She stormed out of the office, eyes blazing. Her children - and her human hair curls with their bouncing reflecting each of her angry footsteps - trailing behind her.
Sigh. Another satisfied customer.
I'm not what some people would call a "people person." I mean, I do OK, but patience is not a virtue that I was born with. So every once in awhile, when I look at my name and title posted outside my office door, I marvel that I could have a job with the words Customer Relations in it. This particular customer has been in and out of my office on and off for 5 months. And today I almost lost it.
We had reached that point in a conversation where both our voices were getting a little louder, temperatures a little higher. Luckily, she (or maybe I) was saved when a co-worker brought me the keys to lock the doors. (Side note: Our office closes at 4. For those of you who know Germans, they GET OFF when the office closes. That means at 4:00:01 they are walking out of the door. It is now 4:15. Unacceptable.) I welcomed his interruption, because I was about to go where a professional woman, especially one with Customer Relations written outside her door should go.
In journalism, for the most part, it's OK to be a little mean. And you're expected to be pushy. But this alternate universe I'm living in is really pushing the limits of what I'm used to.
But I will resist the urge to ask her why she waited until 5 minutes before closing before she brought this SAME, long, ridiculous situation to me AGAIN. And I won't even say that I'm not a doctor, so why are you trying to give me all of your medical records? And I definitely won't tell her that if she has a problem she can go back to the states.
But if you see her, you can tell her for me.