OK, Boomer

I’m tired of the constant bitching from Baby Boomers — and even from some of my fellow Gen Xers — with which they deride Millennials as a useless, entitled, whiny generation.

For one thing, they really aren’t referring to all Millennials. Remember: the oldest members of Gen X turn forty in 2020, and the first of the Millennials will start to turn forty the year after that, so they’re not exactly kids. Even the youngest of them are generally out of college unless they’re in grad school if we go by 1996 as the cut-off year. The generation after that, often referred to as Gen Z, are currently 22 and under.

For another thing, they like to conveniently forget that the Millennials are the kids and grandkids of Baby Boomers, and the kids of Gen Xers, so if there are any flaws in upbringing, guess who caused them? Not to mention that it was mostly the Baby Boomers (and the generation before them) who created the very flawed world the Millennials (and a lot of the Gen Xers) found themselves growing up in.

So the first part, demonstrating cherry picking, means that what Baby Boomers are bitching about are not traits unique to a particular generation, but rather traits specific to people of a certain age regardless of generation.

Lazy, entitled, self-centered, and disrespectful? That’s not a description of Millennials. That’s a description in general of people in their teens and early twenties. Y’know what, Boomers? In the 1960s and 70s, your grandparents, the so-called “Greatest Generation,” were saying the same thing about you, what with your rock ‘n roll music and long hair and hippie protests. And their grandparents were saying the same thing about them in the 1920s and 30s, what with their decadent jazz and bootlegging illegal drugs and flappers and scandalous motion pictures. Those grandparents? They got to be born during the U.S. Civil War. And so on, down through all time.

There’s a famous quote, frequently misattributed to Socrates or Plato, phrased thusly:

“The children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise.”

Sound familiar? Of course it does. And it shouldn’t take anything away from the universality of this statement to learn that it was not uttered in ancient Greece, but came from a student dissertation by Kenneth John Freeman, written in 1907 at Cambridge. However, his dissertation was a summary of complaints made against young people in ancient times, so the concept expressed is accurate and ancient, even if the words are more modern. Well, relatively speaking.

One can only think that perhaps Mr. Freeman wrote his dissertation as an Edwardian Era college student because he was tired of having people born in the 1840s, right at the start of the Victorian Era, put down him and his friends. One can also hope that he wasn’t saying the same things about young people in the 1920s, but he probably was.

So, when it comes to generalities, the complaining Boomers don’t really have a leg to stand on. And I can verify, since I know a hell of a lot of Millennials and Gen Zs, that pretty much almost all of them defy every single stereotype that the old farts would throw at them.

Which brings us to the second part, and the most common complaints Baby Boomers have about Millennials. I’m not going to get into elaborating much on them here, because others have boiled it down to five things, but the key point is that Millennials only have these traits because they were taught them by the people who created the educational system they grew up in and who raised them, principally the Boomers.

Here is the bullet point version of trait and cause.

  • Millennials are entitled, and have a bit of an attitude. Thank you, helicopter parents.
  • Millennials are lazy, don’t work and won’t “pay dues.” Part one: boomer parents micromanaged them and did way too much for them; part two: growing up in a digital world has taught them to hate stupid and inefficient ways of doing things. They aren’t taking shortcuts, they’re innovating, so they get more done in better, faster ways.
  • Millennials are too casual and informal. Yeah, why is this a bad thing? Again, it was their parents who taught them to speak up and speak out, so don’t complain when they do it.
  • Millennials need constant affirmation. No, they don’t. You just treated them like they did growing up and still think that’s true.
  • Millennials don’t take work seriously. Short version: define “seriously.” Millennials would rather actually be doing work at work, even if that means not working as many hours, rather than having to punch in and out for the usual 8×5 week, but spend plenty of legitimate downtime pretending to look like they’re working.

Side note, and a great quote from the article linked above: “General Patton once said, ‘Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what needs to get done, and they’ll surprise you with their ingenuity.’” I couldn’t agree with this more, especially since I work with mostly Boomers, most of whom are cool, but one of whom has an annoying tendency to try to tell me how to do a thing rather than just tell me what needs to get done.

Especially fun when that someone doesn’t understand computers at all but tries to tell me how to do something on, well, you know… the computer. Sigh. And I’m the entitled one with the attitude? Nope. At least I’ve learned the magic defense. Start to explain the intricacies of whatever Excel formula or website navigation I need to do to do what I know how to do without help, and they nope right on out.

But there is one thing that Millennials excel at, and it’s delivering devastating comebacks to Boomers who try to criticize them. I leave you with an extensive and funny compendium of “Millennial Replies to Stupid Shit Boomers Post.” Enjoy!


