Mind Your Manners Please

There is a reason that I don’t work in customer/public service – I am simply not genetically made for it. When I was a teenager, my second real job was working in a grocery store. I had several responsibilities, the main one, being a cashier. I was young and fresh out of high school; my life was about to change forever. I was just about to realize my limitations as a human being, that would change the landscape of my life.

The store where I worked was on the main drive, Slappey Blvd in Albany Georgia. Behind it, most of the neighborhoods housed people that had lived there most of their lives, now in their late 60’s and 70’s.

I cannot tell you the things I learned about people just by working in that store. It was quite possibly the best eye-opener for any person my age to experience. But that’s not how I know I shouldn’t work in customer service or maybe even with just people in general.

I was a Purchasing Manager for 20 years. I didn’t work with customers, I worked with sales people. Which meant that basically I was in charge and I didn’t have to listen to foolishness. That job came to an end when the company closed down.

Thankfully, some wonderful folk were looking out for me and I was able to roll right into another job with no time standing still to fret or worry. However, that job opening was for a Human Resource Manager.

Now I don’t have to step out far and wide to tell many of you, just how far that job is from my particular salty/sassy no-holds-barred personality. I’ll just leave you with this funny example of how most of my days go now.

Typical day:  I came to work one morning, locked the front door behind me because I needed to go to the restroom first. A minute or so later, I hear the door unlock and the bell jingle that's attached to the door; as several supervisors also have keys.

The door to my office is still shut and the light is out because I didn't make it that far. My bosses door is shut, and the bathroom door is shut with the loud fan going in there that sounds like it's about to explode and sling shrapnel.  And all of this you can see (and hear) as you stand right inside the entrance of the front door.

One of the supervisors begins to shout my name. I almost lost my good graces when I came out of there. I was like dude, you can obviously see where I MUST BE, and this isn’t your house where you come inside hollering for your wife or kids - even though you also know THEY are in the restroom - so why would you do that EITHER - because what can they do for you in there? He just stood there and looked at me like I had lost my mind. I was like " some courtesy please, would be appreciated". 

Prayers are appreciated that I make it to retirement. Because it is highly questionable some days!