So there I was at the local Woolies, trying to do my long overdue grocery shopping, and as I joined the queue with my quarter-full trolley when a sweet floor manager invited me to join the ‘baskets only’ line, coz my trolley was so empty, plus there was only one person in the ‘baskets only’ line, as opposed to the 7 or so in the trolley lane.
I was quite grateful for his intervention, because I wasn’t feeling well at all, and I quickly shifted to the other queue.The customer before me finished, so I rolled up my trolley, and begin unloading my stuff.
Halfway thru, the woman behind the till asks me whether I realise that this is a ‘baskets only’ line. I explained that actually, I was originally in the other queue, but was shifted by her colleague. She asks me who exactly. So I look around, don’t see him, and explained again how I landed in her queue. Then she proceeds to lecture me about how customers always complain if a trolley joins the basket queue – blah blah blah - and this is when my head starts pounding FOR REAL, and I start wondering what exactly is going on with this woman, coz she is HOSTILE and actually lecturing me about a non-issue (seeing as I’m alone in this line, who exactly is going to complain…?)
Hanging onto my temper for all I’m worth, I repeat ‘Aus’ – I already explained all this to you. I’m not sure why I’m getting this lecture and attitude. Plus I don’t feel too well, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to just drop it.’ IYO! That was fuel to the burning flame! She goes on and on and on about it, until I snap at her I explained the situation to her twice already, and that unless she drops the topic, I’m calling the manager – and her response it – ‘CALL HIM!’ (and don’t you know this B!TCH continues to lecture me as she rings up my groceries…o, my pounding head!)
So once I’ve paid for my groceries and am leaving, I bump into the guy who shifted me to that wretched woman’s queue – and in response to his bright smile, I say ‘Listen, thanks for the favour, but next time just leave me to chill in the long queue, I’m better off there than receiving this woman’s horrific service’.
With great concern on his face (phela, the brother was trying to help me out, and here I am, biting his head off), he asks me what happened. I relate the story – and he calls the manager in a resigned and fed-up tone – ‘Abut’ Max - uSindi futhi’ (fake names to protect the innocent and the wretchedly guilty) and I repeat my tale of woe. They were both super-sweet, and SCANDALISED when I told them the story, (especially the part when she challenged me to call the manager).
They call her over to explain, and predictably, she upped her attitude even more and the horrified manager explained patiently to her that it was just WRONG to talk to a customer that way – needless to say, she would not apologise – so I ended up filling in a complaint form, and both managers assured me that disciplinary action would be taken. It’s interesting to me that the entire time of the confrontation, the staff looked on sympathetically nodding their heads, and from the way they behaved, it was clear to me that this woman is a problem child. …
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Now this is one of those times (and I said it to both managers and this horrific woman) that I just KNOW she would NEVER behave like this to a white person. But because I’m a black woman, about the same age group she is, she thinks she can carry on like this.
So. What are your tales of terrible and disrespectful treatment at the hands of bad service, people?
Do you think it’s a race thing (ie, black on black haterism) or am I being paranoid – is bad service just South African thing?
let's talk....