Photo credit: Author’s collection; picture of his paternal grandfather’s family, with his great grandparents and the four out of six sons who lived to adulthood. Year unknown. His great-grandfather was an emigrant from Germany. His great-grandmother was descended from people who arrived here not long after the Mayflower, with a long Welsh ancestry eventually going back to Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. And at every step of the way, the older generations bitched about the younger and vice versa.

Theatre Thursday: So much for stage fright

The one thing I miss most of all during these strange days, other than hanging out with friends, is being able to go on stage and perform. I know that it’s something that a lot of people wouldn’t miss because they’d never do it in the first place, but I’m feeling the loss, and so are my many actor and improviser friends.

Studies seem to show that the one thing people fear the most, beyond death and spiders, is public speaking… and I just don’t get it. Then again, I’m a performer. Put me on a stage, give me an audience, and I am on. And it doesn’t matter whether I have pre-planned words to speak, like doing a play or giving a speech, or whether I’m totally winging it by doing improv.

To me, an audience is an invitation to entertain.

On top of that, to me, the more the merrier. I’ll take an audience of hundreds over an audience of dozens or fewer any day. The energy of a large house is infectious, and whenever I’m with a cast that’s in front of a big crowd, we all can feel it in each other’s performances. The intensity level and connections between us all go way up.

And it’s not an ego thing. It’s not about “Oh, look at ussssss!” It’s the people on stage thinking, “Look at them.”

We can see and hear you out there, and speaking for myself, if I’m doing comedy, there’s nothing I appreciate more than hearing a good laugh. If I’m doing drama, then there’s nothing more satisfying than the silent intensity of dozens or hundreds of captive eyes and minds.

Every time I go onstage, I have to wonder why anyone would fear doing it. Because here’s a simple truth that performers just know but which muggles might miss: The people watching you in the audience are a lot more afraid than you are.

Why is this? Two reasons. The first is that the audience gets to sit in the dark and be anonymous, while the performer doesn’t. You’d think that this would put the performer on the spot, but it’s quite the opposite. In fact, being in the spotlight gives the performers all of the power — and if you’ve ever been in the house of a large professional theater with a name actor onstage when someone’s cell phone rings audibly, or people are taking pictures, you’re seen this power being used with a vengeance.

This touches on the other reason for the fear: That an audience member is going to wind up being forced to participate somehow — that’s been a hazard of modern theatre ever since Bertolt Brecht broke the fourth wall, if not even earlier. Audiences can get spooked when the actors notice them and interact with them.

I’ve seen it as an audience member most obviously when I went to a production of Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding, which is a piece of environmental theatre first created in the 90s that casts the audience as the wedding guests. (A modern example of the form: escape rooms.) The audience starts out just sitting in the chairs under the outdoor tent for the ceremony, which is not without its family drama, although this part plays out a little bit more like a traditional play.

It’s when everyone moves inside to the banquet hall for the reception that things get interesting. Well, at least the cast tries to make them so. The audience is seated at various tables, with one or more actors planted at each. Now, I have to assume that each table had a similar set-up facilitated by a different family member. At ours, the Tina’s mother came over to tell us that Tina’s ex had come to the wedding uninvited, but that was okay. He was fine as long as he didn’t drink, so she was putting him at our table and asked us to make sure that he didn’t.

I wound up sitting next to the actor, and I sure played my part, making sure to vanish his champagne and wine glasses before he could get to them, but not only was no one else playing along, they weren’t even interacting with him. Now, I’m sure the inevitable arc for that actor is to figure out how to get “smashed” no matter what, and the character gets really inappropriate later on, but nobody at my table was trying, and I’m sure it was true at others.

I finally got to the point of abandoning my table and chatting with anyone who seemed to be a player, and damn was that fascinating — not to mention that they seemed grateful as hell that somebody was interacting with the character they’d bothered to create. I learned all kinds of things about what was going on, family dirt, some of the Italian wedding traditions, and so forth.

That’s what you have to do as an audience member when you go to environmental theatre. That’s the contract! So if you’re not into it, don’t go see those kinds of shows.

On the other hand, I’ve seen it from an actor’s POV more than a few times, and in shows that were not necessarily advertised as environmental theatre, or were not even announced as happening beforehand. In those cases, I can understand the audience discomfort. That doesn’t mean that it wasn’t fun to put them through it, at least in those situations.

Those situations have also been some of my favorite show memories, though. I was in a production of an Elaine May play, Adaptation, that posits life as a game show with a large ensemble cast. I think that only the host and star of the show-within-the-show played one character. The rest of us played a ton and our “offstage” was sitting in the audience, meaning that we had plenty of asides delivered directly to whomever we wound up sitting next to between scenes. Or, sometimes, we’d turn around and deliver the line to the people behind us or lean forward and deliver it to the people in front of us, which startled the hell out of them.

