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I had a customer lie about me in a letter once, when I was at the Grease Factory. She went on for about five pages about the relentless abuse she had suffered at my hands, including but not limited to my calling her an "insufferable old bitch" and screaming that she was a liar to her face in a crowded lobby. There were a few paragraphs of the martyr kind, with a distinct tone of "I've gotten used to being disrespected by the younger generation but still..."
The manager showed it to me with a profoundly uncertain look on her face, and I read it with increasing bewilderment, since of the multitudes I served that summer, I had no idea who this woman was or what in the world she was talking about. Probably just another of the entitlement generation that expects the service of a Victorian butler from a guy working through college on minimum wage. On it's face, the whole thing was absurd.
But here's the crazy - my manager wrote me up anyway. If she suspected that even one sentence of this Dickensian epistle was true, she should have fired me on the spot. I guess she felt she had to do something, maybe to avoid the Wrath of Corporate, but the letter and writeup stayed in my file.
The manager showed it to me with a profoundly uncertain look on her face, and I read it with increasing bewilderment, since of the multitudes I served that summer, I had no idea who this woman was or what in the world she was talking about. Probably just another of the entitlement generation that expects the service of a Victorian butler from a guy working through college on minimum wage. On it's face, the whole thing was absurd.
But here's the crazy - my manager wrote me up anyway. If she suspected that even one sentence of this Dickensian epistle was true, she should have fired me on the spot. I guess she felt she had to do something, maybe to avoid the Wrath of Corporate, but the letter and writeup stayed in my file.
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