I take my iPhone to this phone repair place. It was one of those no-name “bootleg” repair places. The screen was cracked because I dropped it after I had arrogantly refused to get a case for months and months. I was like Icarus, but instead of getting my wings burned I spent $150 bucks to have my phone repaired.
I always prefer the non-chain repair shops because it’s cheaper than Verizon, and also corporations are evil, man. Plus I like seeing all the really cheap phone brand names I’ve never heard of. You know it’s garbage when it’s something called “Boji” and the price is “$55 or best offer.”
The main reason I like going to these random repairs shops though is that with no corporate backing, the people working there are much realer than the drones in polo shirts at Verizon. For example: I bring my phone in and tell them exactly what’s wrong with it. My screen is cracked in multiple places; also my camera lens is busted. The guy behind the counter diagnoses the problem and starts off very polite, prim and proper. “Yes sir, we can fix that right away.” Very business-like. The interaction should haveworn with a pair of pleated khakis, it was so professional.
So I stand there, waiting for him to fix my phone. While I wait, another guy comes in, puts his phone on the counter and says, “I need you to fix my shit. My shit’s broken.”
First thing I would have asked: “You’re talking about your phone right? Because if your shit is literally broken, that’s an issue for your doctor, not your phone repair guy. Actually I’m not even sure that’s even an issue for your doctor. Is broken stool really that big a deal? I don’t know. As I said before I’m not a doctor.”
While “my shit is broken” isn’t articulate, it was accurate. The thing was busted almost beyond recognition. It looked like Ronda Rousey after the Holly Holm fight. For lack of a better phrase, he needed them to fix his shit.
The counter guy picks up the phone, examines it, and says plainly and without any hint of rudeness or derision in his voice: “Nah. It’s too fucked up, we can’t fix this.” Then the guy left.
How refreshing would it be dealing with customer service reps if they were all that blunt? You order a Coke when they have Pepsi? “Nah, fuck that noise. We only got Pepsi, none of that Coke shit. You want a fucking water instead?” Flight cancelled? “It wasn’t the weather or a technical issue, we had crew members call out. Fuck them, here’s a voucher.” Cable is out? “Our bad, we massively fucked up, per ushe. But you know that since our service sucks donkey dick.”
I think we should encourage these people to swear at us. I’ve worked in customer service before so I know how thankless it is. You’re basically a human shield masking the incompetence of others, a first line of defense in a war you didn’t start. As long as they maintain politeness, why not let them blow off a little steam? “Fuck man, I’m really sorry. It’s not you, it’s fucking us. I’ll send you a $25 gift card with a note on it that says, ‘Our fucking bad.'”
My only problem with it? I want to be able to swear with the guy too. Maybe I was too formal when I was describing the problem. What if I’d said, “Yeah so the screen is fucked six ways to Sunday.”
To which he could have replied, “No fucking problem, we’ll have that fucking fixed for you in a fucking jiffy.” Now it’s just two kids taking advantage of their parents being out of the room to say fuck as much as possible. “Just have a fucking seat right there and we’ll have this shit good-as-new in a fucking minute, you asshole.”
Maybe the asshole part was a bit much, but you get the idea.