I also performed in a series of Flash Theatre performances done all over Los Angeles over the course of an entire year and staged by Playwrights Arena, and a lot of those involved interacting directly with our audience, which were a combination of people who knew about it beforehand and (mostly) whichever random folk were in the area when it happened. That is perhaps the most immediate and real fourth wall breaking because there was never a fourth wall in the first place. Or, rather, the audience is inside of it with the cast, even if everyone is outside, and a lot of the shows were. It’s the ultimate environmental theatre, staged with no warning and no invitation.

Even when the play wasn’t designed to break the fourth wall, a director’s staging can make it happen, and I had that experience in a production of Tennessee Williams’s Camino Real, where I basically played Mexican Jesus.

It’s one hot mess of a show that only ran sixty performances originally in 1955, when Williams was at the height of his powers, and I can say for certain that while it’s really fun for the actors to do, I felt sorry for every single audience we did it for. And I am really curious to see what Ethan Hawke manages with his planned film version of it. Maybe that medium will save it, maybe not.

But… our big fourth wall break came when the actress playing my mother (aka “Thinly Veiled Virgin M”) held the “dead” hero in her lap, Pietà style (while I was secretly getting a workout using my right arm to hold up his unsupported shoulders under the cover of the American flag he was draped in), and during her monologue, which was a good three or four minutes, every actor onstage except Mom and “dead” hero (there were 26 of us, I think) started by locking eyes with somebody in the audience house left and then, over the course of the speech, very, very slowly turning our heads, making eye contact with a different audience member and then a still different one, until, by the end of the speech, we were all looking house right.

Ideally, the turning of our heads should have been imperceptible, but our eye contact should have become obvious as soon as the target noticed. I should also mention that since I was down center sitting on the edge of the stage, the nearest audience member to me was about four feet away — and I was wearing some pretty intense black and silver makeup around my eyes, which made them really stand out.

Good times!

I’m glad to say that what I’m doing now — improv with ComedySportz L.A.’s Rec League — is designed to never make the audience uncomfortable, so that no one is forced to participate in any way. And that’s just as fun for us on stage, really, because the participation we get via suggestions and audience volunteers is sincere and enthusiastic. And if our outside audience happens to be too quiet or reticent during a show, we always have the Rec League members who aren’t playing that night as convenient plants who will take up the slack after a decent pause to allow for legitimate suggestions.

Yeah, I won’t lie. I definitely enjoyed those times when I got to screw with audiences. But I enjoy it just as much when we go out of our way to bring the audience onto our side by making them feel safe. I never have anything to be afraid of when I step on stage. I’d love to make our audiences realize that they don’t either.

Image by Image by Mohamed Hassan via Pixaby.

Game night therapy

While it’s generally agreed that animals play, there’s not agreement on why. For a long time, the theory was that play was preparation for adult survivial — learning how to hunt and kill, bonding with specific animals for life, and so on down a long list. Other researchers say no. Play behavior doesn’t confer any of those benefits, but it can have an immediate psychological effect of relieving stress, even if it’s an adult animal that never played as a juvenile.

Humans definitely play games, though, and we make up rather complicated ones. As a member of that species, though, I can definitely say that we play games for a number of reasons, but the main ones are that they’re fun, they are a bonding experience, and they allow us to experience potentially high-stakes loses at no actual cost, at least if we’re not in a casino.

Nobody is losing real money at Monopoly, or Clue, or Chutes and Ladders, or any of however many countless board or card games we’ve invented.

Speaking of cards, though, I have a group of friends that I frequently play Cards Against Humanity with, and one of the ironies is that we are one of the more liberal and progressive bunches you’ll ever meet. But somehow the challenge of coming up with the worst possible non-PC play in the game is kind of the point. In a way, I think it actually armors us against thinking like people who’d agree with some of the combos that come out.

So there’s that “practicing to be an adult” angle, if we realize that the game generally teaches us exactly the wrong things to think, do, or say.

Case in point, to paraphrase just one of the plays from tonight, the question card was “The blind date was going terribly until we both discovered our shared love of _________.” The winning answer was “Auschwitz,” and the person who chose it as the winning card for that round happened to be a Jewish American currently living in Berlin. In fact, his immediate response to seeing that card was to lean back laughing his ass off in that “Oh my god, this is terrible” way that I’m sure we’ve all felt.

