![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Customer Service Fairy Tales
Feb. 10th, 2019 11:39 amThere was a post on tumblr at some point (please don't make me track it down right now) that talked about how the internet, and relationships with people on it, is a bit like fairies and fairy tales. The dangers of giving out your true name, mostly. The arcane rules. How you can seem to get trapped and lose time there. Which, yes, absolutely legit. That being said, I have a vague idea about a variation: customer service.
Only I'm not sure if we're the fae creatures, or if the customers are.
Having a customer ask for your name is one of the most terrifying experiences. Sure, every now and then they want to leave a nice review that mentions you by name. This has even happened--more than once!--to someone I know. Usually, though, it is the beginning of A Complaint To Your Manager. Alternatively, I have a pair of customers who have just...straight up given me a new name. I remind them of a young relative (these are, of course, older white people of a certain temperament), so they just started calling me by this other person's name. The mind boggles. That's not exactly a know fairy tale event, as far as I know, but it sure seems like it should be.
Arcane rituals of politeness must be observed, or you will end up cursed. Certain phrases hold mystical power. People often appear to be in a trance and will behave strangely; sometimes you can trick them into things just by planting suggestions at the right time.
Time moves strangely in most customer service workplaces. It stretches and compresses according to the needs of narrative, rather than by any physical laws or, hah!, the needs of the people working there. An eight-hour shift has the ability to consume approximately three months of your lifespan, while half-hour manager meetings will absolutely spit you out into a different decade than the one you left behind. It is always both ALREADY two o'clock and ONLY JUST two o'clock.
I don't know, it's a work in progress. I'm convinced that most workplaces are, if nothing else, liminal spaces to one extent or another. Customer service is a very shitty adventure story.
[ETA: never mind, of course I went and found it, what is time anyway?]
Only I'm not sure if we're the fae creatures, or if the customers are.
Having a customer ask for your name is one of the most terrifying experiences. Sure, every now and then they want to leave a nice review that mentions you by name. This has even happened--more than once!--to someone I know. Usually, though, it is the beginning of A Complaint To Your Manager. Alternatively, I have a pair of customers who have just...straight up given me a new name. I remind them of a young relative (these are, of course, older white people of a certain temperament), so they just started calling me by this other person's name. The mind boggles. That's not exactly a know fairy tale event, as far as I know, but it sure seems like it should be.
Arcane rituals of politeness must be observed, or you will end up cursed. Certain phrases hold mystical power. People often appear to be in a trance and will behave strangely; sometimes you can trick them into things just by planting suggestions at the right time.
Time moves strangely in most customer service workplaces. It stretches and compresses according to the needs of narrative, rather than by any physical laws or, hah!, the needs of the people working there. An eight-hour shift has the ability to consume approximately three months of your lifespan, while half-hour manager meetings will absolutely spit you out into a different decade than the one you left behind. It is always both ALREADY two o'clock and ONLY JUST two o'clock.
I don't know, it's a work in progress. I'm convinced that most workplaces are, if nothing else, liminal spaces to one extent or another. Customer service is a very shitty adventure story.
[ETA: never mind, of course I went and found it, what is time anyway?]
