Working in customer service is not only infuriating but it ages you. There are people that could give two shits who you are or what the fuck service you are providing them. Furthermore, when you work in that industry day in and day out it turns you into a fucking monster. Everyone you see is a customer, no matter what. You go to a restaurant and you see someone treat a waitress like fucking dirt, and stop just short of spitting in their fucking mouth. My husband is getting his PhD after working in the customer service industry for three years, and after being away from it for a while he easily forgets the anguish he felt day in and day out. We fight often when I come home and bitch and he says "try to have a better attitude." I retort with "try finishing your disertation asshole." that shuts him up. It makes me feel ugly and yet a bit happy because I finally told someone off. I finally got to say exactly what was on my fucking mind in that exact fucking moment, instead of swallowing it hole and feeling the resentment oozing down the counter in the box office. Unfortunately, tha tresentment is ruining my marriage on some level. In a lot of ways I don't take criticism lightly but for anyone to say "have a better attitude" they need to understand that my attitude is stifled day in and day out. Over and over customers say things to me that not only personally insult me but demonish my character. I've been yelled at, intimidated, threatened, lied to, harrassed, and at times ignored altogether when speaking directly to someone who felt I was beneath them. The first two years were hard, but I was fresh and eager. My rope is thinning, and my husband is done feeling sorry for me and hearing about every time I feel wronged. But the truth is, I need to tell someone I feel wronged, because otherwise I sit with it, into my sleep. i sit and weep by myself and wonder if I really am worth anything at all. I know that I am, but somewhere deep inside, those customers reach the depths of you b/c those of us that are in this industry work so hard and try to much to do the right thing, to go the extra mile, and to above it all, stay true to ourselves by focusing on our hobbies and passions. So when we are questioned for our character or worth, although we know it is not personal, it sticks. After the third year, it sticks like glue and it takes a lot of tears to wash it off. There was a point in my job when I could go for a run, do some yoga, take a bath, or make a good meal and it would melt away all the days hard work, like it never mattered, or happened. But anymore, I feel like a slave chained to my thoughts of running away and leaving it all behind, becuase I am changing and ready to shed that skin so bad I want to die. Sometimes I am a customer and sometimes I am the manager. And when I a customer I know that I am no different than the person behind the counter. We are the same, except they are getting paid to be nice. I don't need pay. I am human. Be nice.
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