But now a slight interlude before I move on to a further salient point on humans and games. Tonight’s Card’s Against Humanity match included the inaugural use of a new set, Cards Against Star Wars, and I have to say that the group opinion of that set was very… lackluster. It had typos and grammatical errors galore, not to mention our quick consensus that there’s no way in hell Disney would have even licensed this and there’s not enough fair use coverage as parody for it to happen. I mean, the cards in this box were as raunchy as anything else from CAH. Then again, a number of them seemed to be free of Star Wars references and just quoted CAH cards.

Since we were playing with all of the CAH decks my friends own, we saw more than a few .repeats of generic, non-themed Cards against Star Wars picks. We were speculating on how it happened. Maybe they had to rush this one out to meet a Christmas deadline? Maybe they had it made cheaply in a country where English isn’t the first language for a lot of workers? (Since a lot of the spellings were British, we thought maybe Hong Kong or Singapore, although they mostly tend to be well educated in that city and that country.

Once I got home, two minutes of internet research revealed that… it’s not an official expansion pack at all. It’s not on the CAH site, but Amazon turns up a bunch of sets with blatant typos in the listings and box art — Cads Against. Cames Against. With both Star Wars and Disney as the targets.

My friends were just as relieved as I was when I shared the news. Our faith in (Cards Against) Humanity was restored.

Still, despite all of that, tonight was an important gaming evening first because it was a birthday pre-party (nearly a week in advance), and second because it gave me the chance to bring together good friends from various times and places in my life who had never met before, and then I got to watch them connect and bond. In one particular case, it was almost like destiny happening. A writing friend of mine had moved to a foreign city five years ago (with great success) and it just happened to be a place an actor/director friend of mine has plans to move to this summer, so they networked like hell, and I got to watch actor/director friend be handed the road-map to do exactly what he wants to do.

Meanwhile, surrogate big sister really hit it off with surrogate little brother (except he should be big brother when it comes to the emotional maturity) and within about ten minutes, this group of insiders (to me) and outsiders (to each other) bonded and it was glorious to see.

Now what I have to wonder is this: Did it happen because I only befriend certain types of people? Or did it happen because the people I tend to befriend are generally cool as fuck?

Maybe a little of both? But the best (pre)birthday present tonight was spending time in a room full of people I love and, thanks to games, getting to know them better.

And that is probably the true function of game play in humans: To bond with the ones you love and rely on, and know that when you’re playing with loved ones, you really can’t lose one way or the other.

Which is why we all need to arrange for and have a regular game night with friends in our lives. Whether it has minimal equipment, like charades or poker night, or it’s something as complicated as Risk or DnD or Settlers of Catan, or whatever… find friends who are into it, get together to do it, invite other friends outside the circle, and watch as magic happens.

How to be a good customer

I’ve been doing a lot of customer service again recently in two different jobs with very different customer bases, but the issues all boil down to the same things. Now, a lot gets made about whether a business has good or bad customer service, and that’s how it should be. If a company provides things to the public, then it’s on them to make sure that the public has their questions answered and needs met.

But, sometimes, customer service can only be as good as the customer, and I’ve seen many a bad online review ripping on some company’s customer service that, in its own internal vagueness and clear misinterpretation, turns out to be proof of its own opposite. That service wasn’t awful because the employee was bad. It was awful because the reviewer was a bad customer.

My current perspective is from two POVs. My day job is with a small company that provides a professional service to people, one that’s very important and necessary to them, is often time-sensitive, and involves a lot of complicated and legally mandated stuff which can often be totally incomprehensible to the layperson.

My side gig is at a live theater, mostly running the box office but sometimes taking over as house manager, which means running the theater and supervising the ushers as well (and sometimes it’s both jobs at once, oh joy!). This theater has two venues in it — a large 360 seat main stage, and a smaller 99 seat performance space. The company I work for has the smaller space.

So I’ll call them DJ (for day job) and Theater from here on out to distinguish. My distant past customer service gigs were for a webstore selling stuff for a minor celebrity, so I’ll call that eTail. Finally, way back in college and just after, I did the obligatory working in retail shtick, for both a major (now defunct) kind of Target-like (but not them) store, and a family owned chain of pharmacies. Well, chain of two back then. It’s a lot bigger now. I’d call the first one Hell and the second one Really Fun, but they probably aren’t going to enter into this. If I do refer to them, they’ll be simply Retail.

Damn. “Retail” is one of those words that looks like it’s spelled wrong the more you think about it, and it sounds more like a veterinary emergency procedure than anything else. But I do digress. Anon, here are some hints and tips to help you be a better customer; and there’s a funny thing that happens when you do this. You get better customer service.

