It was a hot day and the teenager had to drive around for several minutes before finding a parking spot.
Entering the building she pulled off a ticket. It read 163. She wasn’t sure whether this was a good sign or not. The place seemed crowded with every counter occupied. She found a seat. The large digital number, suspended from the ceiling, read 137. With only four counters being manned, she could be in for a long wait. That being the case, it wasn’t a good sign. She picked up a magazine and started flipping through, looking for a crossword. She could always pass the time with a crossword.
She was busy counting the number of letters in the word ‘Morpheus’ on her fingers for seven down, when somebody shouted, “Is number 163 still here?”
She raised her arm and stood up so quickly that she almost fell over. At the counter she apologised.
The middle-aged woman behind the counter smiled sweetly and said, “That’s perfectly alright madam. It is a hot day. We’ve had several customers doze off in here today. Think nothing of it.” At this point she chuckled to herself and said, “Can I trouble you for your ticket?”
“Ticket?”
“The ticket with your number, if you’d be so kind.”
The girl was truly amazed at how polite and understanding this person was. She put it down to some new job centre policy. She was all for it. As for the ticket… she searched her pockets and finally came up with it. She handed it over and watched as the woman tore it into very small pieces, then throw them into a litter bin hidden somewhere under the counter, out of sight.
“And the form we sent you? I presume you brought that with you?”
“Yes.” She handed it over.
The woman leant across to a small shredding machine and fed the form in.
The girl said, “Wow! Why would you shred that, isn’t it a record or something?”
“Security,” came the reply.
“Security?”
“Yes, we are allowed to tear up a client’s number ticket, but for anything official, we have to use the shredder.”
The girl frowned. “You know, I really don’t understand that.”
The woman’s face became hard. She sniffed and said, “Well, you don’t have to, do you? I mean, why should you?”
The girl felt awkward, she said, “I suppose not, but I was just saying…”
“Yes, you were, weren’t you? That’s the problem I think. Too much conjecture about things you don’t understand.” She sniffed again and said, “That’s typical of your sort.”
The girl went red and raising her voice said, “My sort?”
She was about to go on when a man in a suit and tie approached, saying, “OK. We’ll stop it there, I think.”
The woman behind the counter giggled and said, “How’d I do? This one’s very good.” She smiled warmly at the girl. “Very convincing, I must say.”
The man was looking over his notes. He shook his head and said to the woman, “That didn’t go the way I had hoped.”
The woman said, “Oh! Really?”
“Yes, really. The object here is to have the customer be rude and demanding, so that we can train you, as the service provider, up to a point where you know how to respond to you, the role-playing customer, in an appropriate manner.”
The girl looked perplexed. “But I’m not role-playing!”
“No, that’s the problem, you’re not, and you should be. You are being far too polite. The whole intention of setting up this staff training program is to…”
“Wait!” said the girl, “did you just say training program?”
The man’s face began to move out of focus and she became aware of an irritating nudging at her arm. She turned to see the man next to her was pointing at her lap. “That’s you.” He nodded at the ticket held limply in her hand.
She blinked a few times. “Pardon?”
“Your number. I think you ought to go, they’ve called you twice. Your number up there has turned red… and it’s flashing!”
She thanked him and made her way to the counter.
The woman smiled and said, “Do you have the form?”
The girl said, “Yes, of course,” and handed it over.
The woman behind the counter didn’t shred it.