Hippies in theory are a sound idea. Any person or group who advocates a counterculture perspective is a good thing for society. Unfortunately the Hippie movement has failed to gain any traction or leave any legacy over the past forty years. Sure, there was a spike in Hippie activity directly after "Hippie-Genesis" occurred in the 1960's but throughout the following decades the thrust of being a Hippie lost all importance and credibility. If you asked an average Joe on the street today to describe a Hippie they would render them down to drugs, joblessness, The Grateful Dead or Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. Although there are many flaws with Hippies (shudder) the most glaring error in their evolution is the lack of a Hippie moderate.
As I see it there are two predominant groups of Hippies:
1) The Dirty Hippies.
2) The New Agers.
The Dirty Hippies are the easily recognized Spicoli type. Part surfer, part skateboarder, part singer-songwriter. You'll often smell them coming before you actually see them. Not because they rarely bathe (which they don't) but because they'll be driving a biodiesel Volvo puffing exhaust clouds of repurposed french fry oil. In the back yard of their shared housing they will most likely have a complex handmade filtration system that indirectly irrigates thier tomato garden with excreted piss and shit. Almost all Dirty Hippies have an idiot savant knowledge on the multifaceted uses for hemp as well as the beneficial applications of medicinal marijuana. Don't be fooled by a DH's lopsided information ratio, you see Hippies are not consumed with the legalization of drugs for their own recreational benefits NO! they are in fact fighting a war on personal freedoms. Armed with ponchos, patchouli oil and puka shell necklaces these birkenstock bearers will never harsh your mellow.
New Agers are to Hippies as born again Christians are to Christianity. Born Agains are essentially criminals or deviants who did terrible things early on in their lives that forced them into rehab or jail. During their time in the clink they rediscover the word of God in order to absolve their sins. The byproduct of being reintroduced into the faith however is an overwhelming desire to (cram their beliefs) instruct any non believer that they might encounter in their daily lives.
New Agers are usually former Hippies who abandoned the Hippie lifestyle once they realized that love (and LSD) could not in fact conquer all. They threw away their bandanas, suited up and got real jobs for a couple of decades so that they could pay the bills. But, the nagging desire to celebrate their vague spirituality and fascination with the healing power of gems finally overcame them. All of their repressed Hippie urges started a wheat-grass-roots campaign in the bottom of their souls and began screaming "Kumbaya." What resulted was a need to preach Hippie platitudes funded with the finances collected during their time working for "The Man." Whether they are on their way to Whole Foods or a Phish concert or just topping up their Tesla with a fresh laptop battery a New Ager is never too busy to pontificate on the dangers of plastic, the importance of recycling or the necessity to integrate solar panels into every light reflecting surface on the planet.
The unfortunate consequence of the New Ager's monetary success manifests itself in a lack of awareness of how the other 99% actually live. The average American does not have the 50 extra dollars necessary to purchase a pound of organic buckwheat nor do they have the means to buy and service a Prius.
What Hippies have created then is disconnect. In one instance you have young (perhaps misguided) drug laden folk with a passion for living off of the grid. On the other hand you have organic elitists whose monetary class renders them unrelatable to the rest of the world. It is not just a matter of money either. Like a modern day Atheist New Ager's operate with righteous indignation. It is not enough to provide information and to be inclusive of any step in the right direction. Anyone who has been to a Trader Joe's knows the smug look you get from your fellow shoppers if you forget to bring your reusable nylon bags and instead have to opt for a paper one. The irony of course is that the Hippie culture was a response to popular culture and like other countercultures was intended as a refuge for all of the freaks and nutters of society. What it ultimately has created however is a no man's land that only seems to breed spite and derision.
This isn't going to be a quasi racist rant about the cultural divide between the customer and customer service "specialist". I don't want to dissect the time I went into a Mcdonald's and asked the lady mopping the floor what the address was. I don't want to tell you that she lead me through a corridor of people into the children's playroom whereby she pried a small mexican child out of a high chair and attempted to hand to me said high chair with a satisfied look on her face. I don't want to tell you how I had to nervously negotiate with the confused and angered mother for information about the buildings address all the while explaining with my eyes that I did not intend to uproot their family fun at Mcdonald's by covertly heisting their high chair.
This isn't going to a rant about how back in my day retail employees knew the ins and outs of the products that they were selling. I don't want to nostalgically remember a past era and celebrate a nobler time that perhaps we the people of earth may have taken for granted. I realize that in order for progress to occur that time has to march on and with that marching on some of things that we are fond of are replaced, reinvented or removed entirely. The question I am out to answer in regard to customer service in the immortal words of Office Space is: "What would you say...you do here?"
