MOVarazzi

Thursday, April 28, 2011

394. That Special Customer

She came in to the high-end kitchen store when I was working last night. I didn’t recognize her at first because she looked exactly like a normal customer. She asked me a couple questions about our one of our products, and that’s when I realized who she was: the Interrupter.

Interrupter: I’m interested in maybe buying a crock pot, wait do they even call them that anymore? I mean slow cooker. Can you please tell me the differences between the non-stick one and the one with the ceramic insert?

Me: Sure. There are several differences that I can tell you about. And if it were me, I would definitely buy the one with the cer—

Interrupter: (cutting me off) The white really matches my kitchen better, that’s why I like it. Can it go in the dishwasher?

Me: Uh, it’s not recommended to put—

Interrupter: So does the non-stick one cook better? It costs $100 more, so really what justifies the price jump on that?

Me: Great question. Well, the primary factor that sets it apart is—

Interrupter: We have to go to Macy’s. We might be back later.

Me: (tight smile) Do you want me to put one on hold?  They sell out fast.  I can check if we—

Interrupter: (abrupt) No, I said we’ll think about it.



Now, I have been known to interrupt a person or two from time to time (just ask The Husband, who adores going to parties with me to watch my advanced social skills in action), but I certainly would not repeatedly interrupt someone as they were giving me an answer to a question I just asked them!

Although, come to think of it, The Husband has done this to me from time to time if he doesn't like what I am about to say.

Him: What movie should we see?

Me: Well, I do love Reese Withersp—

Him: (to the ticket seller) Two tickets for Rambo Killer 8 please.



The Interrupter finally does go to Macy’s, but then she returns when we’re closing. She walks up to the counter, tells me she gave the issue some thought, and that she would like to buy the cer—

“Oh, right after you left, I sold it,” I tell her truthfully, “it was the very last one we had.”  Nothing can interrupt my smile.

MOV

1 comment:

  1. Love, love, love this post! Reminds me of my husband. I don't even try to have conversations with him anymore - I just smile and let him talk.

    ReplyDelete

When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)