Are we sure we want to do this? I'm very patriotic. I love New Zealand but if anyone I know from another country talks about how crap the customer service is in this country, I have to agree.
There's the classic hipster at the cafe - I'll make your coffee because I have to, but I'm not going to do it with a smile on my face and I'm going to give your outfit a once over. And I'm like: "Yo asshole, if I'm going to pay five bucks fifty for a cappuccino you can fucking pretend to like me and you can smile. It's not my fault you're from the generation of entitled little fuckers that doesn't want to work. I work. I earned that five dollars fifty. Now smile when you give it to me. Smile god damn you and ask how my day was and tell me you like my top. Thank you.
Then there's the miserable checkout operators at the supermarket. Our favourite one at the local supermarket is called Bernadine and she actually looks like she is a walking zombie corpse, every breath is an effort, every movement of scanning your items a torture.
Then there's the complete pack of cunts that work for Vodafone and Spark.
I'm at the point with customer service that I'm surprised and astounded and incredibly grateful if it's good. "Did you see that guy? He smiled at me. When he gave me the coffee, he did this thing with the sides of his mouth where they turned up at the sides. I'm going to faint. I'm in shock."
Once Lisette and I went to this place in Wellington and we had booked and they tried to put us at the shittiest table that was a small cramped bench space that had magazines on it even though the rest of the restaurant was empty and I was like, "Can't we sit there at that booth?" And he was like, "No" and I was like, "What about at that table?" and he was like, "No," and I was like, "What about that table by the window?" And he was like "No." And then it hit me, to get what you want in this life you have to be a total bitch from hell.
"Look, We don't want to sit at that shitty little bench table. Give us another one of the fifty empty tables. Please."
We got a booth. And he had a really big moustache that was far too well groomed and he was really mean to us for the whole time but we got drunk on our two bottles of BYO wine so fuck him.
And that place was called Tequila Joe's.
Once I went to get a pedicure and the lady only did one coat on my big toe and said she was finished and then when I asked her to do a second coat she did it but she held my big toe really, really hard. It hurt. But I got that second coat so it was worth it.
Then there's those shops like Supre that sell really cheap joining clothes like singlets and tights and you only go in there because you have to but the music is so, so blaringly loud you feel you need to dance in the aisles or maybe take an ecstasy tablet and the girls at the counter ignore you and talk to each other and you have to shout at them: "HELLO! HELLO! CAN I BUY THIS INCREDIBLY CHEAP BLACK SINGLET MADE BY A CHILD IN A POOR COUNTRY. PLEASE! I NEED TO LEAVE. MY EARS HURT. I'M TOO OLD FOR THIS! HELLO??!"
So yeah, customer service in New Zealand is shit. But you all knew that anyway, didn't you!
Love - Lisette
I cannot respond to this. Mariana is completely correct.