Remember when customer service meant something? Me neither. After waiting 40 minutes with an appointment for a COVID shot, I started to wonder if I’d accidentally signed up for a social experiment in human patience. Spoiler: I failed.
I’m not sure when it happened—somewhere between the fall of Blockbuster and the rise of self-checkouts—but somewhere along the way, customer service gave up, packed a suitcase full of apathy, and ghosted us all.
This isn’t just about one bad day or a cranky cashier. It’s an epidemic of indifference. And it finally hit me (again) during what should have been a simple errand: getting a COVID booster.
I had an appointment. Two o’clock sharp. I showed up on time—like the responsible adult I pretend to be—and sat down, expecting a quick in-and-out. Instead, I waited. And waited. And waited. Over 40 minutes passed while the staff buzzed around helping everyone at the counter and the drive-thru like I was part of the furniture. Honestly, a potted plant would’ve gotten more attention.
So I did the unthinkable. I asked a question. “Why do I need an appointment if I’m just going to sit here while you help everyone else first?”
You’d think I’d slapped someone’s grandma. The reaction? Instant frost. Raised eyebrows. Whispered huddles. A flurry of side-eyes that nearly started World War III right there between the greeting cards and cold medicine.
That’s when it really sank in: customer service isn’t just slipping—it’s plummeting face-first into a pit of “we-don’t-care.”
Calling a company for help is like trying to win a radio contest. Press 1 for billing, press 2 to repeat the menu, press 3 to lose your will to live. Talk to a real person? Hah. If you manage that, go buy a lottery ticket while you’re on a roll.
And don’t get me started on retail stores. I recently stood in front of a cashier who treated me like a ghost with a credit card. No hello. No smile. No “thanks for keeping us in business.” Just beep. Bag. Bye.
Healthcare? You’re lucky if you find a doctor who’ll actually listen instead of checking off boxes to protect their license. After dealing with chronic pain for years, I’ve lost track of how many doctors refused to treat me—not because they didn’t believe me, but because writing a prescription was just too much paperwork. (Because nothing says “care” like apathy in a lab coat.)
What I don’t get is why we’re putting up with this. When did basic human decency become optional?
Customer service used to be about connection. About treating people like—brace yourself—people. We’re not demanding miracles. We’re just asking for some eye contact, a bit of respect, and maybe not being treated like a speed bump in someone’s shift.
So to all the businesses out there, a gentle reminder: we are your business. Without customers, you’re just a bunch of breakrooms and fluorescent lights. You don’t have to roll out a red carpet. Just act like we matter.
