Oh no! Not the Coathanger!

Show your New York Attitude Don't hold the door for nobody - Subway poster New York Subway July 02

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with daisies and barley Down the rivers of the windfall light. - Dylan gumnut Fern Hill 1952 - Adjacent subway poster New York Subway July 02

One of the worst things you can be in New York, is a customer.

Customers are the bottom of the heap, socially, economically and politically. A customer is at the end of the food chain; the modern day equivalent of an Indian untouchable or Roman gladiator.

A customer has no status whatsoever, and whether it be via the telephone, email or in person, people dread and will do anything to avoid, coming into contact with that unpleasant form of life in the 21st century - The Customer.

I hate it when I am a customer. I avoid being one at all times, but it is part of everyday life, that we have of necessity to accept the role on occasion, and indeed are thrust into it at times, like it or not. It is a bit like going to the dentist for a bad but necessary root canal - you have to do it, but once at the surgery you wonder why on earth you put yourself in that position.

I remember long ago when I was little and in another country. Customers had not yet become objects of derision, and many companies made money from selling to them. Because of this, customers were welcomed with open arms. In those days money was made by actually selling real things - by real I mean something you can touch. So even if deep down in his heart, a store owner despised customers, at least he'd smile and do his best to cover up his natural revulsion.

In those days deep in the last century, there were even sayings such as "the customer is always right", put about to hide the fact that the customer is always wrong. There are still remnants of this on old packaging materials. At a local dry cleaner here for example, the proprietor is using up old coat hanger-cover stock. On it is proclaimed, "WE our customers".

But these remnants of the past are becoming less frequent by the New York minute (a misnomer in anyone's books, being normally equal to half an hour...).

Whenever I have no option but to be a customer, I fortify myself with memories of the past when money wasn't made by selling things that didn't exist. When vapour-ware was unknown and when stock meant cattle and when Enron was just a glint in a Republican's eye.

Even before the transitional period, when the term "customer service" was a serious concept, and not a phrase that when uttered was a cause for mirth. Now of course we have "Customer Relations" which only goes to show that Americans are coming to grips with the meaning of irony.

Last week I had the misfortune to be a customer six times in one day. That I survived only goes to show the tenacity of the female spirit.

The day started with me being a Time Warner customer. I was over-billed $190 and sensibly chose to ignore it as I had prior knowledge that I would have to don the role of customer later in the day. I needed to preserve my strength.

The trauma of the $3,224 AMEX overcharge however was another thing. While my dignity requires that I throw $190 away, enough is enough and I must confess that I fell into the trap and became ... a customer.

Having survived the sneering tones delivered to me over the phone lines by a "Chelsea" in a call-center somewhere in Iowa, I backed right off, fearing that I may become a permanent "customer" - a thought so nightmarish that I feared my sanity was in danger.

Before leaving Chelsea however, a bit of my old spirit returned (momentarily) and I ventured a sarcastic remark. "I suppose there's only one Chelsea in Iowa so I'll be able to contact you again should I need to". I was feeling pretty proud of myself. But then she hung up on me. I am so happy I took out an AMEX platinum card, as I dread to think what would have happened had I been a lowly Gold Card holder.

As the day wore on I passed from being a Miele customer, through being a Verizon customer, a US Postal Service customer and a UPS customer.

Late that night, weary and worn, attempting valiantly to shed my customer qualities, I passed a shop window that featured a skirt I could kill for. I was sorely tempted and even took a few tentative steps towards the store entrance.

However I am happy to report that my good sense came to the fore and I resisted. I'm not THAT silly. It may have been a nice skirt, but was it really worth the effort of becoming .... A CUSTOMER?

Kate Juliff
New York
July 2002