You Don’t Call Customer Service To Get Girls

Dear Customer,

Upon hearing your well-spoken English over the phone and discussing your basic understanding of the Performing Arts venue where I work, I imagine you’ve been a part of our consumerist society for some time. I’m surprised that I’d have to write this letter, but I believe you’ve misinterpreted what exactly your role as consumer entails. You called me so that you could buy an item. Physical tickets to an upcoming concert. That item will reward you with an experience for a certain amount of money. I am the individual who will take your payment information and, in turn, send you a few pieces of paper that will grant you admission to an entertainment experience. As a consumer, I will inform you (perhaps to your surprise), you do not have any right to consume me or my body in any way. I suppose we didn’t explain that clearly enough in our Frequently Asked Questions online.

With the confidence in which you chose to say what you said in the place of “Thank you, have a nice day,” I have a feeling you were never told that ending a conversation with, “You sound gorgeous, oh my god” over the phone while I’m here at work, trying to sell you tickets, isn’t actually the proper way to say goodbye to your sales associate. Since you obviously didn’t know this, I’m assuming neither do your sons, neither do your brothers. And it’s important for us as a society to become aware of, like I said, exactly what our role as Paying Customer actually involves.

As your sales representative, I do not work for a service in which I’m selling you the experience to imagine what I might look like. I am not answering this phone so that you can compliment me on the basis of anything beyond what I am answering the phone for. “You are so friendly!” would be an appropriate and respectable response to the service I just provided. My job here is to be kind and helpful, and to guide you toward having a nice consumer experience. If your idea of having a nice consumer experience includes the opportunity to purchase tickets and to purchase a woman, I think you’ve been mislead. I am not actually for sale. Again, I’ll make sure Human Resources knows that this was not included in our Terms and Regulations online. I’ll inform them of that mistake, and I’m sure they’ll get on it immediately.

As you said so eloquently, you do not have any actual knowledge of what I look like. In your head, a young, kind female voice conjures up images of something that is “gorgeous”. I wonder if you could even come close to imagining what I actually look like. Seeing as the 8 billion humans in this world all look slightly different, I’d say you have, at best, a 1 in 10 million chance to even guess my height. A lucky 1 in 7 billion of guessing how wide my nose is. My guesses are as good as yours when I wonder about what you were wondering. But. If you’re imagining something close to what our culture tells us, from 99% of billboards, advertisements, and magazine covers, is “gorgeous,” then I’m probably some collage of a 5’7”, 125 pound, leggy, sultry eyed, thin nosed, busty, single, straight, young female who is perfectly interested in you. If that’s what you were imagining, then let me be perfectly offended. Since I’m basically none of those things. Surprised?

Please save your “Oh my God”s for the great wonders of life, the ones worthy of God’s hallowed name. After spending hours in an empty restaurant getting to know your future wife, I hope you think about these words you threw to me, a voice with no body or soul attached to it. The soon-to-be wife of a man who whispers the same words with tears in his eyes, “You are so gorgeous,” after listening to my dreams, worries, hopes, and fears for days on end. When you hold your baby daughter for the first time, I pray you utter the exact words to her that you so lightly said to me, someone else’s daughter. The daughter of a man whose fought with and fought for the beauty of his two little girls. If you never get any of these chances, please stare at the Grand Canyon, listen to a perfect moment of silence, or experience the love of a friend, and pray, “Oh, God. Oh, my God. Your world, Your people, Your love. It is so gorgeous.”

You don’t call me, Dear Consumer, to waste your praise on a voice over the phone. I don’t want to waste my time listening to it. It is fake and shallow, and I know all you wanted was for me to fill your ego and respond, “Hehe! Oh thanks!” Please, in the future, call me (and all other sales associates) to waste your money something else that will fill your soul; a concert, a great night with that future wife or daughter, a meal with friends. I’ll be happy to sell you something that is worth the “Oh my God” your soul so desires. But you can’t have me.

No, not yours,

Ash.

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