My People and Customer Service...WHY??? (Pt. 2)

Somewhere in the midst of my almost 25 years on this earth, I was either dropped on my head or maybe someone wacked with a bat or some other blunt object. Obviously, whatever happened to me didn't cause death, but it did damage just a tiny portion of my brain that stores the reasoning and short term memory capabilities. Clearly, this is what had to have happened, because I keep walking into the same situations repeatedly. It's as if I didn't learn from the previous experience or maybe somehow my brain just keeps wiping the slate clean after each encounter, so I end up going into a situation, like I don't not know what to expect. So, I am taking responsibility for my own foolishness first, but in no way will I assume the blame for every messed up encounter I experience.

With that said, allow me to first offer a brief history, before I bring you up to speed with my latest encounter at Subway (the sandwhich chain). Now, many of you may or may not know that I've had a long standing love hate relationship with the sandwhich chain that dates back to 2000, the year I really became a serious Subway sandwhich eater. I was in my second year of undergrad (in Claremont, CA). I had just bought my first car (White 1994 Hyundai Excel 2-D hatchback) and I was so happy to be independently mobile. It was the greatest feeling on earth; and that car was like a first born child to me. Oh how I miss that car so much, but I digress. Having a car meant that I go and come as I please, and I no longer had to eat in one of the five Claremont Colleges dining halls. I could go to Los Jarritos for tacos without having to convince one of my mobile friends to go too, so that I could catch a ride.

Well anyways, there was a Subway located five minutes away from campus that became, at first a very close friend. See, I didn't have much money, in fact, I didn't have any money, so my meal excursions had to be THC (tasty, healthy and cheap). In later years, as I've become quite the busy diva, my meals must be THC-Q (tasty, health, cheap & quick). Subway, met all of those requirements, so we were cool for some time.

It wasn't until that faithful day that I walked into Subway in March 2000, just a little before the lunchtime rush. I was the only customer in the restaurant. The young white woman behind the counter prepared my sandwhich (then, a cold cut trio on wheat) while I watched another employee prepare the food containers along the bar for what would be a crowd. Now, I need you all to visualize what I am going to explain next, because I don't know the appropriate words to use and I really want you to fully understand what occurred.

Now, you all know how Subway has the bar cooler in which you select your meats and veggies. Inside of that bar is water, to keep the veggies and meat cool and/or warm as appropriate. The containers are filled with the food and sit in the bar cooler on the water. (Got it!) The other employee, in her haste to prepare for the lunch rush, lifted out the chicken breast container (which she was full), took an empty container, dipped it into the water in the bar cooler and poored it over the chicken breasts. Is your face looking as disgusted as mine was when I witnessed that foul shit?? Nasty...right!

Well, in my disbelief, I said to her...why would you do that? She looked at me and said, well the chicken breasts require water. I said ok, but why would you take water from inside of the cooler which the containers sit in, instead of getting it from the faucet. Well its clean, was her response. I said, but its nasty, people have to eat that. She responded with much attitude, well you didn't get a chicken breast, so not to worry! I said, you're right I didn't get a chicken breast sandwhich and I never will. She just shrugged her shoulders unmoved. Therein began the demise in my relationship with Subway. I never went back to that Subway establishment. Over the next few years, I still ate at Subway, very infrequently, but I never got the chicken breast sandwhich either.

Fast forward to 2003 and a move back to my hometown of Chicago, IL. Subway and I, mostly due to financial reasons, became friends again. Our full reunion was a pleasant and seemingly long overdue one. I was once again happy with the Subway and had vowed to leave my grudge behind. I was in a new place and it seemed most fitting that I start over with the chain, afterall I had totally revamped my eating habits.

All was well, until one faithful August 2004 afternoon, when I realized that me and the chain may once again find ourselves at odds. (See: My People and Customer Service...WHY???) This time, the issue wouldn't be one of unsanitary food practice, but one of poor customer service practice.

I have since come to realize that this issue of customer service is a recurring and problematic theme in my relationship with Subway, hence my opening paragraph. Since my Subway encounter in August, I have had several awful experiences at multiple Subways. See, I may not have learned my lesson about the sandwhich chain in general, but I've learned to not keep patronizing the same one. However, the issues I experience remain the same at each Subway where I encounter my people preparing food.

Today, was my third experience within this past month, where I've had to get into my car and look at myself in the mirror because now I'm wondering is it me? Talk to me...are other people having these issues ar Subway? Now, I'd like to believe that I am a pleasant young woman, especially when I go in seeking service from someone preparing my food. My daddy always said, don't mess with people making your food. I always say please and thank you, hell, I've even picked up a few yes mams and no sirs along the way. So, I don't get why it is this keeps happening to me.

As I said in my last entry on customer service, I understand more than I can convey and even more than a service worker would suspect, how difficult it is to be on the frontlines of customer service. Not to be trite, but I too have had my share of customer service positions. I worked at Kmart, Robinson's May, Lane Bryant and NSCPAS theatre box office. Though, I've never worked in food service and yes that was conscious choice, I do understand that serving people is difficult. I GET IT!

I also realize that I'm not the average black girl. Yeah, my parents carefully named me Maegen (a very uncommon name in our community) and my dialect may be extremely proper (indicating that by no uncertain terms is my status hood), however, don't write me off as some prep school bitch. Don't treat me as if the battle you wage in your job everyday is with me or even with people like me. Believe it or not, the customer isn't always the enemy. Yeah, you will serve some rude, obnoxious, nasty people, but that isn't everyone.

I mean, all I did was ask the sista was the Chili beef based. Ok, looking back, I don't know what I was thinking. I was in Subway, of course the chili was beef based. It ain't like it would have been tofu or soy substitute. That would have been a bit much for that kind of establishment. However, I asked the question anyway, because it could have very well been veggie chili. Well, you would have thought that I asked that woman to go to the store, by the ingredients, and make me some vegetarian friendly chili. She shrugged her shoulders, sighed a deep sigh, crained her neck and told me she don't know. Then hastily and tired like said again, I'm really sorry mam but I just don't know! I mean major attitude accompanied her response! I was like...dammit, not again!

In addition to what I said in my previous post about the nature of the service industry and those who are unfortunately limited to finding their livelihood within that sector, I also believe that we (Black people and our community) are walking around with some serious fuckin' baggage. This baggage, whether it be the build up of centuries of oppression trickling down across generations or some plain old baby mama, baby daddy drama; we are toting around bags and bags full of hurt, anger, frustration and down right beligerence. I mean, we can't even discern the difference between rude and not rude. We can't even adjust our attitudes to match the scenario. We are on serious bitch alert 24/7. That's not good! It's not good at all. It's making our lives miserable.

I know that our community outlook is often so grim, that it hardly seems worth it to make an effort, but I am a firm believer that we just have to do better. We have to try! We have to get help! I ask this not for my comfort, but for the sake of our collective mental health! We have to be better with each other!

-M