Be prepared

This applies whether you’re making a phone call, going to a store for a specific product, or going to a live event. Gather your information, write it down or memorize it, and try to anticipate the questions you’re going to be asked. For example, if you need a particular toner cartridge or replacement water filter or other whozits or whatsamajiggy for your jimjang, check your manuals or look at the old ones or search online, and get those part numbers. Barring that, at least get the model number of the thing you’re sticking it into and the name of the thing you’re sticking into it. “I need a toner cartridge for a Balzamo BR-521 laser printer” is a lot more helpful than “I need the thing you stick into a printer so it can print.” Hint: depending on the type of printer, that can be anywhere from one to five different things.

If you’re going out to see a show, then take a moment to learn the exact title of that show. Also, it’d be nice if you’d take a moment beforehand to check out the venue and see if they have multiple shows at around the same time. In my Theater job, I can’t count the number of times we’ve had audience wander over to my box office instead of the clearly marked mainstage Will Call, and initiate a conversation that goes like this:

Them: “I have tickets for the show.”

Me: “Which show?”

Them: “Um… the 8  o’clock show.”

Me: “We have two shows at 8. What’s it called?”

Them: (Blank stare.) “Um… something?”

By the way, as soon as they say “8 o’clock show,” I know they’re here for the mainstage, because our audience always knows the name of our show.

The other rather amusing bane of my existence on the unprepared front? There’s a movie theater across the street and a block south of us. Now, we happen to be in a building that was built as an Art Deco movie palace in the 1920s but has been a live theater since the late 1990s, and it’s even got the name on it, which is not the name of the movie theater at all.

The other one doesn’t even look like a movie theater either. It does have a huge sign with its name on it but, unfortunately, it’s conveniently blocked by a badly placed tree that the city really needs to move. Of course, buildings have street numbers for a reason — and yet, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had people rush in, come up to me, and say, “I have two tickets to (latest stupid comic book movie.)” Sure, you do, but not here.

Meanwhile, if you’re calling my DJ or any similar sort of entity, take a moment to write some notes to yourself. Be prepared to answer these questions or just state these things simply. “I’m calling because… (thing),” thing being you have a question, you got an email or letter from us (please have it in front of you), you want to know the status of something, you want to confirm something, you want to talk to a specific person, you’re returning a call from (person), or something else. Your life and mine will be a lot easier if you start out with simple and specific. If you have a question, then elaborate slightly. “I have a question” is useless. “I have a question about… (specific thing)” is much more useful.

Your opening should be no more than “Hi, (statement),” and that statement should be a single sentence covering one of the above. The exception is the statement, “I’m not sure what I need to ask,” which is fine, more on which in a moment. The point is, if you give me a clear, concise, and succinct statement, then odds are about 95% that I’ll know what to ask you, what to tell you, or how to direct you next to make the process go quickly for both of this. And this is even true if you tell me you don’t know what you need to ask for, because then I can go through all the above and find out whether you got a call or email or are a new referral or just have a question about something.

Fast example: “Hi, I got an email with the subject line, ‘We need to update your zoiberflaster.’ What’s that about?” Ooh, a specific. And, in this case, I’ll probably know about the email, will pop open a spreadsheet, and say, “I can help you with that. What’s your last name?” I look up the info, ask you a question, get an answer, boom, done, quick.

Or, “Hi, I got an email from (person).” Also cool. “Great, let me see if they’re available. And, your name?” Boom, boom, done. Yay!

Compare and contrast to:

Them: “I got an email from you.”

Me: “Okay, about what?”

Them: “Oh, I don’t know. It’s on my computer, and I’m on my phone.”

Me: “Do you remember who sent it or the subject?”

Them: “No.”

Me: (Silently mouthing curse words). “Can you find the email right now, or would you like to leave a message and we’ll call you back?”

Remember: If I didn’t send the email, I can’t just magically open Outlook and see who did. Email doesn’t work like that unless you’re an admin. (Hint: 99.9% of people who will answer the phone are not.)

Other things you should not do: Launch into a monologue and not let me ask you anything, which happens far more often than not. And sorry, but, “Hi, I’m (mumbles name) and (five hundred word autobiography with no pauses)” does neither of us any good because once you’re done I’m just going to have to ask you to repeat the important parts, which I didn’t get because they were the lost croutons in the word salad you just served up without letting me get a fork in.

And be prepared continues beyond that first exchange. Please have everything I’m likely to ask a question about written down and in front of you. Always. Hell, if you have to write a script for yourself on what and how to ask, go right on ahead. I will not judge you if you sound like you’re reading stuff to me provided that it’s the right stuff. I’ve had to train myself to do this when making these kinds of calls, and it’s worked wonders.

