It Happens

Sometimes things go wrong. You know? It happens.

Let me give you an example. Imagine that you work at a store that sells cell phone devices and calling plans. Yeah, that'll do for now. Just so I can illustrate my point.

It's a Sunday and you are the only person working. You arrive at the store with a 24 oz. coffee in one hand and a fully charged iPad in the other. You clock in, you boot up the computers, turn on the OPEN sign, and perform all other morning tasks that come with the job.

Oh, and, also – for the sake of this little demonstration – you are a man. Okay?

You open the store to the public at 10:59AM, and then you sit down with your iPad and begin to flick through Facebook-comments as you sip your cinnamon latte. You know from experience that it's going to be a slow day.

A half hour passes. The phone rings. You pick up and say:

"Thanks for calling ---- --------. This is -----, how can I help you?"

A female voice answers. She explains that she will be coming in to the store to purchase a phone. She will be using an upgrade on another line on her Family account. She would like for the process to be quick and streamlined since her family is heading for the beach right after stopping by.

You assure her that all of her wishes may come true (for a moderate price of $49.99 plus tax). All she needs to do is pay your store a visit.

She hangs up.

Forty-five minutes later (corresponding to three Facebook comments and half a blog post) a lady and her twelve-year old son rushes in through the store entrance. The Lady wears a blue dress with white flowers and her hair is put up in a tight, tight bun. The Son is tanned and freckled and impatient. There's a riled up smell about them, an odor of stress.

You stand up from your chair, you greet them and ask how you can be of service. She looks confused.

"Where's that woman that usually works here?"

You explain that she is not in today, but that you would be happy to assist them with whatever they need.

"Oh", she says, unconcerned with hiding her disappointment. "So, she must've left then. I just spoke to her over the phone."

This is when you realize that the “woman” she is referring to, is actually you. Perhaps you have a feminine voice. Or maybe you have a unisex name. No matter what the cause of this misunderstanding is, you conclude it is quite embarrassing.

You must quickly make a decision: Will you acknowledge that you were the person she spoke to or will you simply pretend that this mysterious female worker has left for the day?

In the flash of an instant the decision is made.

"Oh, I see", you say, very understanding of course. "So what did you and the lady talk about?"

You lie. There's no way around it. It's done.

The woman reiterates to you what you already know. However, it seems more complicated when she explains it the second time. She will be doing an upgrade for her son, but you will need to swap the upgraded handset to another line, and you need to add a data plan that does not interfere with the original data plan on the original line, and... Confusing to say the least.

You take a deep breath. You go into the back of the store and get the phone that her Son has picked out (it's a -------- -------- with a 3" touchscreen, a back-lit keypad and a front-facing 5 MP camera). You ask for the woman's ID and the last four digits of her social security number and you log onto her account.

At this point, a girl in her twenties enter the store with an envelope in her hand.

"Hello there", you say with a smile. "I'll be with you as soon as I can."

The Twentysomething does not smile back. The Lady with the Son does not smile either.

"I'm just here to pay my bill", says the Twentysomething.

You hesitate. What does the customer service handbook say about this situation?

"Uhm", you begin, turning to the Lady with the Son, "would you mind if I assist in paying her bill first? It won't take more than a minute."

The Lady with the Son sucks her lips together. "I suppose that would be alright. But we do need to be on our way soon. We're going to the beach."

You help the Twentysomething with paying her bill (it does take two minutes rather than one). She leaves and you swing around to the Lady with the Son again.

Your fingers scramble over the keyboard and you can feel your heart pounding as you succumb to the inner voice telling you to "hurry up, darn it, they're going to the beach". Finally. You're almost done with the upgrade and the customer summary is printing and... you realize you got it wrong.

You made a mistake. The phone you just upgraded is connected to the wrong phone number.

So, you start switching out the SIM card, but that in itself will not solve problem, because the SIM card belonging to her other son's phone must also be swapped out to make up for your mistake. As you try to explain this technical nightmare to the Lady with the Son, you can see her forehead crinkling with every word you utter, how her shoulders tense, and her eyebrows sink.

Another customer walks into the store.

You say: "Hello there", and you really try to sound cheerful, "I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"I just want a car charger", says the Other Customer.

"Oh, okay. Well, let me finish up here and then I'll help you in a minute."

The Other Customer sighs. The Lady with the Son gives you a stare that could shatter glass.

At last, you get through the upgrading process, and you manage to explain to the Lady which SIM card goes into which phone, and you begin to type her information into your point-of-sales system so you can print her an invoice, and the clock is ticking, and the minutes pass by.

As you open your mouth to declare the total amount due, the Other Customer exclaims:

"Are you gonna sell me the charger, or what?"

You tell him it will only be a minute, but he is furious, and he turns around, and leaves a trail of cussing and complaints in his wake as he exits the store never to return again.

Forcing a smile, you redirect your attention to the Lady with the Son. Relieved that this will all be over soon, you may finally tell her what she needs to pay so that she can be on her merry way:

"So, the total amount due will be $89.49."

The reaction you get is not what you had hoped for.

"Excuse me?" spurts the Lady with the Son in a tone of voice that is normally devoted to expressions such as: "Are you out of your !#*@$%& mind?!"

You hesitate and then repeat what you just said.

"But the phone is only $49.99", she growls.

"Yes, but the sales tax is added on top of that."

"So I'm paying 40 bucks in taxes?"

"Yes", you agree, "the sales tax is actually calculated on the retail price of the phone, which in this case is $329.00, rather than the subsidized pricing."

"That's outrageous! I've been coming to this store for many years, and they've never charged me this much."

You assure her that you are not at liberty to adjust the sales tax.

"Then the price tag is misleading", she claims.

And you can only agree that perhaps the price tags should be revised with greater clarity in this regard.

"And", she adds, "that is not what the lady on the phone told me when I called in earlier today."

At this moment it strikes you that a lie may not be morally defensible, but it may nevertheless be convenient.

"She didn't?" you say with well-timed surprise.

"No. She most certainly did not."

"Well, once again, I am terribly sorry that you were misinformed."

The Lady with the Son grinds her teeth as she pulls her wallet from her purse and scatters bills of various denominations over the counter. You walk over to the register and get her change. You print out her receipt. She snags it from you as if you were smitten with the plague.

You wish her a great day at the beach as she whips around. She does not say a word as she leaves the store with her Son scampering in her tracks. You watch them through the window, how they walk to their car, and get into it.

You conclude to yourself that that could not possibly have gone any worse.

However, within mere seconds you realize it could.

As you glance through the heap of paperwork that the Lady with the Son left behind, you discover that the most important document of them all – the one stating that she will in fact adhere to the terms and conditions of her two year service agreement – has not been signed. To not acquire a signature on this piece of paper is one of the deadly sins while working in this particular business.

Once again a decision has to be made. And fast, because as you grab the document and start running into the parking lot, the Lady with the Son is already backing out of her spot.

You hurry towards her car, scrambling over the asphalt. For a second, your eyes lock with hers and there's not a doubt in your mind that she will drive off. She's going to step on the pedal and leave you in a cloud of dust with an unsigned document symbolizing an unbinding contract.

Luckily for you, you're wrong. She does stop, rolling her eyes as she rolls down the window.

"What?"

You hand her the document and ask her to please sign it. She does and then hands it back. She does not even ask why.

You thank her. Twice. She drives off.

As you watch her merge onto the highway, you can't help but laugh a little.

You laugh at yourself and your capacity for human error. You laugh at the little things in life that sometimes give rise to disproportional frustration and stress. You laugh at the very idea of remaining disquieted about this whole affair.

Because sometimes things go wrong. And you know what? It happens.