Allow me to quickly set the scene. My wife has a yellow car and it has a long scratch on the passenger side door. Whether a mysterious stranger keyed the car or my wife secretly ran into something we'll never know. On a day when I was filled with ambition and a great sense of manliness I decided that I had had enough of the blight on the car door and I was going to once and for all (read: poorly disguise) the problem with some yellow touch up paint. Unlike other brave fools I wasn't about to go Autozone empty handed. Before leaving the house I logged onto google slash the internet.com to make sure that the item was available at my local Autozone and that it was in stock for my car model. Thankfully it was and so off I went to ascertain the item.
As a rule of thumb I am generally curt with people in my neighborhood because I live in what can lovingly be called the ghetto and I don't like to invite any unwanted attention/conversations/pleas for drug money. As a rule of thumb I am generally curt with store employees because I am an express shopper. I plan my purchases before I walk into the store, I have my cash counted or the card that I am going to swipe at the top position in my wallet to engender a quick and problem free cash-out experience. I generally view people in the store aisles as pylons to swerve around rather than potential new best friends.
However, on this particular occasion I was turning over a new leaf, there was a rainbow in the sky. The morning sunlight softly glinted off the crackhead sleeping in the ditch in front of my house in such a way that it told me everything was going to be okay. I decided that if I needed help I was going to ask for it instead of angrily rushing past people.
I walked into Autozone and immediately looked up to read the signs that indicated what items were in the aisles. I quickly found the "paint/touch up" aisle AND the touch up paint itself. Using a hunt and peck technique that I learned from my father's typing skills I was able to locate the "Ford" section and the "Yellow" subsection. Unfortunately the paint I located was not a bright canary yellow but a dull bronzy yellow. Immediately I felt the hate and distrust for the world begin to swell inside of me. BUT NO! I waved it off. Surely a nearby Autozone employee could help me solve my problem or at the very least point me in the right direction RIGHT?
Grasping the chrome yellow paint tube in my hand I walked out into the main aisle and waited in line until a "Specialist" was available. A gentlemen in his twenties (a fluent English speaker I might add) asked: "Can I help you?" to which I accidentally sarcastically blurted out: "I sure hope so." Our following conversation went something like this:
Me: I'm looking for yellow touch up paint for my Ford Focus. (Pauses to make sure he understands.) Also, I just went to the TOUCH UP PAINT AISLE and the only one that I could locate was this bronzy yellow which doesn't look like my car color. (points left through a set of double doors where car is parked and in plain sight.)
Him: Yeah, that doesn't look like the right color.
Me: I didn't think so either. However, it does say "duplicolor" on the side of the container. Is it possible that perhaps this color is a generic yellow that somehow "duplicates" the original color when it is applied as a top coat of paint?"
Him: I wouldn't know...Let's go and see if I can help you find the correct color.
We walk back over to the paint aisle whereupon he locates the book filled with car models and their paint codes.
Him: What kinda paint U want? U want The big can...
Me: No, I want the tiny touch up paint bottle (holds up touch up paint in his hand) in canary yellow.
He proceeds to ask my make, year and model of car and looks it up in the book. Before he is finished he is called away by someone else. He leaves me with the book to look it up myself which I do. According to the book there is only one color of yellow available for my car and it just so happens that it is the very same bottle that I already have IN MY HAND.
A little bewildered I stepped back into the main aisle to ask for a second opinion. I located another gentleman dressed in Autozone attire who is sitting behind a computer. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey I just talked to that guy (points to that guy) and we couldn't figure out if this paint (points to paint) is the correct color for that car (points through the window at my car).
Him: Well, the paint looks nothing like the paint that is on that car.
Me: Yes, I am aware. However, the only paint listed in the book for my car make/year/model is that paint and my car is painted a factory color. While you guys might be out of stock where my car color is concerned don't you think the paint color would at the very least be listed in the book if it existed?
Him: Probably.
Me: Well...(waits expectantly for the employee to perform any action besides a dead stare.)
Him: That is not the same color.
Me: I realize that but perhaps the color inside is different and/or perhaps it contains some color match technology. As you can see this color (points to bottle) is an orangy, coppery, goldy color. Perhaps the color is different inside the bottle than the color expressed on the outside of the bottle because it is made to cover a range of colors???.
Him: I dunno.
Me: So If I buy this and it's the wrong color what then?
Him: We do not do refunds on opened merchandise.
Cue me walking off stage left, fade to black.
The point of this story (finally) is that I do not begrudge a low paid/poorly trained employee for having little to no interest in a meaningless job. Further, I do not expect them to know the ins and outs of their products BECAUSE of their limited training. What I do begrudge however is the lack of thinking critically to look for alternate solutions. The simple act of one of the guys going into a back room and rattling a metal cage or making a phone call or feigning to look up something on the internet in an attempt to actually solve my problem would have increased my opinion of their customer service greatly. What is the point of hiring employees whose only skill it seems is the ability to click a mouse three times, swipe my card and occasionally remember to say "Have a good day." Further, what is the point of paying 12 employees for the same work that could be done by an automated kiosk and a security guard? Also, I later googled "Ford Chrome yellow" and the following is what I found:
