Dear Nasty Prospective Customer:
You are most often right. I am subservient to you and, during business hours, I acknowledge your superiority. You don’t need me but since I like to be able to eat and purchase toilet paper, I need you. The customer is always right. We all know that. Even subordinate idiots, like me, have the faculties to grasp that basic concept.
I know you are important and busy, whereas I am merely busy. I wouldn’t be bothered to read an email, from someone as insignificant as me if I were someone as distinguished as you, either. People like me were born so that people like you would never have to be wrong. We’re marginal people and we know it. If I weren’t marginal you’d be working for me, right?
This morning when you called me and dressed me down, for your inadvertence, I graciously accepted the blame. I said in an appropriately chagrined and conciliatory tone, “I am so sorry for the inconvenience.” You must be able to tell that I am generally very fond of my customers. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to help them. Even the difficult customers have redeeming traits. I am genuinely happy when they are pleased by our work. Everyone who works with us has the same attitude and work ethic. We go the distance on every project because we sincerely care about our customers.
After you were done with your display of power, on speaker phone for your audience, and I rang off to discuss your demands with my “supervisor”, I called my husband/business partner. He wasn’t happy to know you were so rude. I refused to give him your phone number. I sent you an email to let you know we wouldn’t be able to accommodate your needs and I sat right here while I let your calls go to voicemail, all four of them. During the final call you left a message and you were most apologetic. I sent you a final email reiterating my regret that we would not be available to work with you.
You will never know what wonderful people we are. You will not experience the level of service we provide. My pantry is full and I have toilet paper out the wazoo. I don’t need you.