Her Letters To Santa Must’ve Been Doozies
I work at a hardware and home improvement chain. I was walking past our fake holiday tree collection when a lady in a [Pricey Outdoor Clothing Brand] vest asked me for help.
Customer: “Can you help me pick out a tree?”
Me: “Of course! To start, how tall are your ceilings?”
I needed to ask a few basic questions to get started. We had plenty in stock with more options online, but I was more than happy to show her our selection.
Customer: “No, I just need you to pick one out for me.”
That was odd — most people don’t ask an employee to pick out something that requires the customer’s taste — so I asked a few more questions.
Me: “Well, ma’am, I can’t pick out a tree for you because I don’t know what you like, but maybe we can start with a budget and whether or not you want a tree with lights already on it.”
Customer: “I don’t have a budget and I really don’t care.”
She wasn’t getting belligerent or anything; she just seemed confused. I decided to walk her over to our displays and point out how many different options we had, including frosted tips or ones that came with small decorations like fake pinecones and cranberries. And I especially pointed out the difference between the seven-and-a-half-foot and nine-foot options.
Customer: “Hm, I like the nine-foot. Show me the plain one with the lights.”
Me: “Sure thing! And it looks like this one will be just about $600.”
Customer: “Whoa! Why so much?”
Me: “Well, it’s nine feet tall with lights, and fake trees will last you years.”
Customer: “Really, can’t you just pick one out for me? This is all too much!”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I really can’t. Would you like to keep looking?”
Customer: “Yeah, I’ll just do it myself. Thanks.”
She continued to look and then called someone to talk about the trees some more.
And as happy as I am to help someone come to a decision, I will never pick out something for the customer. That can result in disaster.