I'll let you in on a secret. More than half the reason I patron Whole Foods and Trader Joe's is for the food samples. I love food samples. Since I usually forget the cardinal rule, "Don't go grocery shopping when you're hungry", it's great to have something to cut the hunger so I don't go and buy dozens of chocolate bars. Of course, the only problem with this plan is that I usually end up buying the sample. Oh well. Usually, the sample stations are an oasis of calm in the otherwise hectic store. A very cheerful server will explain what's in the sample, and the customers will smile, take a moment, and enjoy their treats.
Not today, alas. Today, at Whole Foods, I was enjoying a bean/bacon/something or other (Southwestern?) mix, and another customer came up.
"Some bean/bacon/something or other mix, sir?", the server asked politely. Mind you, he wasn't actually saying something or other - I just forgot what I was eating.
"What the hell is this?" the customer demanded. The server patiently started to list all of the ingredients. He had been doing this for every customer in case there was something in there that someone couldn't eat.
"I didn't ask for a list of ingredients," the customer continued. "I just want to know what the hell you call this thing."
At that moment, a crowd had gathered around the sample station. They were looking back and forth between the angry customer and the server like they were watching a tennis match.
"I'm sorry sir," the server said politely. "It's called the Southwestern bean mix." (Or something like that.)
"Dammit!" the customer exploded. "I sure as hell don't want it NOW!" He stormed out, and everyone just stood there, awkwardly.
Finally, I stepped up, thanked him, and said I would like to purchase the sample.
Not today, alas. Today, at Whole Foods, I was enjoying a bean/bacon/something or other (Southwestern?) mix, and another customer came up.
"Some bean/bacon/something or other mix, sir?", the server asked politely. Mind you, he wasn't actually saying something or other - I just forgot what I was eating.
"What the hell is this?" the customer demanded. The server patiently started to list all of the ingredients. He had been doing this for every customer in case there was something in there that someone couldn't eat.
"I didn't ask for a list of ingredients," the customer continued. "I just want to know what the hell you call this thing."
At that moment, a crowd had gathered around the sample station. They were looking back and forth between the angry customer and the server like they were watching a tennis match.
"I'm sorry sir," the server said politely. "It's called the Southwestern bean mix." (Or something like that.)
"Dammit!" the customer exploded. "I sure as hell don't want it NOW!" He stormed out, and everyone just stood there, awkwardly.
Finally, I stepped up, thanked him, and said I would like to purchase the sample.
Some Philadelphians need to CHILL OUT. Your city is lucky to have you to balance out the level of bat- %&$& crazy behavior.
ReplyDeleteI know! And they call this the City of Brotherly Love??
DeleteThis incident is exactly why I think everyone should work in a customer services job for at least a month. Then you can know exactly what others who work in service jobs go through. People are rude, unappreciative and downright crazy. I am SO glad you bought the sample....dinner party?!
ReplyDelete