January 20, 2007

• Filled with enthusiasm, BQ and I scoured Chinatown Complex for travel deals on Thursday. To some extent, we achieved our aim, but also received a lesson on how to provide bad customer service.

  Our first stop was an agency which my Junior College mate worked at. If looks could kill, we would have died instantaneously when his gaze shifted towards us. I could feel his piercing stare boring a hole in my body as we walked towards him. Nevertheless, we requested for quotes for three possible destinations and moved on. I will probably enquire if he had an off day when I meet him next week.

  The lady at a rival company who attended to us looked like her boyfriend just dumped her, but not before shagging her and pocketing her savings. BQ and I certainly did not feel like customers, we felt more like we were unable to stump up the latest installment that we owed the bank and we were there to offer our sorry excuses. She certainly did not look too pleased with our pathetic explanations. We were transported back to reality when we were handed the quotes and made an exit.

  The third chap who served us was marginally better, telling us to take the brochures ourselves instead of churning out the figures from his computer. Oh well, at least he did not look pissed at having customers. The ladies at the fourth shop we strolled into may have had major vision problems. Either that or they would be fined for every minute that their eyes were not fixated on their computer monitor screens. After looking at their brochures and discussing them without any assistance for a few minutes, we decided to ask for prices and details. She produced them without acknowledging us at all, she could well have been talking to another colleague via some secret communication device found in the monitor or keyboard.

  Deflated, we ended the bargain hunting session and headed elsewhere.

  • 5:10 am
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