Why you want to be nice to service people

Here's a tale of why you want to be nice to service people, even when it's just an ordinary day. So gather round the fire, o best beloveds, prick up your ears, and we'll begin.

Many years ago, when my children were still little pups, I spent a great deal of time on airplanes. Fly here, fly there, fly everywhere. One the places I flew a lot was San Diego, because the parent branch of our company was there and I had to attend a 1:00PM meeting there once a month.

Early one morning I was flying from Detroit, MI to San Diego, with a plane and airline change in Dallas. My Northwest flight arrived in Dallas on time at 9:00 in the morning, and I trundled off to the Delta desk, because that was what the Delta flight departure screen said to do. (No, Giza, just because it's a Delta-shaped logo doesn't mean it's gay-friendly).

There I found literally hundreds of folks milling about in various states of disarray. It seems all of them had, like me, flown from various points around the U. S. of A, intending to board the happy Delta 747 superliner bound for sunny San Diego.

Unfortunately, my best beloveds, something mechanical had gone Badly Wrong with the 747, and our flight was cancelled. Harried Delta clerks were working fervishly to get us to our destination via other routes, but a 747 holds a *lot* of people. (Yes, Mach, it can hold furs too. One per seat, so long as they buy tickets of the appropriate class.) So there were many many folks to be re-booked onto not so many flights.

The woman ahead of me in line was not a fur, because no fur could ever be as rude as this woman. She started by raising her voice and cursing. She accused the clerk and the airline of deliberately booking her onto a flight that would break down. She criticized their maintenance procedures loudly and profanely. She was, to say the least, a Pain in the Ass.

The clerk, by contrast, was a Professional. She let the woman rant as needed, apologizing all the while and trying to get the woman's destination (the cancelled flight went to Hawaii after San Diego). The angry woman finally relented and handed over her ticket, still muttering imprecations about Delta, the clerk, and so forth. After much pounding of keys and chewing of pencils (no, Kage, I don't think the woman was a beaver. And don't go there) the clerk informed the woman that she had a 5:30PM flight leaving for San Francisco, from which she could get the Delta flight to San Diego the next day. The woman cursed and fussed a bit more, and the clerk apologized some more, and eventually the woman grabbed her bag and headed off to wait for the San Francisco flight.

I stepped forward and said "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with the previous person, and I want to congratulate you for being calm, polite and effective in the face of such provocation. I'm headed for San Diego as well, so why don't you book me onto the same flight."

The clerk said "Thank you. If you can run fast, I have a flight leaving for Los Angeles in 20 minutes, where you can catch the hourly San Diego shuttle and be in San Diego by noon." And then she just stood there and smiled at me. (You're right, Tango, she was probably a fur in civvies.) After getting over the surprise, I admitted to an ability to Run Fast, and she handed me a pair of tickets to San Diego via Los Angeles.

I ran fast. Well, fast enough.

To finish my tale, o best beloveds, a few hours later I was sipping tea and eating sushi at the 1:00 meeting, thinking a bit about the woman still waiting for her night flight to San Francisco and musing on why it's always a good thing to be nice to service staff.