It was not a problem for me to do work is different than minimizing the work involved?
I don’t think we’re even speaking the same language, here. 
I DID thank my surgeon for removing my uterus. It was something that I’d wanted to be rid of for a very long time. I’ve also thanked a doctor for being very gentle when she opened and drained a boil. I knew that she took great care to cause me as little pain as possible. I’ve had experience with doctors who just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible, and I appreciate it when a doctor will take a few extra minutes to minimize the pain that I experience (there is no such thing as a pain-free boil draining session). If the lab tech is gentle and skillful when drawing my blood, I thank him or her too. This is partially enlightened self-interest…if the doctor or tech knows that s/he did a good job, I believe that s/he will continue to provide great service, and possibly remember me.
As for retail stores, I do make a point of shopping where I get better service. When I shop for fabric and notions, my first stop is always a locally owned store. I’m always greeted, asked if I need assistance, and heartily thanked when I make my purchase. I can get advice there, too, which is why I make that store my first stop. The clerks remember what I’m working on, ask how it’s going, and I get the feeling that they care about my happiness when I’m there. The larger chain craft stores have clerks that are pleasant enough (I’ve never experienced outright rudeness from anyone in the big chains), but they often are not nearly as knowledgable as the ones at the smaller store. I know of stores that I definitely will go to first, even at higher prices, simply because I get better service. And better service includes the clerks saying “Thank you” and “You’re welcom”, instead of trying to relieve my fears that I’ve bothered them in any way.
I was quitfired from one of my first jobs (bagging groceries) because I had been surveilled and found not to be living up to the strict Customer Friendliness rules as strictly laid out in the employee handbook.
Granted, I was your typical sullen teen at the time and probably could’ve managed to force a smile a little more often, but I really felt that a quick, sincere “hi, how are you” to the customer (which was within my nature) was far preferable to all the scripted bullshit they expected us to perform (which was definitely not).
Which was something like “with each and every customer, make eye contact and greet them in a loud, clear voice. Say you are happy to see them and address them by name if possible” (as if this were the general store in Hooterville and not a busy chain with thousands of customers a day) “and ask if there’s anything else you can assist them in finding. When they leave, always thank them very much for their business and invite them to shop at [store name] again soon.”
I think very few people can do that entire spiel without coming across as creepy or fake—and as a customer, I don’t particularly want to hear all that shit. I don’t want rudeness or (as lezlers described) to be wordlessly ignored, but other than that my expectations are fairly low, and flexible, when it comes to how service people address me. I’m much more interested in their speed and competence than in having sunshine pumped up my ass.
IMO, unless you’re addressing a foreign dignitary or something, there’s not a thing wrong with “no problem.” If that honestly offends you as too undignified, maybe you’d better start letting your chauffeur do your shopping.
I say “thank you” a lot. Too much, really, since it interrupts the patterns that others have established. The waiter fills my water glass–“Thank you!” He takes a plate–“Thank you!” Someone hands me my change–“Thank you!” The automatic door opens–“Thank you!” (embarrassing but true).
But I never notice if someone says something back. For me, it’s just a reflex.
Weirdest thing just now… I hadn’t been to KFC in a while, but for some reason Edlyn and I both had a hankerin’ for some Southern Friiiiiiied Whiiiiiiite. (Breasts and wings.) So I went to pick it up for us.
Now, I have a melancholy temperament, and things like drive-thru transactions bother me. It’s too informal and chaotic. Too much ambiguity. Too many signs. Speakers that sound like Edison’s first Victrola. A certain impatience attached to the whole process. Hurrying without efficiency. All very unnerving.
Pulling up for my turn, I suddenly froze. There was no rational order to the menu, and nothing on it made any sense. There were “meals” versus “snacks”. And “buckets” versus " boxes". And “sides” versus “pieces”. In the midst of my panic, I heard a voice through the speaker asking me if I’d like to try the something something something. It’s new, I was assured.
But what it was really didn’t register with me. For one thing, I don’t like distractions during concentration. For another, the waxy sound just kind of blended into the environment. My anxiety was compounding.