When you’re calling any business entity you have an account with, have that account number right in front of your face. The way things are set up, just saying, “Hi, I’m Betty Smith at 1234 Main Street” won’t cut it, because just about anyone can go online and find out that this is Betty Smith’s address, which could lead to all kinds of mischief, especially if John Jones across the street decides he hates her and gets his wife to call up the power company, pretend to be Betty, and get the electricity shut off.

That’s why you can’t do things like that without knowing that the account number is whatever ridiculously long and complicated thing is printed on your bill or statement or policy or wherever.

Listen and focus, my eyes are up here

On the phone, this most frequently manifests itself as people trying to go on and add extraneous information while I’m trying to ask them a question or give them an answer, so serves as a corollary to number 1: Ask your question, then shut up and listen. I often get people on the phone who will keep going on when I try to ask them something which would make their babbling unnecessary. When you’re calling in, try this trick. Speak one sentence, then stop. The rep on the other end will either explain something more or ask you for something more. Either or, pan comido, easy peasy.

In real life at the Theater, it’s a bit more frustrating, because I’ve frequently had customers who engaged with me to want to buy tickets, but then they’re suddenly texting on their phone or chatting IRL with the friends who came with them. This is the reverse of that bad customer service move I’ve seen happen in retail checkouts, when the clerk ignores the customer to have a conversation with another clerk or to text on their phone, and it’s just as annoying. You’re here to complete a transaction, IRL, and it’s gotta happen with me, so focus and pay attention to the guy you’re talking to, because I’m going to be asking you questions in order to complete the transaction. How many tickets? How are you paying? What’s your name? Should I email you a receipt? Yeah, if you’re yapping to the other Karen you brought with you, I can’t do my job without being rude and interrupting that shit.

Starting out angry never works

It’s a cliché but it’s true: You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. If you start any customer service transaction in full-on loaded for bear mode, you’re not going to get very far for one simple reason. The first person you deal with isn’t going to be all that inclined to help you, and when you become too demanding and unreasonable, they’re just going to kick you up the food-chain, but you’ll have no pull at all and won’t be any threat to the first, because the second level is going to quickly realize what they’re up against. Why? Because the first level who referred them is going to say, “Hey, Jerry, this person on the line is total nut-bag who demanded to speak to a supervisor, but I already explained X, Y, and Z.”

Jerry will sigh, roll his eyes, briefly empathize, and then say, “Okay, got it,” and will proceed to cut this customer off at the knees.

In customer service circles, people like this are known as Flaming Assholes, and they are the ones that give all of us at every level great joy in applying all of our policies and rules in the most legalistic way possible. Hint: If you approach us nicely, treat us like people, and are polite and deferential, then you are probably going to get more than you asked for if it’s a case of something didn’t quite go right — disappointed with this thing but nice about it? Bam! FREE STUFF! But if you fly in like Queen Bitch/Captain A-Hole on Steroids, basically slapping down the help from the get-go, then you’re going to get nowhere and nothing, and every last clause in the fine print is going to be used to shut you down.

No, you’re not always right

The phrase “The customer is always right” was coined a hundred and ten years ago, in 1909, by Henry Selfridge, founder of Selfridge’s Department Stores, but you have to look at it in context. British society at the time (and even now) was very class conscious, so of course the lowly classes who worked as shop girls and stock boys could not possibly know more or be more correct than the rich fops and knobs who shopped there. It was also a marketing slogan with snob appeal.

In reality, though? Nah. In fact, in my experience over all those jobs, I’d say that customers maybe bat about .250 when it comes to getting it right, if that high at all. In any case, refer back to the sugar/vinegar paradigm. No, you’re not always right, and in particular when dealing with things like my DJ, you’re probably about 95% guaranteed to be wrong if you’re just guessing. We told you a thing for reasons, you probably didn’t remember it or write it down properly, please don’t question us when we tell you that thing again. Thank you. We’ll gently correct you and steer you on the right path if you’re nice, and leave you to figure it out on your own if you’re not.

Be aware of the signals I’m sending

One of the things I enjoy about customer service with people is when I can converse casually, connect on a little deeper level, and swap jokes or empathize, as necessary. But I can’t always do it. It depends on current workload.

On the phone, I’d hope it’d be obvious from whether I’m being casual or terse. In person, especially at the Theater, it should be obvious by whether there’s a line of people standing behind you.

So… if you call up and I sound brusque and business-like, play accordingly, and don’t try to lighten it up with jokes or make conversation. On the other hand, if I seem a bit chatty or jokey, then by all means engage, because it means I’ve got time for that and, believe me, when I can get chatty and show personality with a client, it really does make my day better. But if I don’t, please don’t take it personally.

