Fakin' It...

If there's one thing in this that I absolutely can not stand, it's insincerity.

Throughout my seven years with the company I work at, I've come to learn that there are a lot of fake bastards in this world. And, ya know, I won't lie: I have my moments where I simply don't give two shits about how your great nephew is having his Bar Mitzvah ("Mazel Tov!!") at a hotel in Maumee or how your wife cheated on you and need a place to have revenge sex ("Oh, um, I'm very sorry to hear that, sir. But I was told that you needed a mini-fridge in your room to store medication for your Diabetes...") with some hot bitches in a hot tub with spray jets, but I'll still give you service with a smile.

Truth be told, it's not easy trying to maintain my "phone smile" at all times (riiiiiiiiiiight). Sometimes, I just want to say to them, "yeah, you're a fucking moron and you're parents should be shot for having such stupid-ass, useless, impotent offspring.

It wasn't always like this.

I remember when I was first hired, seven years (shoot me, please...someone!!), the HR dude who was interviewing me asked me what the phrase "customer service" meant to me. My answer: The customer is always right!

Sigh. So young. So naive.

I'm surprised my interviewer didn't throw his head back and cackle maniacally. After seven years, this is what I've learned: The customer is wrong. Always. Wrong. The customer is evil and will lie, cheat, steal, rape and pillage to get what they want out of you. And then they will spit at you for being their bitch after they've used you as far as they can. Their worst offense, though, is insincerity. My least favorite customers have always been the ones that act all pleasant as apple pie until you say "no." And once you tell them "no," they bare their fangs and eat you alive.

Truth be told, I would much rather have a guy or gal who is a dick or a bitch from start to finish as a customer. At least they're consistent and I know that no matter how much I try and amp up the neurotic, Jewish (read: self-deprecating) charm, they're going to treat me like the worthless, pathetic piece of shit I know they think I am (whew!). At least they're keeping it real!! They hate my guts. I'm absolutely indifferent about theirs. It's a rock-solid relationship, if you ask me.

The biggest irritation I have of all--and it's like an oversize, swelling hemorrhoid in my ass--is when a customer--or anyone for that matter, asks me how I'm doing and (RRRRRRAWWWRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!) continues talking without even giving me a second to give them the insincere (and let's face it, flat-out untrue) response of "I'm terrific!!!" or "Very well." It's gotten to the point where I will actually start talking over them really loudly with my answer and they'll be like, "what's that, now?" and I'll say, "well you asked me how I'm doing, so I was telling you." It's kind of fun listening to them getting flustered over the phone. They're robots and I've thrown them a bit of improv that they don't have a built-in response to. Nice!!

Look, I know they don't want to hear that I'm unhappy with my current station in life, at the moment. I mean, shit! I wouldn't wanna hear that bullshit either. How fuckin' awkward, right?!?! I'd be like, dude! You don't need a reservation! You need the help of a good psychiatric professional!! I mean, I get it. You're calling for a service that I provide you with. I give. You take. That's how it works.

But fuck, man! Would it kill you to stop for two seconds of your busy, ass-kissing, social-climbing, philandering life to let me say the following words in response to your half-hearted attempt to get to know me:

"I'm working on it. Thanks for asking."

All's I got.

Now, is there anything else I can help you with? No? Well, you have a terrific day and thank you for choosing Neurotica!!