I recall a time a few years ago, when I was freelancing and sitting in a coffee shop trying to write, a man was sitting next to me, dozing, and then snoring. Forgive if you will my graphic depiction of these snores: they were juicy. You could actually hear snot and other mucous throat matter reverberating at the back of his throat. Needless to say, the sound was distracting.
This wasn't the first time I'd heard this guy snore. I'd come to this cafe several times a week for some "quiet" time, and was becoming increasingly upset that my experience was interrupted by this man who wore hospital scrubs and clearly used the velvet Starbucks chairs as an upgrade to a hospital gurney during his nap breaks.
"Get over it," I said to myself. "This is a public place, there's no sign that says 'no sleeping'. He's not willfully trying to upset you."
This rationale lasted about three minutes. I kept stopping my blog in mid-sentence, unable to complete my work. The snores seemed to get louder, and increasingly irregular. I'm not sure what came over me.
"Scuse me sir," I said, tapping the man's knee. "Your snoring is getting really loud. Do you think you could stop?"
There's something about being stopped by strangers who request something--you need to orient yourself and determine whether or not they are crazy. You can see the processing occurring. Even if you might want to do what a stranger asks, their request is an affront. This man reacted badly. He told me to mind my own business. I told him that wasn't possible when he snored like a buzzsaw. He yelled at me some more, and a Starbucks employee told me that it really wasn't my place to tell this guy to shut up.
Still, I thought I had to ask. Sure, there are rules, but do we get the experiences we want if we don't, say, ask for a table closer to the window, ask for fresh water, request that people stop snoring? I know people think I'm being rude. But I'm just trying to improve my experience. People may tell me to go to hell, but they may say, yes, too. Or sorry. And that's all we really want.
This happened again last week, at my gym. There's a sign-up sheet at my gym that I didn't bother with, because no one was there when I arrived. An older man arrived, signed his name in my slot and then told me to get off the treadmill I was using. Rules are rules, so I got off, but I was irritated. Simple human decency would dictate that he ask me when I would be finished with my run, or that I finish within the half hour limit, and that he sign up for the equipment after I was finished.
I told him that I thought he was being inappropriate, but he shooed me away and referred to the sign that requested that people sign up for the equipment.
The employee at the gym offered me a free class for my trouble, but still I seethed from the bicycles. I felt that the spirit of the rules was being violated. I did nothing for a while, but then a friend of mine arrived, feeling a bit blue about how she felt some of the people at the gym were rude to her.
"We just don't stand up for ourselves," she said, referring to some men who had been mean to her.
That was all the ammunition I needed. I approached the man again. I didn't yell; I told him that I thought he should have handled the situation differently, and that I thought he was abusing the rules and taking advantage of me.
Again, you really shouldn't do this, especially to a man in a room of other men. He didn't appreciate my comment; he started yelling at me, then (literally) told on me to the owner of the gym, who wansn't there, but whom he knew personally, and apparently this was supposed to mean something.
"She wants to talk to you," the guy said to me, holding out a phone receiver at the front desk.
"Do you really want to do this?" I asked the guy. He didn't know that I have a legacy of crazies in my family who actually will take things to the point of absurdity. Case in point: once, my father took the microphone from a cashier at Burger King and began to dictate to the kitchen what he needed, since the cashier was too useless to do it right. Dad got kicked out, but he seemed happy about it. I always vowed I would never be like my Dad, confrontational. But if I ever felt that something pertaining to a customer experience was unfair I often couldn't get through my day without at least trying to get some monetary or emotional reimbursement for it. This man had no idea that he had triggered the justice switch in my head that, when activated, would stop at nothing, even being thrown out of a gym, until I felt I'd been heard.
The gym owner, L, was a nice lady. Though she didn't let on, I can't help but think she was grateful she wasn't there in person to have to mediate my dispute with Treadmill Man (TM).
A complicating factor: I hadn't placed my beef with TM in a very timely manner; I had to leave: It was h-band's birthday, and I'd made a reservation at a fat place in the city and really needed to get out of there.
"Hi L, this is Jory Des Jardins. I have to be brief because it's my husband's birthday." This elicited a scoffing "Give me a break!" from TM.
"Hi Jory. I understand there is a problem with you and P---."
So that was his name.
"Yes. I took issue with something, and he's taken issue with the fact that I've taken issue. I'm sorry you had to be called about this."
L did what anyone else with customer service skill, who has to deal with two nutjobs, would do; she appeased us.
"I'm sorry there's been a conflict."
"Thank you."
"I plan to order another treadmill."
"I appreciate that. I just didn't like being kicked off equipment when I was here before he was."
"I understand."
"I know, thank you."
"Can you put P back on?"
"Sure."
It was a pointless exercise. As I told H-band about it later, at his birthday dinner, he was incredulous.
"Why do you let it get to that?" he said.
"I didn't let it get to that," I insisted. He was the one flailing around, insisting on getting the owner on the phone.
"But did you have to approach him?" H-band said.
I wanted to insist again that I was simply standing up for myself. It was my workout that this man was interrupting. He was messing with my time because he thought he could, because he had no respect for the woman who had not signed the sign-up sheet but was clearly there and using the equipment first. Because I would never have done that. Because this guy needed to know that people won't just roll over for him. Because ...
But let's face it, rules are rules.
"Yes," I said to h-band, answering his question, "I did."