The current state of retail customer service in the United States is such that one can go into any retail chain in the country, take a shit on the floor in the middle of the Seasonal section, and the Store Manager will feel obligated to bring you a Wet-Nap.
** If you like young girls with Daddy issues from Central America that'll overlook your bald head or small penis because you're in a position of power, then consider a career in retail management. So... So I've heard.
And it's not because they are genuinely concerned about your asshole chafing. They are concerned about you not coming back.
Or --God forbid-- making a customer service complaint. Aye, there's the rub.
I was a retail manager for Woolworth's in the mid-80's, and back then customer service meant unlocking the doors and having someone run a register. Indeed, my 70-year-old customer service manager measured the relative success or failure of her day with how many returns she denied.
"Can I help you? You don't like the way you're treated in my store? Fuck you. Woolworth's is the biggest retailer in this state. Where else are you going to go?*"
Then, someone somewhere realized that the retail market is saturated, so growing a loyal customer base was key to profitability. Yay, profitability.
So, where does one start?
Make the parking lot attractive and friendly?
Fuck you, we need as many spots as we can for Black Friday!!! We don't want our customers to buy the $199.99 TV that we're losing $45.00 a unit sale on anywhere else!
Make the storefront signage more welcoming?
No, fuck you. The signage will always be Buy This, Buy That, We're Open Until 9:30.
I'm pushing a double-stroller and holding another kid's hand. How about automatic doors, like in every grocery store since 1967?
No. Fuck you, that'd cost, like, money.
Um, is there any weekend sales help that wasn't born exactly 16 years ago?
What? Fuck you, adult employees cost, like, money. Plus I'm banging that Columbian chick on register 5.**
Can you check this price for me?
No. Fuck you.
Do you have more of these in the back?
No. Fuck you.
Are you expecting more in?
I dunno. Fuck you.
Can I have one of those Customer Comment cards?
No. Fuc... Wait, what?!?? No, please, how can I help you? Did you want a managers discount on that? Here, just take it. Please?!?! (whispering) I... I can, like, blow you, if you want.
To be continued.