When dealing with the general public complaints are inevitable. People will not be continually pleased with a service or product. As a customer I'm a firm believer in letting a business know how they are doing. As an employee I'm required to keep my mouth shut and do what the customer requests.
This I do, as far as the service, as far as the actual business which is to be transacted between you and I. There is, however, an oft overlooked subsection of this consumerism manual which literally needs cleaning up.
Someone must be the bully and mount the soapbox (enter pun, stage right) here for the sake of mankind. Someone has to say what needs to be said to maintain the health and well being of the overall population. I've waited for another to express it, I've waited for the offenders to change, but harsh words must now be spoken.
We are on the brink of cold and flu season, the time is nigh, gather round you sniffling sneezing wheezing ill and ill mannered people. I never cease to be amazed at your bounds of insensitivity when it comes to hygiene and cleanliness. Clean out your ears and pay attention!
You stand before me with a cold. You cough, you sneeze, you wipe your hands across your runny nose then want me to handle your belongings and money. You do not cover your mouth when you expel your germs, you do not turn away, and you are oblivious to the fact that you are inconsiderately expecting me to breathe in your little nasties.
Sharing is a wonderful virtue, but needs not be applied to all things. Maybe you're miserable and you want everyone else around you to be so as well. Well, heed my words...I am not compensated to the extent that I must accept this. The customer is not always right, and I intend to educate you on this disgustingly rude behavior. If you can't have the common courtesy and decency to curtail your viruses, please, allow me to show you the door.
There are those who seem to have an aversion to bath water. You aren't poor and indigent, you aren't without running water, you are just lazy. Perhaps you can't smell yourself...but the way I back up when you come in and the sound of the air freshener spraying as the door closes at your exit should be an olfactory clue. But guess again, pal, from now on the air freshener comes out while you are still there. You may be filthy but you're damn well going to leave smelling like LysolŪ. I've suffered far too long trying to be sensitive to your feelings; it's time for you to understand mine. I'm tired of holding my breath for fear of offending you!
While we're on the subject of breath...
Were you never educated on the benefits of toothbrushes and toothpaste, perhaps mouthwash or breath mints? Is it my imagination or are the most vile of halitosis victims the heaviest breathers? You don't need to be in my face for me to assist you, especially if you've had a few beers and a pack of cigarettes with your grilled onion garlic burger lunch.
And for glory's sake, don't pick your nose and then hand me a dollar with your little 'gift' attached. Remember when I used the pliers to pick it up? Didn't it give you just the tiniest hint you may have overstepped the boundaries of sanitation?
There again, you once stood there and emitted the results of a rip roaring gas attack, which was self-descriptive alone without the accompanying verbal account of just how "good that felt". You've belched in my face, you've barfed in my trashcan, and you've left your wadded snotty tissues in your wake as you exit.
One more thing...when you come in lugging a purse the size of my weekender suitcase, why still stash money in your sweaty brassiere? Everything from dollars to nipples and dimes...ahem ...nickels and dimes...money is dirty, I wouldn't want it in mine and I certainly don't want it when you've had it in yours.
What exactly is it with you people? Do you not have any self-respect? Do you not have any manners? What gives you the idea that you have a right to abuse my health and impinge on my rights of cleanliness? I'm not a fanatic, but your blatant disregard for those around you is intolerable. By virtue of my profession am I supposed to accept your disgusting habits because you are paying for my services? Why do I need to swallow both my desire for health and the inevitable rising bile because you wish to wallow in grossness?
Guess what? I don't!
Wake up and smell the roses, ladies and gentlemen, this girl's pissed off.
I should be thankful that, at least so far anyway, I've never been pissed on.