I blurted out, “Do you have any sort of box or bucket that’s all white?” And immediately upon uttering the question, I regretted it. I could see the rolling eyes in the rear view mirror. ‘Oh, Jesus, will you just order the Number 3 and get on with it!’ But it was too late. I had already engaged the speaker with a question that may tear a hole in the fabric of time, and that could be interpreted by the right jackass in the right bad mood as having racist overtones.
“Yes,” came the response. “Any way you’d like it sir. It does cost more, though.”
This was a new person. A different voice. Apparently, when one has been identified as declining the special, someone else takes over. But this voice was clear and sufficiently loud. Apparently, there was no problem with the speaker after all.
“Okay,” I said. “Give me the 8 piece bucket with all white.” A brief pause. “White meat,” I added just in case. He then asked me what sides. I chose green beans and mashed potatoes. I asked whether biscuits came with it, and he said yes.
“That’s sixteen dollars and [so-many] cents,” he told me. But after a brief re-glance at the 8-piece bucket price, even including the welfare for politicians, I thought he had forgotten that the all-white costs more. But before I could speak out, he called back, “Oh, sorry, sir. That’s […pause…] eighteen dollars and [so-many] cents.”
I was surprised by how small the difference was, but was glad the ordeal of ordering was over. “Thank you,” I said, rather mindlessly.
And then he said the oddest thing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before in a situation like this: “Thank you even more.”
I had to pause a moment to think about whether he was being sarcastic. But no, his voice had the perfect tone of sincerity. It was a pleasant voice. Almost a friendly voice.
Driving around, I was surprised for some reason to find a pale, gaunt, red-headed eighteen-year-old [my guess] with a very pleasant smile and a sparkle in his eye. The only thing that struck me more than his courtesy was his professionalism. — handing me things slowly and carefully, as he could see I was arranging the other items on the seat.
He never once rolled his eyes, smacked his gums, or tapped his fingers on the sill. Instead, when he handed me the last of it, he said, “I appreciate you stopping by, sir.” I must say that with that final expression of gratitude, he had so disarmed me that I felt like I wanted to start a new company just so I could hire him away, knowing he would make it succeed.
I had a very pleasant drive back home, feeling good about myself and the world. This young gentleman, doing nothing more than exercising the common decency that obviously welled from deep inside his being, had left me profoundly satisfied. I know one thing. God willing, it won’t be a long time before I go back there again.
Snerk.
A couple of days ago, after mucking stalls for horses who’d been confined for two days by horrible weather (oh, the fun of pushing and dumping stinking-bedding-filled wheelbarrows into the teeth of a howling wind!), I headed to the supermarket, painfully aware of the, er, aroma clinging to my person but needing to get just a few things before I went home to strip off every layer and scrub off the reek. Fortunately the store was lightly trafficked at that time, and no one choked and fainted as I passed.
I thought I’d pulled it off until I got to the checkout. No one else in line, I thought, a quick efficient checker and bagger, I’d be out of there in a flash and no one the wiser on my…
The sweet cheerful teenage girl at the register wrinkled her nose. Looked dubious. Said hesitantly, “Is that… is there something that smells like a… a barn here?”
I looked straight-faced at her and said, “That would be me.”
Oh, the poor mortified kid! She stared in horror at me, went crimson, and stammered apologies. The bagger boy rolled his eyes and braced himself for Enraged Customer Outburst. At which point I totally cracked up, told her not to worry, I wasn’t at all offended (since I did, in fact, smell like a barn), and joshed her through the rest of the transaction. Well, at one point I did gently point out that, while what she’d said didn’t bother me, she might want to keep it in mind in case the next barn-smelly customer lacked a sense of humor. But mostly we all laughed.
If it’s their job, then don’t thank them — thanking them is to make you feel better. And then expecting them to gush happily at you for thanking them, well, that just means that it’s all about you.
I liked your story. Just goes to show how people treating each other decently can make you feel a little better about the state of the world in general.
…Also, makes me want some KFC 
Guess this is where I ran into trouble, when I tried it.
