Customer Service
My weekends are usually devoted to being a fashion slave. Which is to say, as an artist, I support myself by working casually in fashion retail.
It's serfdom in designer lables.
I'm always amused by reading articles in magazines or newspapers, or overhearing conversations where people complain of the crappy customer service they receive in boutiques.
I, myself, give superlative service. But only to customers I like. And that's the crux of the matter. You see, no matter how hard you try, most customers are already forwarned and armed about crappy service and the holier than thou 'tude of the retail consultant. They expect weals of mass instruction as they cross the threshhold and so launch a preemptive strike. It's called treat the retail consultant like a piece of anoying talking decor, or just ignore them all together. A cheery hello is greeted with stoney indifference. I swear, about 70% of people become deaf soon as they walk through the door. And the music is not that loud.
I take my role as retail therapist very seriously indeed. So the apparent deafness is a cause of concern and the severity of the condition must be promptly assessed. The most affective way to do this to simply repeat your initial cheery greeting with exactly the same intonation, but in a louder voice. About 50% of customers will respond the second time round. Some even display a bit of emotion. For the remaining 50% obviously the deafness is congenital but you still need to communicate a cheery hello. Sadly, I am deficient in Auslan, or any other internationally recognised sign language. But I've found the the two person greeting role play to be a very effective substitute. This is where, after the failure at the second attempt at cheery greeting, you turn to the retail consultant next to you and, once again in the same initial intonation, you give the your coworker a cheery greeting. Then your coworker returns the greeting, neatly reinforcing the notion of welcome to our humble store.
The thing is, after a few years in the rag trade as a rag, you learn very quickly to identify wasted effort and so don't bother. You save your energy for the fun customers. These are are the people who recognise that you're not a brain dead preprogramed zombie with magic powers to sell people things they don't want. That you're actually a real person. And these are the customers retail consultants will do practically anything for. "We don't have it in your size? Just let me check...hmm, yes our store in Perth has that. I'll just arrange a courier to get it here by tomorrow." as opposed to "Oh, I'm sorry, we seem to be all out of that. Such a shame, it would have looked sensational on you!"
I suppose I'm just having a bitch because mostly, fashion retail is boring and involves dealing with a lot of people who only want to interact to ask you stupid questions (why is that if you work in a store you are expected to know where everything is in Sydney?) and ignore you the rest of the time. But occasionally working in a designer lable boutique in Sydney's famed fashion strip can throw up some suprises.
Yes I get to meet famous people. Although strangely I rarely recognise them, they just look kind of familiar, until someone else points out who they are, generally the previously deaf/mute customers, who suddenly become loquacious in the presence of tv/film god/goddess.
But yesterday I encountered a whole new set of suprises. You might say it was the final come down from my New Year's Eve Celebrations. You, see, having come out a winner on the morning of the 2nd of January after hours of dancing and hijinks induced by illicit substances, I promptly put it out of mind that there'd be any consequences other than feeling a little tired.
Until I gave my usual cheery greeting to a customer as they entered the store. You know, they looked kind of familiar, so I wondered vaguely what tv show they must be from. And as they asked me about the clothes I suddenly realised. I snogged you for what seemed like forever, and didn't at some point you put your hands down the back of my pants? I found that I didn't know what was the appropriate social or professional thing to do. I mean do you say, "Gee you're a great kisser"? Or "Remember me?" And by the sheepish way he avoided making eye contact, I could tell that he didn't quite know either. In the end we both just pretended that we hadn't swapped saliva a few days before.
Unfortunately, that customer was hardly the last. I think I was visited by just about every person I snogged that night. And I'd been a busy boy! Even the husband and wife came into the store. I didn't just get the silent treatment from them, they fled within seconds of spotting me.
I pride myself on superlative customer service. This time round, I seemed to have got it wrong and obviously gave the service before the custom. But god it was fun!
It's serfdom in designer lables.
I'm always amused by reading articles in magazines or newspapers, or overhearing conversations where people complain of the crappy customer service they receive in boutiques.
I, myself, give superlative service. But only to customers I like. And that's the crux of the matter. You see, no matter how hard you try, most customers are already forwarned and armed about crappy service and the holier than thou 'tude of the retail consultant. They expect weals of mass instruction as they cross the threshhold and so launch a preemptive strike. It's called treat the retail consultant like a piece of anoying talking decor, or just ignore them all together. A cheery hello is greeted with stoney indifference. I swear, about 70% of people become deaf soon as they walk through the door. And the music is not that loud.
I take my role as retail therapist very seriously indeed. So the apparent deafness is a cause of concern and the severity of the condition must be promptly assessed. The most affective way to do this to simply repeat your initial cheery greeting with exactly the same intonation, but in a louder voice. About 50% of customers will respond the second time round. Some even display a bit of emotion. For the remaining 50% obviously the deafness is congenital but you still need to communicate a cheery hello. Sadly, I am deficient in Auslan, or any other internationally recognised sign language. But I've found the the two person greeting role play to be a very effective substitute. This is where, after the failure at the second attempt at cheery greeting, you turn to the retail consultant next to you and, once again in the same initial intonation, you give the your coworker a cheery greeting. Then your coworker returns the greeting, neatly reinforcing the notion of welcome to our humble store.
The thing is, after a few years in the rag trade as a rag, you learn very quickly to identify wasted effort and so don't bother. You save your energy for the fun customers. These are are the people who recognise that you're not a brain dead preprogramed zombie with magic powers to sell people things they don't want. That you're actually a real person. And these are the customers retail consultants will do practically anything for. "We don't have it in your size? Just let me check...hmm, yes our store in Perth has that. I'll just arrange a courier to get it here by tomorrow." as opposed to "Oh, I'm sorry, we seem to be all out of that. Such a shame, it would have looked sensational on you!"
I suppose I'm just having a bitch because mostly, fashion retail is boring and involves dealing with a lot of people who only want to interact to ask you stupid questions (why is that if you work in a store you are expected to know where everything is in Sydney?) and ignore you the rest of the time. But occasionally working in a designer lable boutique in Sydney's famed fashion strip can throw up some suprises.
Yes I get to meet famous people. Although strangely I rarely recognise them, they just look kind of familiar, until someone else points out who they are, generally the previously deaf/mute customers, who suddenly become loquacious in the presence of tv/film god/goddess.
But yesterday I encountered a whole new set of suprises. You might say it was the final come down from my New Year's Eve Celebrations. You, see, having come out a winner on the morning of the 2nd of January after hours of dancing and hijinks induced by illicit substances, I promptly put it out of mind that there'd be any consequences other than feeling a little tired.
Until I gave my usual cheery greeting to a customer as they entered the store. You know, they looked kind of familiar, so I wondered vaguely what tv show they must be from. And as they asked me about the clothes I suddenly realised. I snogged you for what seemed like forever, and didn't at some point you put your hands down the back of my pants? I found that I didn't know what was the appropriate social or professional thing to do. I mean do you say, "Gee you're a great kisser"? Or "Remember me?" And by the sheepish way he avoided making eye contact, I could tell that he didn't quite know either. In the end we both just pretended that we hadn't swapped saliva a few days before.
Unfortunately, that customer was hardly the last. I think I was visited by just about every person I snogged that night. And I'd been a busy boy! Even the husband and wife came into the store. I didn't just get the silent treatment from them, they fled within seconds of spotting me.
I pride myself on superlative customer service. This time round, I seemed to have got it wrong and obviously gave the service before the custom. But god it was fun!
posted by Van Dino at 10:43 pm
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