Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Twas the Week Before Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas, in cubicle-land
Not a worker was working, you must understand.
The bosses left early for holiday drinks,
Their winter equivalent of hitting the links.

Employees were nestled all snug in their cubes,
Sipping hot chocolate and watching YouTube.
Productivity reached an insurmountable hump,
As they turned off their brains for a post-lunchtime slump.

When from Larry’s office there arose such a clatter,
I took my time getting up to see what was the matter.
Fairly sure it had zero importance to me,
I casually strolled over, just to see.

The sun streaming in through the vertical blinds,
Lit up a great horror of the holiday kind.
When what to my eyes should appear so bizarre?
A Secret Santa gift to Larry, from Marge in HR.

With ceramic white fur and a Santa Claus hat,
I knew in a moment it was a cookie jar cat.
Poor Larry hadn’t words for the gift he’d received,
So he coughed and he snickered, and he passed it to Steve.

“Now listen! Now look! Now hear my admission!
I sank twenty bucks into this stupid tradition!
A gift card to Starbucks is what I bought Nathan,
And all that I get is this Goodwill donation?”

And then, in a twinkling that seemed quite a pity,
Steve let out a sneeze, and down fell the kitty.
It crashed to the floor and it smashed all around,
And then through the doorway came Marge with a bound.

She was dressed all in red, from her shoes to her hair,
Her sweater emblazoned with holiday flair.
She’d been headed out back for her afternoon smoke,
When she followed the laughter from some sort of joke.

Her eyes - how they widened at the sight of her gift,
Her cheeks were likes roses, her nostrils they sniffed.
From her droll little mouth erupted a roar,
The cigarettes dropped from her hand to the floor.

Her skin was of leather, like a burnt up old elf,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself!
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know that she wished I was dead.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
Salvaging cat pieces, then she turned with a jerk.
“I thought you would like it, not tear it apart!
These jars are exclusive to only Walmart!”

Larry sprang from his desk, his spirit renewed,
Apologized to Marge, and vowed to have it re-glued.
“It was a beautiful gift, full of character and style!
Now please do not mess with my personal file.”

They made their amends and I made my retreat,
To find my own Secret Santa gift left on my seat.
I exclaimed to myself and threw the card in the trash,
“Happy Christmas to me, it’s twenty bucks cash!”

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Customer Service 101

Oh, there you are. I’m glad you’re out of your meeting. I had a call come in from a new client! Yes, that one. You’ve been chasing him for over a year now, haven’t you? Well, congratulations! They’ve got a new project starting up and they want us to handle it. I know, it’s unbelievable. So I told him that you were in a meeting and would call him back as soon as possible since we adhere to a “two hour rule.” That’s what you told us about in our customer service training seminar last week. I also thanked him for his patience and assured him that we appreciate his business. Then I told him that you might possibly be a serial killer. I even made sure there was a smile in my voice.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Oh, crap! I forgot to take down his number. I am so sorry. I assumed you already had it, and in between explaining that after work you like to park outside your ex-wife’s house with binoculars and a box of Chinese takeout, I didn’t think to jot it down again just in case. It must be on your desk somewhere though. I’ll help you look for it.

You seem mad. Stressful meeting?

Well you’ll be happy to know that I also asked him if he had any plans for the holidays, just like you taught us during our training seminar last week. “Get to know the clients and make them feel special,” that’s what you said. He told me that he'll be visiting his sister and her kids in San Diego. I told him that you usually spend Christmas Day strung out on bath salts, picking up and dismembering hitchhikers along the interstate.

We should probably add him to our Christmas card list, don’t you think?

Oh, one more thing. He said that after three o’clock you should call him on his cell - ah, geez. I did it again. I forgot to write down his cell number. You know what though? I did get his email address. Just like you requested we do at our customer service training seminar. I told him that if you were unable to return his phone call for any reason, that you would at least send an email as soon as you finished sending photos of yourself to those underage women on Craig's List.

Are you crying? Cheer up! We scored a new client! And if we hadn’t had all that customer service training last week, I may have just put him through to voicemail.