First, the good stuff. We went down to JAX for my sister's bday, which included a visit to PF Chang's for supper. Our totally lame husbands both ordered Chicken Fried Rice. Hello - you can get that anywhere! And then John said it wasn't very good. We had a little come to Jesus meeting about how he could and should have ordered something else. sigh. They just don't get it. My sister and I were wondering if anyone would notice if we stuck the chopsticks in our mouths like walrus tusks. I would have done it (hell, no one knows me there) but my husband would have disowned me. Sometimes you have to throw them a bone, especially when it comes to embarrassing them in public. As soon as I find my camera (yes, John, I know I've lost yours, too) I'll post a pic of Betsy almost posing as a Walrus.
Oh, and I rode on the motorcycle with John yesterday afternoon. We just rode around the neighborhood, but I was scared shitless. You'll find your religion real fast on the back of a bike. I make the mistake of asking John how many people he had ever taken for a ride on it, and he was stupid enough to tell me the truth. None. So he was probably praying as hard as I was!!
Okay, now you get the rant. It's about snobby, rude people who work with the public. You know, shitty customer service, even when you're not really servicing anyone. People, if you are snotty and mean, and you think you're better than everyone else, find a country and become its dictator. Don't work in retail. So, sister and I went to her local fabric store. It's a big place with a great selection of fabric and just about everything else. The front has lots of gifty things, all very well done, and the back section is all fabric, notions, rug hooking, needle punch, classes, tools, etc. You get the picture. Big place, great selection. Here's the problem. Every single time I have been in the store I get treated like I'm the stuff on the bottom of their shoes. I'm not the only one. My sister lives there, and she buys a lot of fabric (to save her marriage, I won't tell you how much), some if it there, and they treat her the same way. No, we've never taken a class there. So what. And we're not in there every day - the 3-hour trip for me is prohibitive. But so what? My local fabric store treats everyone like they're long-lost relatives. The kind you're happy to see. Anyway, back to the store from hell. We were having our fabric cut by one of the few nice women working there. She complimented our fabric choices (we don't care if you like our picks, but we love thinking you do) and chatted to us about her grandson and my grandkids, etc. I then made the mistake of asking her if they carried the Heather Ross line of fabric. She looked puzzled, then asked if I meant Heather Baily. No, Heather Ross. And I was perfectly fine with that. I didn't expect her to know EVERY fabric line out there. I just wanted to make sure I hadn't missed it if they had it. Enter Demon Employee. Our nice employee turned to ask the other if she knew if we carried Heather Ross. Bad employee immediately insisted I meant Heather Bailey. When I said, no, that's not what I said, she asked me to describe it. Um, the entire line? I wasn't even sure what it was called, so I said, "I'm not sure what it's called, but it has mermaids and stuff on it." She immediately looked over her glasses at me, and in her haughtiest, poor-stupid-customer-who-knows-nothing voice she replied, "We don't carry novelty fabric." As though novelty fabrics came straight from hell. And then she took her nasty, mean self off to some other unsuspecting fabric shopper. There was a moment of embarrassment as the three of us stood there thinking of something to say. I said to no one in particular that I didn't believe it was novelty fabric, any more than Kaffe Fasset was novelty fabric, and that Heather (no last name, because at this point I wanted to make someone think I knew what I was talking about) just put out a new book, Weekend Sewing. More embarrassed silence. Whatever.
Okay, so no one is perfect, and we all have bad days, but this is pretty much the attitude of most of the people I have dealt with there. Hello - it won't kill you not to talk down to a customer. In fact, the more you treat me like I know what I'm doing, the more I'm likely to buy everything and anything you suggest. And smiling doesn't hurt, either. So if you're in the vicinity of San Jose Blvd. in Jacksonville, don't expect any special treatment from the folks at The Olde Green Cupboard. They're too busy patting themselves on the back for just being there. I get better customer service from my computer when I order fabric online.