I went
to my local branch of Citizens Bank last week. It was a quick trip.
I dashed in, made a deposit, and was back in the car in three
minutes. It's not a large office---there may be ten employees there
on a busy day---but five of them smiled at me, made eye contact,
wished me a nice day, etc. And they didn't just happen to be
standing around when I walked by them. They came over to me, or
waved to me from their desks. I'm not any sort of high-roller in
this joint, by the way. I'm just a schmo with a checking account,
and not a very big one.
When I
got home, there was a message on my answering machine from the
manager at the branch. Would I please give him a call?
OK, I
thought. Is there some trouble? Was there something wrong with the
check I deposited? Did I accidentally leave my checkbook there? Had
my identity been stolen? I called the manager immediately.
“Mr.
Kubacki,” he said, “you were here a little while ago, and I just
wanted to know whether you had a good experience this afternoon at
Citizens Bank.”
“Sure,”
I replied. “It was fine.”
“Just
'fine'? Mr. Kubacki, at Citizens Bank we hope it was better than
that.”
It was
at this point I stopped worrying whether my identity had been stolen.
“Better
than what?” I asked. “I deposited a check and then I left. Your
teller accepted the check for deposit and gave me a receipt. I got
exactly what I wanted. It was fine.”
“Mr.
Kubacki, we just want your Citizens Bank experience to be
exceptional, every time.”
I'm
really getting tired of this crap.
I don't
go into my bank for a hug or because I am feeling low that day and I
need a boost for my self-esteem. I go in there to conduct business,
and it's usually not very complicated business. While I am there, I
will smile politely and perhaps have a bit of chit-chat with the
teller about the weather or the Phillies game last night, and when I
am done my business I will bid them a good day and I won't mind if
they bid me one as well.
But
that's as far as it goes. I don't care about their happiness or the
state of their eternal soul, and I don't want them to care about
mine. As we all know, there are few things more annoying than
offering a polite “how ya doin'?” to a stranger or a
semi-stranger and getting an eight-minute blow-by-blow on the recent
issues and interventions involving his prostate. But it seems that
in many businesses today, there is a Human Relations and Diversity
Training Officer who somehow manages to convince everyone that basic
courtesy is no longer enough. We have to let our customers know we
really, really, really care, you see. Customers are not even
customers anymore--- they are “guests,” or “clients,” or
“business partners.” And if we all just smile and treat them
with the sort of simple human dignity that has somehow worked to
preserve civilization for the last five thousand years or so, we
might lose market share. We
have to do more!
It's
false. It's phony. And I always feel sorry for the employees in
this situation. Forcing them to behave in ways they would not
normally behave (in ways no one would behave!) is a violation of
their rights of conscience. These are human rights that we all must
respect. The employees at this bank are not actors who choose to play a role, and they
are not trained seals. Yet at peril for their jobs, they must
dissemble in my presence and pretend to feel something they do not.
It's
something the minions of Kim Jong-un have to live with. Smile at the
right moment, or applaud, or cry, and you will survive. Failure to
do so, however, is a punishable offense. A free people should never
be subjected to this sort of bullying.
Copyright2014MichaelKubacki
(NOTE:
The title of this piece is the name of a book by Polish writer
Tadeusz Borowski about his experiences as a prisoner at Auschwitz.)
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