Friday, February 3, 2012

Missive to a Customer

Dear Sir,

Thank you for your patronage in our store. I appreciate that you are willing to come out on this fine evening to buy books at our establishment, even if it means leaving your wife and children to wait in the car. You spent a sum of money here that, while not extravagant, is not trifling either. But sir, I must tell you one thing that I could not while wearing my employee name tag.


You may look in the mirror and see the same virile, young stud that you were in college, and assume that I see the same thing. Or perhaps you see more of a suave silver fox, a la George Clooney. Perhaps you note my polite smiles and assume I'm charmed by your leering looks and cheesy pickup lines.


You see, sir, you are the customer; therefore, I am required by my boss to be unfailing helpful and courteous no matter what kind of shenanigans you pull. However, the customer is not always right. Given the scale of your delusions, I would say that you personally are very rarely right. My helpfulness is not subtle flirting; it's my calculated attempt to keep my minimum-wage job. You may think of yourself as prime material, but I see a man who in all likelihood is a few years older than my own father.

To recap, you see this:
George Clooney,

I see this:
Old man,

You see a Don Juan; I see a skeevy guy with a mid-life crisis. You see a nice counter, perfect for leaning intimately; I see a space of cheap wood that should be much, much wider.

So please, feel free to shop with us again, but next time bring your wife inside with you.

Shelver 506