I’ve been quite fortunate with customer service. The people at the supermarket are generally nice – that is to say, I know the nice ones and try to get their checkouts. Idle chitchat stays close to the weather and the wishing of a good day (or evening, as the case may be).
I sometimes give a bit of frown or yawn and it seems to indicate, I don’t want a nice long conversation. I want to pay for my items and go.
Which brings me to my pet shopping dislike.
I am pretending to be shopping right now. Okay, so I have two bottles of nail polish on the counter. There is a pair of boots, a lip balm and a pretty handbag. And yet. The girl behind the counter glances at it, starting the scanning, and says, ‘Is there anything else?’
This is where manners kick in. Every time, I will politely shake my head. I will withdraw my method of paying and do so.
I always refrain from saying ‘No, can’t you see the big stack of invisible items I’ve secretly piled up? When you weren’t looking?’ If I’m feeling extra ratty, I’ll mentally list all the other invisible items on the counter: a couch, a dining table, maybe some bookcases. But my parents like manners, and so do I, so I’m always on my best behaviour.
This is my worst customer-service complaint, so I’m lucky.
But good grief, it’s annoying.