A letter to every store on the West Side of Chicago

I have recently had terrible horrible no good very bad experiences with employees at various establishments through out the suburbs of Chicago.

Just yesterday I experienced all of the following:
1) Rude employees who continued talking to each other rather than ask me if I needed something while I stood at the counter directly in front of them clearly ready with a question.
2) Rude employees who pushed and pushed their business on me with no regard to what I was looking for or wanted
3) Rude employees who simply looked at me and gave me a one word answer to a complex question.

And so, I'm taking matters into my own hands. I'm writing a letter.

Dear Customer Service Representatives and Sales Associates of greater Chicagoland (particularly you, western suburbs),

My name is Emily. I frequent your establishment. And by frequent, I truly mean frequent. I enjoy shopping. I do all the shopping for my small family of two. But don't let our numbers deceive you. What I lack in family members, I more than make up for in the sheer number of trips to your fine store. I adore what you have to offer me, whether that be hooks to hang my bags in my newly organized closet or a new bag to hang on that new hook in my newly organized closet. I'm very much a "If you give a mouse a cookie..." kind of shopper.

You may not know me, but you probably should. I shop and I scout out good deals. And then I tell my friends. And my extended family. And maybe even my blog. Then they tell their friends. And pretty soon, the entire country is shopping in your store, saying, "What's up fine establishment? Emily sent me." 

Which brings me to my point. Even if you don't know me, I still deserve to be treated with respect and greeted with a smile, no matter how fake that smile might be. You should be glad to see me walk into your store because without little old me and millions of other little old mes, you would be out of a job. And in this fine economy, is that really something you want to risk?

You see, I'm a teacher. And allow me to tell you something about teachers: we're all the greatest actors you never knew you'd seen. I teach English. You think I'm really that excited about the difference between the past and present prefect? Because I'm not. Or how about how to use they're, their and there correctly? Because I saw your facebook and you didn't use them correctly. Am I excited about them? Mmmnope. But do you think I'm excited about them? You sure do. Because I sell it to you. I could come in the classroom with the weight of the world on my shoulders and you would never know because I would never show it. Heck, I've taught a class having just wiped tears from my eyes and you didn't even notice because when you walk in, I throw on a smile, I ask about your day and I start in on the lesson with just as much enthusiasm as I would have if I were out buying a new pair of shoes. I love teaching, yes, but I do not love every lesson or even every student, if we're being totally honest. But you, my student, would never know. Because I'm good.

So take a moment, employees of fine establishments throughout the Chicago suburbs, and think about your favorite teacher. You loved her because she was so fun and cared so much about you? Guess what? She wasn't having fun and she didn't like you because you picked on other kids and made her job more difficult. But she would never tell you that. And you would never know (well, until now). 

Make me feel like your favorite teacher made you feel. Like me or absolutely loathe me, it is actually your job to treat me as a decent human being just like your teacher treated you, you snot-nosed, hair-pulling little twit. And shoot, I'll even make it easy on you. I'll be pleasant. I'll probably even ask you how you're doing before you ask me. And I'll do it with a smile.

And then I'll tell everyone how wonderful you were and how they should shop there. 

And you'll continue receiving a paycheck in this terrible economy.

Love and respect,
Emily (and all your teachers who never told you how awful you were but told me to tell you)

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