As I was typing my last post, something blue flashed across
my screen. It was square, and I recognized a couple shapes at the bottom as
options, probably yes or no. But that was it. At the very moment the box
appeared, I had pressed the Enter key to start the next paragraph, confirming
whatever action that was going to take place. I sat and contemplated what it
could have been, but since nothing had happened, I just continued on. I wrote a
really good post about the 9th step, and ended it with a quote from
Ralph Waldo Emerson. It was beautiful writing, and I thought one of my best
posts. And as I typed the very last word, my computer restarted without
warning, and began a two-hour process of updating my system and installing
Windows 10. Actually, failing to install Windows 10. I sat in disbelief, and
then just laughed about it. There’s no point in getting flustered, angry, or
upset about something that’s out of my control. I waited two hours and retyped
the post, but it was not as good.
And that’s sort of what this post is about. Last night I
went into a Walmart to buy a new phone. First thing I noticed was that I wasn’t
greeted. Never mind that, I wanted a phone. I made my way through the droves of
Somalian women wearing Walmart vests and gathered in groups talking to each
other. I don’t believe it’s racist to observe and mention something, so I’ll
continue along here. I got to the electronics department where nobody offered
any help. I selected the card that corresponded with the new phone that I
wanted, and I proceeded to the checkout. That’s where I was greeted by the
rudest, possibly the dumbest, man I’ve ever come across in the employ of any managed
department store. He was of Arab descent and when he was finished with the
gentleman in front of me, shouted over him at me, “What?”
I’m sure I looked confused. It was if I had encountered a
character actor of “Rude Salesperson.” I asked, “What?”
“What you want?”
“Me?”
Then he just pointed at the card I had in my hand. I said, “Oh,
yeah I just want to buy this phone.” I handed him the card, and he looked it
over. This would not be an easy task. He opened the cabinets, drawers, and
cupboards, or whatever terms they use for those things when they aren’t in a
kitchen. He couldn’t find it and management had not yet entrusted him with a
key to the secret drawers below the display shelves. We all know those secret
drawers. I think maybe one of them has candy in it. I like candy.
Back on track. He saw a cluster of Somalian women
approaching which had now grown to include non-employee friends and he yelled
over to them, “Give me your key!” There was no please, but his voice was angry. No doubt he despised asking a
female supervisor for help. The woman walked over without hesitation and gave
him her entire cluster of keys. I highly doubt that is in the Walmart handbook.
With not so much as a nod, he opened up the drawer and pulled out a phone. He
handed it to me and I stated, “Nope. That’s not the one.” He took it back and
shuffled through the drawer of phones. He dug one after the other out and handed
them all to me. Clearly he had no idea what he was doing. I showed him how all
of the pictures looked similar but the name of the phone was at the bottom of
each box. It didn’t matter. He would hand me phone after phone until finally he
got it right. He rung it up, shoved it in a bag, and did not hand it to me. He
simply shouted over my shoulder, “What?”
Is it the cities? Are people just rude here? I think so.
Customer service seems to be a lost art. This includes restaurants, too. I’ve
not had one experience since my release where I left thinking, “Wow that was an
amazing server!” People just don’t care anymore. At least there wasn’t the presumptuous
tip jar next to the register at Walmart.
Don’t worry white people, you’re rude, too. But this story
wasn’t about you.
