Down With the Bad Service

What you need to know:

  • To my way of thinking, everyone should be like those guys who sell DVDs in stalls; polite and helpful. Sometimes almost too helpful.

I have said it before and I will say it again: the standard of customer service in this city is atrocious, contrary to everything we glean from the basic tenets of ethics and humanity.

Let me take you back two weeks when I was in town shopping for a phone. Most of the shops were staffed with pretty girls wearing astounding amounts of neon makeup who stood around popping gum, gossiping, and barely acknowledging my presence.

To further irritate me, the girls seemed to know little to nothing about what they were selling. On top of that, they refused to turn on one of their devices for me to test.

“Just use the dummy,” was the suggestion. “Or try one of the other phones. They are all the same, you know.”

Right. Just the way Africa is a country and Nigerians and Kenyans are practically neighbours. A bit of an exaggeration to be sure, but you get my point.

My reaction to the above was eloquent with my disbelief. “Really? You cannot be serious!” I said, a bit sarcastically I have to confess.

Not exactly charming Nadia, but at the same time when buying any kind of merchandise you at the very least expect to test it out.

The girl however was very confident in her flawed reasoning to the point of even being rude.

“If you damage it here while looking at it, it will be a loss for another customer. So first you have to agree to buy it before we put it on.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“No, what you are saying doesn’t make sense.” She countered. And on it went. Needless to say I hot-footed it out of that joke of a store.

God forbid I had accidentally dropped a brand new phone as though I were an eleven year old klutz. Despite their attempts to school me, it still made absolutely no sense to me.

Unbelievably, the next shop was even worse. It was manned (HA!) by an eye-rolling, huffy girl who got in a mood because I asked too many questions.

As such, I got in a mood and had to keep myself from smacking her straight across her nose. We wrapped up the deal and I walked out without breaking the law. However, my pride was hurt and my mood ruined.

I will admit albeit reluctantly that I am not ready to take to the streets with placards demanding fair treatment. All the same, I will continue to demand it in my own way.

It just seems that some of these people get it in their heads that they can treat a person any way they want because at the end of the day there will always be another customer.

As such they have raised themselves up to be pitiable gods, inflated with the belief that should they go away, we will languish in misery. Mind you they are probably correct in their notions, but it still does not make it right.

To my way of thinking, everyone should be like those guys who sell DVDs in stalls; polite and helpful. Sometimes almost too helpful. Or the men who sell second hand sneakers at markets.

They really go out of their way even if it means confronting the stinkiest feet known to humanity.

Furthermore, hearing about horrible treatment from restaurants that cater mostly to expatriates is one thing, but being spit on by someone of the same breadth as yourself can sometimes feel more insulting.

To put it plainly, I am tired. Of the yelling and arguments, the tiny injustices that ruin our days. Of that guy at the till who decides to steal your shilling because it probably does not matter anyway.

Of all the horrible human beings that take your heard earned money without giving you the due diligence you deserve.

The funny thing about insults is if you receive too many they burn a hot hole within you until finally you either have to scratch yourself out or scratch out whoever insulted you in order to find some release.

Personally, I crossed that bridge a few weeks back. Time to name and shame.