“No problem” is a vernacular equivalent to “you’re welcome.” The intent of the person means something. There is no uncivil intent on the part of the person saying “no problem.” They’re trying being courteous and friendly. The fact that anyone would get their knickers in a bind about is exactly what tends to make them surly after awhile.
I’m saying the absense of a gratuitous pleasantry is pretty low on the list of what woul consider an uncivility. I’m a pathological thanker myself as a customer. I probably say “thank you” three times during the average transaction, but I don’t care if they thank me back. I probably wouldn’t even notice. As long as they handle the exchange of money for goods without being overtly or intentionally rude, I’m satisfied. I have low expectations.
I will admit I’m irritated by the ones who won’t speak a word or acknowledge my existence at all (lately, there seems to be a phenomenon of gas station clerks yammering on cell phones while absently ringing up entire lines of people at the till), but I coudln’t care less if they don’t say “thank you” or say"no problem" to mean “you’re welcome.” I have better things to spend my mental energy on.
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Oh, I most definitely thanked my surgeon! Like you, I was so happy to get rid of the damned thing. And she did a great job. I even thanked her again this year, when I went in for a check up (she’s my regular gyno, as well.) I also thanked the nurses and techs at the hospital for being so nice and so professional.
What I said is that I didn’t expect her to thank* me.* Logically, if one expects a clerk to be grateful to you for patronizing a store, because you, as Kalhoun said :
then you should also expect a doctor to express gratitude for being chosen to perform your surgery, because you are also helping her to achieve her goal of making money.
So I’m calling bullshit on the concept.
(Actually, my doctor did thank me for being a pleasant and cooperative patient, but that is a different issue.)
I disagree with the first part. Thanking retail workers – and meaning it – tells them you appreciate their doing an often-thankless and mind-numbing job. It tells them at least one customer sees them as a human being, not a faceless robot. It makes their lives a bit brighter.
But expecting them to gush happily in response? Hell, no. If they smile or speak their appreciation, no problem ( ). If they’re so far into zombie mode that they can’t or won’t acknowledge it, again, no problem – who knows what kind of shitty day or week or life they’re experiencing?
Thanking a clerk isn’t – shouldn’t be – about the customer at all. It’s about recognizing that person as a real person, a fellow human being, who deserves to be treated as a person, not a cog in the machinery.
Hear, hear!
And likewise, the customer deserves to be treated as a human being. It works both ways. It works all ways! Being polite or observing social etiquette doesn’t have to be a careful analysis of who owes who what–it just boils down to recognizing the humanity in the other person.
Hey…good thing no one’s suggesting you substitute a sarcastic *script * for a simple “thank you.”
I think the OP is generally right, but at least she got some response acknowledging her as a participant in the transaction. Try these on for size.
i have stopped going to certain stores because of piss-poor service (and complained to the manager where warranted).
Most of the “corner stores” in my neighborhood are owned and run by men from, shall we say, foreign countries who may not operate businesses and deal with customers in the same way Americans do. Fine. But, there’s one store where the dounter is about at the level of my chest and wide. This one clerk always, and I mean always, placed my change on the counter (fine) but at the very edge of his side of the counter. WTF? This meant I had to reach up and back to get my change from the money I had placed directly in his hand.
At the local super-size, supposedly 24-hour grocery I frequent, several times I’ve had trouble getting shelf-stockers to let me by as they stock shelves in the middle of some of the busiest times.* Again, WTF?! There’s a direct connection here. If those items you’re so gung ho to stock weren’t being purchased by me (and others) you would have no job stocking those items!
*Somehow this constant restocking never results in some of my favorite items being available.
Well-stated! Thank you!
No problem.
I tried to edit and add the following but the for some reason this raggedy system thought it was a double-post.
Bottom line (pun intended), most times there is a connection between how you treat a customer and whether that business survives and, therefore, whether that person or any other continues to have a job.
[QUOTE=5-4-Fighting]
Survival of business has more to do with supply and demand than customer service. If poor customer service was that much of a liability then McDonald’s would have gone in the tank years ago. Hell, drug dealers tend to have terrible customer service skills and they do fine.
I sure as hell hope my doctor’s secondary reason for performing surgery is the money. I think most doctors are primarily interested in helping people.