It's Not My Fault You Hate Your Job...

If you hate people, don't put yourself in a position where you have to talk to customers. Lock yourself in a basement and work on a research project that you've been dying to take on since third grade. Become a line worker in a quiet factory. Do something... just for heaven's sake get out of the line of fire that will inevitably come your way every time you have to heave yourself into the public eye and interact.

Not everyone is born social. Not everyone is born happy. Not everyone has communication skills. It's okay. I can accept that. The world turns because we are all different... well actually I think it has to do with some type of gravitational gobbeldygook but whatever.

However.

When you CHOOSE to apply for a job that requires social interaction, and you just know you're going to struggle, maybe it's best to rethink that. I have a knack for being served by those people who have chosen to make their lives more miserable in a customer-facing role. You know, the ones that look at you like you are the weight of the world and you're about to jump up on their shoulders to join the others that evidently already reside there. I'm not talking about shy people, or those who may be just a bit uncomfortable in a social situation. I'm talking about the downright nasty, miserable people who for one reason or another consider it an offense to be expected to smile or be courteous.

Let's discuss Ms. Front Desk from yesterday. Somehow the hotel's website had double-booked my reservation and as a result I showed up and Ms. F-D presented me with the keys for BOTH my rooms. When I explained to her that I didn't need two rooms, she proceeded to spit at me that I had MADE two reservations and that was that. I suggested that clearly there had been a mistake and since their website was delivering errors , perhaps there had been a problem there. Well Ms. F-D sighed heavily, rolled her eyes and stared at the room keys for the better part of five minutes, shaking her head all the while. Finally she said to me, pretending I was her pet terrier because that makes it so much easier for her, "Fine. I will cancel your reservation THIS TIME, but NEXT TIME..." at which point I stopped her and asked for clarification. "Next time? I'm sorry, but I am not sure this is really my fault..." and she interrupted with "THAT's why I am cancelling it THIS TIME, but NEXT TIME..." with a warning tone like she was punishing a kindergarten child.

Let's break this down. What could she have been deducing about the mistake? Clearly in her mind I had been bored on a Sunday afternoon and created not one, but two reservations on her website, grinning like the Grinch after a snowstorm, anticipating eagerly how much I was going to tick her off with my double reservations. I mean, it really doesn't get much better than that for me. Or maybe I was some political activist funded by CABW (Consumers Against Best Western) and this was another consumer terrorism tactic directed solely at her establishment.

Well really, who knows what she was thinking? All I know is that next time I tried such irresponsible tactics she wasn't going to let me off so easy. My friend suggested that I tell her "THIS TIME I will stay at this hotel, but NEXT TIME...". However, I am not as smart as him, nor as witty, and probably would have delivered it with the grace of a drunken casino player from down the street.

Next let's consider Ms. USA Airport Security and her little friend.

As I approached the USA security gates (you know, the area where they make you take off your shoes and look very serious as you empty your pockets and turn on your laptops to prove they still work), a young woman sat perched on a table looking extremely bored and smug. Beside her was a friend who, while dressed in a uniform similar to hers, was clearly on her dinner break as evidenced by the pile of fast food cartons and related litter sitting on the table beside her. Actually, I think Ms. USAAS was also chomping down on a burger when I approached. She considered me briefly, appearing about as insulted as possible with my inconsiderate breach of her snacking, and asked for my boarding pass and ID. I handed her my passport (which has expired but hasn't yet been replaced) and she looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, looked at me and then scrawled across my boarding pass "NO ID".

Well isn't that excellent? I could just imagine what would happen when I tried to pass with that. Hello, yellow alert, cavity search, maybe a dismantling of my luggage. I suggested to her that I did have ID, which she had just reviewed, and she said "It's expired!". We bantered a little bit about why that was even relevant, and she suggested it was actually illegal to carry (not true) and I said, "Well it's still me!". She spits at me "Well don't even show it to me!". Anyways, I asked her if she would like to see my other ID and her friend chimes in with a grimace "Oh, is that expired as well?". At which point I realized the gauntlet had been firmly placed on the ground and she had moved her unwilling body clearly across a line. I opened fire (against my better judgement) and explained with clarity exactly how I felt about their less than dismal attitudes and marched along without waiting for either of them to approve my admission.

Now let's contemplate Ms. USAAS. Perhaps she was feeling irritated because her blood sugar just rushed from the culinary masterpiece she was devouring. Maybe she was in the midst of a discussion about her 49-year old deadbeat boyfriend and his wife. Maybe she was too young and unworldly to realize how mature she could appear if she were even the slightest fraction of professional. Maybe noone around her cared. Maybe she didn't like my suit, or my shoes, or it made her feel big to make me look small.

Whatever the case, she made herself look foolish, but I suspect she didn't care. Certainly she and Ms. Burger Chomper had a sneer about it shortly after and confirmed that I was indeed a stupid beeyatch and they felt strong together for having a common enemy. Whatever the case may be, I hope they got something out of it for all the energy they expended being intolerable.

I have concluded that it takes more energy and strength of character to maintain an even keel and pleasant demeanour in the face of all circumstances. Those individuals who are able to master this talent usually become promoted into more senior positions that don't involve customer interaction and therefore the leftover position is filled by one of the Nasties.

I have also concluded that reacting to a Nasty really doesn't make me feel much better and in fact I kick myself later, realizing what a chump I was. But man it feels good at the time to just stick it to the man, or woman, or whatever.