Call it what you will but I have little patience for people who are rude, ill-mannered, lacking social graces or etiquette. I went to vote at the crack of dawn on polling day, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, only to be confronted by a wrinkly old sour puss of a polling clerk. He beckoned me forward with a shake of his clawed hand and could not be bothered to say good morning or even make a sound to indicate that he was still alive. I wish I had brought a mirror with me and stuck it under his nose. I could excuse the old geezer being exhausted at the end of a longing polling day but this was five minutes after the station opened.
I’m sure you have all encountered the arrogant waiter in restaurants who believes he is doing you a favor by serving you and then wonders why you chose to leave him a derisory 5% tip. We usually celebrate our wedding anniversary over a candlelit dinner at one of the many restaurants in the city, and on this occasion I chose the restaurant which was a big mistake!
I decided to take my wife to a highly rated steak restaurant, but unfortunately the testosterone was dripping down the walls the moment we arrived. The restaurant featured an al a carte menu and I naturally ordered their signature steak with French fries and grilled mushrooms as my over priced side dishes. The steak duly turned up but with a plate of onion rings in place of the fries.
- “Excuse me waiter, but I ordered fries not onion rings.”
- He replied: “You ordered onion rings Sir, but I will reluctantly change them for fries if you so wish.”
- “I don’t like onion rings so why would I order them?”
- The mealy mouthed waiter was determined to have the last word: “Whatever!”
We once visited a restaurant in South Carolina and the “maitre de” was armed with a warped sense of humor. He greeted us at the entrance with a disarming $2 smile and asked: “Smoking or non smoking?” Having never succumbed to the evil weed I naturally chose non smoking and he promptly directed us to a table which was immediately adjacent to a table of chimney stacks.
- “Herr, hmm, perhaps you didn’t hear me properly but we want a table in the non-smoking section.”
- “You are in non-smoking Sir which just happens to be juxtaposed to the smoking section.
- “You can’t be serious:” I protested with as much conviction as Charlie Sheen on the sanctity of marriage.
- “I have to draw a line somewhere and I can’t afford to have a void between sections, so you just happen to be sitting on the Mendoza.”
- Not to be considered churlish, we followed the theme and ordered the smoked salmon and suggested that the “maitre de” put it in his pipe and smoke it and left the establishment in a proverbial cloud!
I work with a bunch of guys who at various times of the day are determined to test my resolve while trapped together in the restricted confines of a SUV. While one hapless avenger is slapping his lips eating a fast food item of dubious quality, his cohort is feverishly slurping his beverage, and they invariably complete my nightmare by sucking their teeth in unison to relieve their cavities of food particles and other unmentionables. I suppose I could be considered impatient and a little intolerant, but I can’t abide poor table manners.
My contempt for flight attendants is well documented in previous posts, but now I have to add another group of malcontents to the wall of shame: car dealership employees with one or two redeemable exceptions. The number of times I have to pick up a vehicle from a dealership for a customer only to be told that it is in clean up and will be ready in 20 minutes. These people are trapped in a time warp because more often than not twenty minutes translates to 2 hours.
It was 11.30am one sunny morning when I arrived at a car dealership with a contact name to acquire a vehicle only to be informed by the receptionist that the gentleman was at lunch.
- I enquired: “What time will he back from lunch?”
- The receptionist replied: “3.30pm give or take a cocktail or two.”
- Unable to control my frustration I replied: “four hours for lunch?”
- “It’s a working lunch” explained the tiresome, mascara laden receptionist.
- “It doesn’t work for me:” I exclaimed desperately trying to control my emotions.
- She asked contemptuously: “Did you have an appointment?”
- “Not at a precise time but he was expecting me to pick up the vehicle around noon.”
- “There’s nobody else who can help you, so come back late this afternoon. But call in advance just in case he’s with another customer.”
The irony of this unfortunate episode was not lost on me. While clicking my heels for twenty minutes at reception I glanced around the dealership and observed a distinct lack of fellow customers, but I counted approximately 20-25 employees idly positioned, picking their noses, filing their nails or chewing the fat with a fellow co-worker oblivious to my plight.
I maybe old school, but I appreciate service with a smile. I like people to say thank you when I hold a door open for them. I appreciate an acknowledgement from another driver when I allow him into the line of traffic. In this depressed economy, one would assume airlines and car dealerships to make a greater effort to treat their customers with courtesy and respect, but it was obviously not included on the course curriculum of whatever “charm school” they attended.