Likewise, in person, if it’s a slow night, then feel free to make bad Dad Jokes (trust me, I’ve heard them all), or start a conversation, or whatever. But, again, if the lobby is more crowded than the International Terminal at LAX the day before Thanksgiving or I seem otherwise occupied, please just do your business, smile, and go. I won’t take it personally! (Exceptions, of course, for all the regulars I’ve gotten to know, but, ironically, they already know not to take up my time if it’s nuts.)

Never try an end-run — we will block you

This one is a common trick tried by sales people, but self-important clients try it too, and I only run into it on the DJ. The conversation typically goes like this:

Me: “Hello, (company name) this is (me), how can I help you?”

Them: “Yeah, I want to talk to (boss).”

Me: “Can I tell him who’s calling?”

Them: (First name). [Never last name; alarm bell]

Me: “And your last name?”

Them: “He knows me.”

Me: “Right, but I still need your last name.”

Them: [Huffy] (Last name.)

Me: [Looking up in system, finding nothing]. “So what is this regarding?”

Them: “Is (boss) there or not?”

Me: “What company are you with?”

Them: (Names company that I quickly google; it’s a sales call.)

Me: “Okay, let me check.” [Put on hold, count to ten] “Sorry, he’s on the line right now, can I get your name and number?”

Them: [Either] (Name and number) or “No, I’ll call back.” Either way, circular file.

Seriously, sales dudes (and it’s always dudes; sales dudettes are honest), if you want to get through, try this: “Hi, I’m (name) from (company) and have this (product) I think your boss might be interested in to increase his sales. Can I talk to him?”

My reply, “No, because it’s busy season, but please give me your info, because if it does increase his sales, he would definitely be interested.”

And see how that becomes a win-win?

The self-important client version follows the same first few steps, until I have enough info to explain to them how what we do works, and that’s usually enough to mollify them and assure them in a positive way that they are not special and don’t get to jump the line just because they called us before we called them.

The golden rule applies here too

Simple, but stupid. Do unto others. So, whether you’re calling customer service or working customer service, treat the person on the other end of that communication the way you’d want to be treated on yours.

Patience is a virtue that can be necessary whether you’re a customer or customer service, but patience can be very easily tried if either the customer or the service — or both — is bad. Whichever one you are, try to be you best.

Image source: Alpha Stock Images, http://alphastockimages.com/

Reboot

If I were ever to get a tattoo, it would be a phoenix rising from the ashes, because more than any other mythological animal, this symbolizes the regular pattern of my life.

Long-time readers may have noticed that last June, my posting frequency dropped off, and my last post was almost exactly two months ago, with my review of The Play that Goes Wrong. Ironically, this post comes a few days after I returned to the same theater where I saw the aforementioned play, the Ahmanson, to see John Leguizamo’s critically-acclaimed Latin History for Morons.

The reason for my sudden radio silence is that sometimes life catches up. I posted about it in the excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my book. Long story short, the company I’d worked at for ten years imploded, and I was laid off in September, 2017, although I freelanced for them through March 2018. It was this sudden unemployment with a generous severance on top of having saved up a lot, though, that gave me the time to write the first draft of the book between September 2017 and February 2018.

Of course, in my first draft of Chapter Thirteen, I solved all my problems, got over my depression, and everything was great… except, what I didn’t know at the time, was that the recovery was temporary, and that chapter is going to need a huge rewrite and/or become a, “Hey, if you want the full story on this one, read the sequel.”

At the time, I was lining up a lot of freelance clients, and getting a lot of promises of work, and everything seemed great. This is also when I got more involved with my improv company ComedySportz L.A., moving onto their staff as Box Office Dude after I applied for a full-time position as Office Administrator, but it was one of those cases of, “We’d already picked someone internally, but you impressed us for asking, so here’s this other thing.”

So… for a while, things were still kind of fun. I was getting unemployment, had a lot of money in the bank, and was bringing in grocery and entertainment money from the Box Office gig. ComedySportz L.A. also hosted the ComedySportz World Championships that year, so I wound up an insider fast, and pretty soon was working every box office shift. I also got to meet a bunch of great improvisers from all over the U.S. and a few from the UK, and even got to scrimmage with them in an evening of non-stop improv games.

It was great because it left my days free and I was still picking up freelance gigs here and there. The pay at CSz wasn’t great and the hours were far from full-time, but between that, unemployment, and freelancing, I was kind of breaking even-ish. I’d managed to Tarzan-swing my way all the way to the end of 2018, and an unexpected boon that came at the start of 2019 kept me going.

