INT. RETAIL WIRELESS STORE--6AM
COCK BOMBAY
Are you ready to work, Mr. Glamour Boy?
GLAMOUR BOY
Yes, Mr. Bombay.
COCK
Where are your shoes?
GB
My dress shoes? In my locker.
COCK
(flicking his first two fingers, palm down)
Go and put them on.
GB
(disbelieving)
We open in three hours.
COCK
And where are your dressing socks?
GB
My what?
COCK
Your regular, black dressing socks, to match the shoes.
GB
These are argyles. I always wear argyles. And they match my pants--the belt should match the shoes.
COCK
Go on and change the shoes.
It should be obvious to most: the irony of having a 2-hour, 6am bootcamp to help us improve customer satisfaction is that it puts us in no mood to improve customer satisfaction for the rest of the day. We’re already disgruntled, why make us exhausted as well? These are the days I’m sure will be my last. I am convinced that I will stop biting my tongue out of fatigue and say the wrong thing to the wrong person(or the right thing to the wrong person) and I will clean out my locker for the last time.
So here we are, at the break of Friday dawn, trying to “bridge the gap” between our own Individual Customer Satisfaction scores and the Likelihood to Refer scores of the company. Cock Bombay starts in:
“The Company have no face. Whoever says The Company has face? You are the face...so the survey is about you.”
We are all sitting on the floor of the sales area, propped up against accessory racks and huddling next to display cases because there are no chairs in the store. The chair thing has been happening for a few years now. They don't want the customers to get too comfortable.
Brooklyn, who brings his own folding beach chair to these early morning meetings, leans forward in his strapped seat before clarifying, “the first question of the survey reads ‘On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the best, how likely would you be to refer The Company to your friends and colleagues.’ It says nothing about the Sales reps.” He leans back as Bombay returns fire.
“But you are the face of The Company.”
“Yeah, but I’m not the service.”
“But you give the service.”
“Yeah, better than The Company does. But I don’t provide the cell phone towers so that our customers can make phone calls. And I don’t appreciate you using my name to make The Company look better than it is. Why should I lie for you? And why wouldn’t we want honest results of this survey so that we could actually make moves at becoming better instead of insisting on the perception of getting better.”
We’ve all talked about this so many times that he speaks for all of us. It’s unfortunate that Brooklyn is painting this target on his back. Occasionally, the truth needs to be heard.
“Mr. Glamour Boy,” the Cock turns to me, “you got all 10's last week. But you got two 8's in the LTR column. Those are the 'easy no brainers.' If you can get an 8, you can get a 10.”
“I disagree entirely,” I react.
“Excuse me?”
“I think I could move a 1 to a 10 easier than I could move an 8. I think a 1 is a potentially rational being who simply did not get heard when they were in the store and therefore are taking this survey in an irrational mindset. I think that if we gave them a chance to vent their frustrations to our faces, they wouldn’t do it through text message. I think I could be so exceptionally considerate and understanding to someone like that, they wouldn’t risk giving The Company anything but a 10 because they don’t want to chance giving me a bad score. A person that influenced and potentially irrational probably wouldn’t read the entire survey anyway, so they would think they were taking it solely regarding me. The person who gives an 8, on the other hand, will always give an 8. There are people who will always want more for their money and I can’t say that I blame them. Why would you ever say you were completely satisfied when there is always the option to get improved service for the money you pay?”
“We’re not going to argue.”
“Why not?”
Brooklyn sees the target move onto me and makes a hissing sound that warns me to stop. Sleep deprivation, frustration...wait, no...truth compels me further:
“Why would you not listen to me when I have the highest scores in both of these areas?”
“Let me give you the best example,” he gets a little louder. “When customer comes in, they see what? They see you! You are the face of The Company. The survey is all about you and I don’t want to hear anymore about it. The Company have no face!”
“We know how to fix it.” I practically whisper, gesturing between myself and Brooklyn.
“How do we fix it?” I’m surprised by his exasperation as his voice almost cracks under the weight of the issue. I often forget that this guy, for all his faults, is on the line for these scores more than we are somedays.
“Nevermind,” I respond, knowing that my policies will never align with those of The Company.
The meeting is always scheduled for 2 hours because the union (bless their hearts again) says that the minimum job tour we can be scheduled for is 2 hours. That's actually why these things start at 6am. We open at 9am and need the 8-9am block to perform opening procedures in the store. So we've had our meeting. And now it's 6:30am.
Everyone begins to leave and, perhaps showing too much of his desperation, Cock Bombay invites Brooklyn and I to go to breakfast for a meeting. His treat. In my moment of empathy for the guy, I accept.
“Bro, what are you doing?!?!” Brooklyn squirms a little on the hook as he folds up his chair.
“Going to breakfast,” I answer. “And it looks like you’re coming too.”
Suddenly all smiles, Cock Bombay grabs his keys from his office and rudely motions us out the door with his hand.
“Where are we going?” I venture.
“The Del Taco!”
