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June 14, 2010
reflections during a stabby afternoon at home depot
The employees at my local Home Depot have clearly been told to let no customer walk fifteen feet without being bombarded with offers of help. Once in a while is fine, especially if I look confused, but they are relentless and indiscriminate.
"HiWelcometoHomeDepotHowCanIHelpYou?"
"Hi," I say, walking a third foot into the store.
"HiWelcometoHomeDepotHowCanIHelpYou?"
"Hi," I say, walking a seventh. And then I jog a little. Faster target, harder to hit.
When you're an English major trying to calculate how many beams, brackets and screws your new fence will require, three interruptions is a lethal dose. But seriously, what's the point of asking a customer who's looking at paint tiles how you can help him? Does that not invite exchanges like these?
"How can I help you?"and
"Yes. Can you tell me where your paint tiles are?"
"Uh, right here?"
"Then I guess you can't help."
"How can I help you?"Both of which occurred within minutes of one another. Like a bad trial attorney, they never ask yes or no questions. It's never "good morning" or "this is my department, so give me a holler if you need anything." It's "What are you looking for, and what project are you doing?"
"Yes. Can you pick a color that matches my bathroom vanity?"
"Uh."
"Then why did you ask?"
"I'm remodeling my basement. You remember that dungeon in Pulp Fiction?" I said in my imagination, just now, too late.
I decided to complain about the constant interruptions. Ironically, the manager kept me waiting ten minutes. "I'd like to give you some customer feedback," I said. "It's obvious that there's an initiative for the employees to ask us if we need help, but they really need to dial it back. I can't walk fifteen feet without being interrupted. That's not helping me. It's distracting and exhausting. It's well intentioned, but it's just too much."
He winced at me with a disdain I'm reserving for when Dex craps in my creme brulee. Clearly, this stupid customer knows nothing about the customer service that he requires. "I'm sorry my employees disturbed you," he sniffed sarcastically and slowly walked away.
Wow. W-o-w. Condescended to by a 60-something still working at Home Depot. Ask me what you can do for me now, motherfucker.
Reason having failed, I now employ strategy. My phone is on my ear the whole time, which helps. I avoid the center aisle, which has become a gauntlet indistinguishable from a swirling swarm of strippers aggressively offering a lap dance. And our role is exactly the same: "No, thank you. No, thank you. No, thank you. No, thank you. Seriously, can I just have two minutes to myself?"
And like strippers, I'm sure the Home Depot employees are all really college students that like us every bit as as much as they purport to. The only difference between those wearing an orange apron and those donning a g-string? The strippers know better than to interrupt your phone calls with their unwelcome offers.
posted by john at 8:33 AM • permalink