What I haven’t mentioned yet is that this entire time I was applying my ass off on job sites for fulltime work in what I’d been doing — content creation and editing, writing, proofreading, SEO, and so on. A lot of the time, when I’d see a referral on Big Name Job Site, I’d go find the listing on the company site instead, to make sure it wasn’t stale old crap, and then apply directly.

And… my god, the ghosting in job applications is as bad as it is in dating apps. Here’s a simple clue, both for HR people and thirsters: If you’re not interested in someone, say so. “Thank you, but we decided to go in a different direction.” “Hey, nice photo, but you’re not my type.” It’s simple, it’s factual, and it’s not an insult. But it does tell the hopeful applicant to stop wasting their time.

The other waste of time? Online job boards. Sometimes, even personal connections don’t work, particularly if you’re making a big jump from one career to another.

Remember: I’ve worked in entertainment or creative fields, or adjacent to, almost my entire adult life. I started right out of college in an office job for one of the big entertainment unions, but wound up being fired after a department split and new pig of a manager whose biggest issues with me were probably that I was openly gay and didn’t have tits. This almost exactly coincided with me finding out that my first ever produced full-length play was going to be done by South Coast Rep, which was a huge deal. This is called “starting at the top.”

After the whirlwind of fame and fortune from that production, I bounced around, with only one muggle temp gig as an accountant for about a year and a half. Otherwise, I received a fellowship for a screenwriting program sponsored by Universal Studios and Steven Spielberg’s Amblin’ Entertainment, worked as listings editor for a specialized LGBTQ community directory that was the first ever on the internet, worked for Spelling Television as a script coordinator for Melrose Place, 7th Heaven, and the show you’ve never heard of, Safe Harbor. I even wrote for 7th Heaven briefly (as in one episode that I still get residuals for), which amuses people who know me, because it’s got to be the biggest sensibility mismatch of all time.

After that, I passed through Warner Home Video and Dreamworks Animation SKG in long-term temporary assignments, then wound up at the Dog Whisperer’s own web company as a “two day” emergency temp thing. Except that they liked me, kept asking me back, and then hired me full time about two months later.

So now we’re caught up, and back to that whole “particularly if you’re making a big jump from one career to another” thing. I even signing up with a traditional temp agency, and despite my experience, they refused to even see me because their clients didn’t want people with no “office experience.” Well, where the hell do they think people in entertainment-related fields work? Hint: all of my full-time entertainment jobs were in actual offices. Only the productions, which were 99% theatre, took place in, well, theaters.

But the lack of “Yes, and” from all these applications finally got me to such a point of desperation that I applied for a grocery stocker job with a certain large, local chain whose parent company rhymes with Ogre and the chain itself rhymes with Alf’s. They gave me a phone interview and offered me a position, which would have meshed with my box office schedule. The problem is that they were offering less than small company minimum wage (by about 20 cents an hour), and they probably used some “This store only has X employees” BS to justify it despite being a huge chain. Although how they can get away with paying less than minimum is beyond me. No wonder the checkers are talking about striking again.

Another chain, which rhymes with Nader Blows, pays a lot more to start, but I didn’t get to them before circumstances intervened. Just as I was about to pull the trigger and sell my soul to a grueling and stupid night shift weekdays, late shift weekends, no life ever routine, the summer bailed me out, because ComedySportz suddenly needed someone to help them coordinate enrolling high school students for their annual summer improv camp, and wrangling the paperwork (i.e. the parents), followed up by the same process for preparing for the start of the new High School League season, so I was in the office a lot, and it got me through June, July, and August, since it became almost (and sometimes more than) a full-time job.

And then, the old adage “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” came true in spades. After all the fruitless job searching and résumé sending, an old friend’s wife referred me to a friend/client of theirs in desperate need of an administrative assistant in about the most non-entertainment, officey field there is: Insurance. Specifically, health insurance, and he specializes in guiding people through the maze that is Medicare.

I started the job on August 27 — exactly 12 days shy of two years managing to survive without any fulltime day job. And so… it’s back to a regular schedule and stability, and I hope that I’ll be posting here again more often. Of course, it might also interest you all to know this: I registered this domain and started this site while I was literally sitting in a hotel conference room, working as Check-In person and general assistant for a marketing seminar run by the two aforementioned people who got me this current job, and I did this right after I’d lost my fulltime job with the intention of using this blog as a marketing tool for the book and myself.

In the two years since then, it’s become so much more. It’s appropriate, then, that this latest Phoenix rise happens in September. Finally, I should also point out that while my site’s colors are definitely a nod to nostalgia for the naughts, they are also symbolic in this context. Orange represents the flames into which the phoenix falls, black represents the ashes of the abandoned and old, and white represents the purity of rebirth. Plus orange is my favorite color.

Image by Mystic Art Design.