at a bookstore recently—remember those?—The Stoneslide was reminded of an important restaurant maxim. A customer two people ahead was complaining with vigor and petulance about an inconsequential matter. She was laying into the clerk, too, not only the store, despite this being out of the clerk’s control. The clerk was a pro, though, letting the woman’s illegitimate vitriol drip off her like the midnight spray in a dive bar on New Year’s Eve. As I watched the clerk take it like a champ, I recalled the ageless piece of wisdom that the only thing worse than a customer speaking is a customer complaining.
While waiting to check out
stonesl
