POLICY

"I'll have the broiled salmon please. But can I have it without the cream sauce? I'm lactose intolerant."

"Would you like to have it on the side?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

...ten minutes later...

"Um...you said you'd bring it on the side. This salmon is swiming in cream sauce"

"Yeah, it comes that way automatically."

"Automatically? What, did you get it out of a machine?"

This is, word-for-word, a conversation I had several days ago at a restaurant across the street from where I work. Did she forget to order it on the side? Did the cook scoff at her and refuse to do it? Or was everyone who works in the restaurant bound by some invisible code of conformity? There was no apology, no offer to make it right. She said her line, I said mine, and she departed into the haze as swiftly as she'd appeared. The sauce on the fish was "automatic". There was nothing either of us could have done about it. We are helpless against the forces that have driven us into this unfortunate situation. I must have the cream sauce. The cream sauce is automatic. I hear and I obey.

Now I've been thinking about how many times, day to day, I encounter the mysterious force that controls the minds and actions of waitstaff, clerks, customer service reps, and most others in the service industry. The force has a name. It is called "Policy". (ominous tone) No one knows where it came from, or why it's here. They only know that they must obey, even if it means forsaking courtesy, productivity, or even simple common sense.

Whenever I go see my doctor, which has been somewhat frequently lately, the receptionist reminds me that I have a balance, and hands me a copy of the invoice.

"Would you like to pay the balance today by credit card?"

"No thanks, we mail these in. Also, I don't need this copy. I get these in the mail."

"Well, we have to give them to you."

"Why?"

"Because you might say you didn't get it in the mail."

"But...I just did."

Again, logic is cast away in favor of serving the Almighty Policy. The ability to think and to act, or even treat a customer as a human being is stripped away, and replaced with robotic obedience to the Lord and Master.

In the time of the Roman Empire, the army devised an ingenious method of defense and assault which was called the phalanx. Soldiers in the front line of the formation would lock their shields together forming an impenetrable, forward-moving wall. They could thrust their spears above the shields to gore the enemy while remaining virtually untouchable. America's legions of heroic clerks wage battles against The Customer in much the same way. Their phalanx is an array of complex and indisputable rules of engagement that bear down on us, driving us back as we are impaled by self-righteousness and an aggressive lack of patience. Each time we charge forward, we are beaten back in defeat.

"You can have soup. If you want to substitute salad I'll have to charge you extra."

"AHHH!"

"If you don't have the receipt, I can't accept it, even if it's shrink-wrapped in the orginal packaging and has our price sticker on it."

"OWWWW...OH GOD!"

"You're in the wrong line. You'll have to go wait at the end of the other line."

"NOOO, PLEASE STOP! ARRRRGGGH!"

"What's the reason you want to cancel your online service? I HAVE TO put down a reason."

"OHHH...woe is me. I lie down before you awaiting the blessing of death."

"The fish..."

"OH!"

"...comes that way..."

"AHHH"

"...automatically!"

"unghhhh.......( in a barely audible whisper) thank...you."