassion. What's tragic is that the superiors you may want to report these incompetent and rude employees on are just as inept, immune and oblivious to customer service and etiquette as them. Crap like this makes me reiterate Chris Rocks' infamous sentiment: "I love black people, but I hate niggas" and start patronizing at "non-Afro-American" ran establishments. When I worked in "Corporate America," I used to say you're not working in" Corporate America" unless the racial ratio was 4:1 in favor of Caucasians. I think I'll start adopting that mentality as a customer.

"Other" races maybe a bit more anal and irritating (ie asking "can I help you"; "do you need help?"; "are u finding everything ok?" or just following you every 2 minutes) and cause you to feel or say "no futher-mucka, let me be the master of my own domain" as my man Troop says, but I'll take that. Yeah you're probably racially profiling me or thinking I'm going to rob/steal something, but at least you're giving me the attention that I need for you to get my services and needs right. And that's what it's all about, getting your needs serviced thoroughly with a pleasurable experience. A pleasurable experience doesn't have to be defined by kissing butt and getting personal, it's just being thorough while treating people with respect. I'm Dice. I'm a shopaholic. Thanks for letting me vent and share.