So many people seem inclined to be bad customers that I thought I would offer some tips from a professional. If being a bad customer isn’t your bag, though, you’ll want to tune in again in a few days for some different ideas.

Complain about the cost of dry cleaning.

Most of our customers and all of our regulars fall into one of two categories: reasonably well-off, or employed by someone who is very well-off. The latter never complain about the price, of course, since they’re not bringing their own clothes or spending their own money. But from time to time someone will make a surprised noise at the bill and ask if the prices have gone up, or make a point of looking at the invoice to see which pieces were how much. I have all kinds of stock responses: some pieces take extra pressing time or otherwise more attention, all the dry cleaners are raising their prices because the suppliers’ prices have gone up–which is true–and if I’m feeling friendly I’ll add something sympathetic about how everything is getting pricier these days.

In point of fact I have no sympathy whatsoever. About rising food prices, yes, absolutely; even for gas, which isn’t life-or-death but still a necessity for some people, I can understand feeling pinched. But dry cleaning is a luxury, plain and simple. Plenty of the clothes people bring us don’t even need to be dry cleaned–they can be hand-washed or even machine washed on a gentle cycle. Even for things that really are dry clean only, you made the choice to buy and wear something that’s more expensive than it is practical. Complaining about how expensive it is to have your Prada blouse cleaned? Oh, please.

Besides, we’re the most expensive dry cleaners for miles, and there are two others within a block in each direction. Don’t blame us if you didn’t shop around.

Respond to “How are you” with your name.

We counter people don’t actually have a script, like telemarketers and a lot of tech support people do, but we may as well have. It starts with “Good morning, how are you?” or the time-appropriate variant thereof. There is a brief exchange of pleasantries, and then we get down to business. Sometimes people are in a hurry; I respect that. You can respond with simply “How are you,” as if it were itself a greeting, and I’ll understand and move on to the important bits. But if you’re going to do it, do it gracefully. When I say “How are you” and you say “Johnson. First name is Adam,” it just sounds like you’re too busy to exchange two words with some peon. You’re going to be waiting a minute while I get the order anyway–it won’t kill you to be polite in the meantime.

Pick a counter at random.

You wouldn’t believe how much this happens: someone will walk in the door with an armful of clothes, go straight forward without looking to either side, and drop them on the first counter he comes to. Meanwhile, the only clerk in the shop at the moment will clear her throat from the next counter over and tell him that she can help him there. (Yes, the cell phone lady was one of these, and I also explained there why we can’t just move to whichever counter the customer chooses.)

An even sillier variant is the one where two counters are already piled with clothes that someone just took in or is in the middle of detailing, and the third is empty and has a clerk waiting patiently behind it. The customer comes in and looks at the three counters. You can see the wheels grinding as his gaze goes from full counter . . . to full counter . . . to empty counter. Finally he walks up to one of the busy clerks and starts to say,

“Hi, I’m here to pick up–”

at which point she has already seen what’s coming and says, “Actually, she’s going to help you at that counter right over there,” without stopping what she’s doing.

There was a slightly disturbing instance of this not long after I started working there. This was back when we still had three clerks in the shop most of the time, and this afternoon they were me, Maria, and Felicia, who actually works in the plant but fills in up front sometimes. At that moment we didn’t have anything to do (which may be why we stopped having three clerks in the afternoon), so all three of us were just standing around at the counters talking.

A customer walked in, well dressed, not young but not quite middle-aged either. He glanced at the three of us and then walked past the others to my counter. I sold him his order, and when he was gone, we looked at each other to check if everyone else had noticed it too: I wasn’t the first clerk he would have seen–not the one in front of the door, or closest to the door, or tallest, or otherwise distinctive. I was the least experienced and had been the slowest to say hello when he walked in. I was, however, the only caucasian.

Plan to get to the cleaners within ten minutes of closing.

Unless I’m really aching to get home that day, I don’t mind staying late with a customer. It falls under the general enjoyment of solving people’s problems, and I’ve been known to unlock the door for someone who told me frantically on the phone that he was flying out of the country the next day and needed something to wear. That’s not the situation I’m talking about. I’m talking about the people who work until five o’clock someplace that’s forty-five minutes away without traffic.  They’re racing the clock every single time they come, and if they think they’re not going to make it they call and ask if someone will still be there in a few more minutes. Yes, I know we’re the best cleaners around, but our schedule is not compatible with your schedule. You need to find one that is.

Tell us how good a customer you are.

This has come up a few times, usually for one of two reasons: the customer is requesting something which they think (not always correctly) is going to be a pain, or because there has been some problem and they’re trying to stress how important it is that we resolve it to their satisfaction. The second one irks me in particular because it implies that we don’t always try to resolve problems to everyone’s satisfaction, which is only the point of customer service. In both cases, though, the customer is making a flattering assumption that, for people who make it, is rarely correct. You are not a good customer; you are a frequent customer. The people we really do consider good customers never say this.

While I’m on the subject, let me let you in on a secret about the people who serve you in almost all retail establishments: We do not care about losing your business. Except for the minority who work on commission, we don’t actually profit from your patronage. If we can’t or won’t do what you’re demanding, the suggestion that you’ll take your business elsewhere is not a threat, it’s an offer to remove one of our problems. Even when you’re talking to the manager or business owner, don’t overestimate how much leverage you have. The time it takes to deal with you may not be worth the money you’re bringing in.

This post is part one of a two-part how-to series. Next time on 50 Ways: How (and Why) to Be a Good Customer.