You don’t need me to tell you that times are tough.
Predicting financial calamity, bankers have finally gotten through to the politicians they so carefully bought and sold over the years, demanding vast sums of public money to fix their ragged bottom lines. But because money doesn’t materialize out of thin air, politicians are then left to explain to us how they’re going to take it from the programs that actually help people. If their explanations are falling a bit flat for you, let me break it down:
You went out to lunch with three fat cats. They ordered six lobsters, eight filet mignon, shrimp cocktails all around, and washed it down with five bottles of Dom Perignon. You ordered the small salad and a glass of water. Now, when the check arrives, they excuse themselves from the table, leaving the waiter to explain to you why you owe $3000. You can cry all you want about only having a salad, but the fat cats are gone and you alone bear the responsibility to the restaurant.
Sound bad? Multiply that by thousands of unpaid restaurants, who then have to lay off hundreds of thousands of workers and cut corners with the food. And our fat friends who got us into this mess? They’re burping and rubbing their bellies, knowing that no matter what they do, we’re still going to take them out to dinner later.
Belt tightening measures have begun in communities nationwide, and regular folks are screaming bloody murder. Politicians from City Hall to Capitol Hill are at each other’s throats, each accusing the other side of squandering our dwindling tax dollars.
Witness the city’s short-lived idea of charging residents for weekly trash pickup. So great was the hue and cry from the local gentry, Mayor Nutter shelved the idea before it could gain traction.
Yet with the commonwealth of Pennsylvania facing a potential budget shortfall of more than 2 billion dollars, we’re spending $173,000 on courtesy training for liquor store clerks.
That’s right. Pennsylvania’s 4,000 liquor store clerks will, thanks to your hard earned cash, learn to say “hello” when you enter the store, and “thank you, come again” when you leave.
If you’re a regular Tribune reader, and I hope you are, you know that I am the first one to hop on a soapbox to decry the lack of common courtesy, and our society’s casual acceptance of rude behavior. I have personally been a customer in liquor stores once or twice, and there’s no doubt that some training in that regard would be a good idea.
But $173,000?
Turns out that the company the state hired to do the trainings, Pittsburgh-based consulting firm Solutions 21, is owned by John “Buddy” Hobart. In what I am sure is a mere coincidence, Hobart’s wife Susanne just happens to be the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board's Western Regional Manager of Retail Operations.
Try to act surprised.
I have a solution to the problem – and I’m willing to give it to the governor for free.
Write a memo to the clerks, managers, and other employees saying simply, “Treat every customer with courtesy and respect or you’re fired.” That means no yakking on cell phones, no standing there disinterested while the customer has to look over your shoulder at the cash register to see their total, no agonized sighing when asked a question.
Hey, if you really want to get customer friendly, you might even hire a few people who know something about wines and spirits. Perhaps someone who could assist in choosing a wine for a special meal, or who knows a single malt scotch from rot gut.
To be honest, I’m not sure that any amount of training as an adult can replace the home training they should have received as children. No one will ever admit to being rude or discourteous, and folks will see no real need to change their behavior just because they had a training session. It’s all carrot and no stick.
But you attach that helpfulness and courtesy directly to their ability to keep their jobs, earn promotion, and be eligible for bonuses, and watch the overnight attitude adjustment. Their faces will hurt from smiling, and your local liquor store will replace Disneyland as the happiest place on earth.
See? I just saved the state $173,000. Don’t ever say I’m not doing my part to help our struggling economy.
