I have lived most of life with a certain amount of freedom. Since I was 17, I’ve had a car. I started with a ’77 Toyota Celicaand have roamed ever since. Unfortunately, my life is a little more local these days.No car = your world is in walking distance. This isn’t a bad thing but it does limit your selection when it comes to groceries. My closest is a local company called – Market on Yates.
I don’t usually go to the market for two reasons – limited produce and high prices. I’m all about supporting local but I’m also a big fan of having money in my wallet. It was about 8pm on a Saturday night (oh I do like to party) and I needed a few things to fill in the fridge gaps so I decided to visit. I hit up two sections of the market – the deli and the produce. One manned and one where I was left to my own devices.
As I said before, the Market on Yates is a little on the pricier side so you’d think they would make up for it with amazing service. Yeah…that didn’t happen.
First up, the produce. I didn’t need much and I’m not really looking for assistance of any kind but at one point, I did go mano a mano with a dolly. Not a girl, the transporter of boxes. Sneaking up behind me was a milk jockey (what the hell would you call that job) with a dolly of dairy and a destination. He just sat there behind me. No “excuse me.” No “could I get by.” Nothing. I got the impression that I should have known better and moved. Sorry, just the guy paying your salary. I’ll get right out of your way.
Second, the deli. After asking if I’d like anything, the countergirl/woman became a mime. I ordered three things – a quiche (testosterone filled) which she wrapped, ham which she sliced…and when I said I changed my mind on the third thing…, she just walked away. Literally just turned and left. No “have a good night”, no “ok”, just, gone. No personality. No warmth. No signs of life. Stepford Deli.
I’d like to say the checkout counter was much different but the whole store seemed to be on auto-pilot with the personality of a No. 2 pencil (not with the crazy troll attachment on the end, those are crazy).
The Conclusion: 2nd Date – I’ll give you a second chance. But I’d like a few things next time – eye contact, a smile, a pulse. I don’t care that it was 8pm on a Saturday. It could have been 8am or 3pm, the service should be the same. Give me some effort! I’ll go out with you again but it’s more out of lack of options than a desire for a long-term relationship.
Service Rating System:
Friend Zone – I just don’t like you in “that way.”
Booty Call – If I don’t have anything else better going on, I’ll stop by.
2nd Date – I’ll give you a second chance.
Going steady – This could be the beginning of something major.
It’s all in the little things. A smile. A nod. A “have a good day”. I once served in Australia where a philosophy of no tipping results in little to no customer service in the land down under. (why did that sound inappropriate?) I’m Canadian and trained to serve so for every Aussie table I had, I got them water…even if they hadn’t ordered one! Or any drink for that matter. I apparently opened the Australian customer world’s eyes to something it had never thought possible. The compliments, the raves, the kudos and all I did was put a glass under a tap and drop it on a piece of wood. Thanks to a little thing, I consistently made tips in a country that didn’t believe in it.
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