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What to do when reality tramples on expectation?
The service was very professional, but what I’d imagined it to be was far removed from reality.
Last weekend, I went to the salon to have my hair washed. I noticed right away that the young man I was handed over to by the receptionist was new on the job. It was in the way he was careful not to scrub my scalp really hard, such that I had to encourage him, many times, to apply more pressure.
It was also in the way that he took his time washing the hair and the many times he reached for the shampoo. A seasoned hairdresser would have done a quick, (but thorough) job of it and moved on to the next customer; time is money, you know.
As it is, thanks to the newbie, I ended up also having a free scalp massage, which was so relaxing, I almost dozed off at the sink. At some point, I swear I spotted the manager giving him a disapproving look that was supposed to convey the fact that the money I was going to pay afterwards would not cover the extra services I was getting. I really hope that the manager did not give this dedicated employee a tongue lashing for offering services that were not billed.
Which brings me to the question: why is it that many of us lose the dedication and passion we had churning in us when we were new on the job or as newly minted professionals? I ask this because largely, our customer service end of things in this country is wanting.
It is so wanting, such that when we seek a service and are treated exceptionally well, we are so grateful, so pleasantly surprised, that we even go on social media to sing praises for the company in question, never mind that we fully paid for the service, including VAT, and therefore deserved to be treated well, like royalty even.
But I was talking about massage. Two years ago, on my birthday, someone gifted me a massage voucher for a spa. I’d never had one, but from the movies I’d seen, a massage is enjoyed more if you go with a friend.
In those movies, the friends would gossip away and laugh heartily as a masseur or masseuse kneaded away the built-up tension and anxiety of modern-day living from their bodies, and afterwards, they would sip a glass of wine or a cup of mint and chamomile tea ensconced in deep, fluffy armchairs in a lush garden full of flowers and birds, dressed in white robes. I couldn’t wait to go.
I finally did go, and tagged a fun friend along. The spa was in Gigiri, Nairobi, so it was high-end. It had a lush garden too, and every room smelt of eucalyptus, which seemed to improve the quality of my breathing. To cut a long story short, I did not enjoy the experience.
Yes, the service was very professional, but what I’d imagined it to be was far removed from reality. My friend and I were placed in the same room, but I soon found out that talking about private matters with two other strangers in the room was not practical, and so we went through the whole process with our mouths shut.
Don’t believe everything you see in the movies, I tell you. Also, my friend ended up dozing off at some point and had to be shaken awake. The only saving grace is that we did end up taking a cup of herbal tea in the garden, even though by that time we had changed into our clothes and paid the bill. Oh, well.
