Lawrence of Arabia: Customer Service

Something quite strange happened yesterday.

I was in Gulf City Mall yesterday evening, looking for something edible when I decided to try Lawrence of Arabia's Gyros. I ordered one, and the woman behind the counter wanted to know if I wanted ketchup and pepper sauce on my gyro. I told her I wanted a real gyro, not one that was a Trinbagonian remix.  Trinbagonians normally smother food in the diabetes-inducing condiments - and while I love my pepper sauce, it has no place on a gyro where the subtlety of taste is so rich.

A man of apparent Middle Eastern descent behind the counter, apparently in charge, smiled and asked me if I wanted humus on it.

Of course I want humus on it! We laugh and talk about how Trinbagonians like to slide things down their gullets with an acre's worth of tomatoes and sugar, I get a generous helping of humus and we start debating the fine points of Arabic cuisine. Some women hear the conversation and decide to try the gyros the proper way, we smile and explain things to them. We're at ease, we're having fun and he's getting sales for things that just aren't very familiar in T&T culture.

I got my prize gyro and sat to eat. It didn't last very long. It tasted like more. So I went up to order another gyro and had to hang back as the crowd of women was still there, getting their food and enjoying some animated discussion with themselves and the people on the other side of the counter. It was the only busy spot in the food court, and I expect that was partly because of the friendly atmosphere. It was... UnTrinbagonianish¹. It was easy-going, tranquil and had what others might say was 'a really good vibe'. I ordered another gyro or two or more (hah!).

The woman ahead of me spoke with her friend quietly and then was recognized as a former classmate of one of the women behind the counter. Upon seeing the size of her gyro, she made her complaint known - 'Why is mine so small and I pay the same price?'. It's the Trinbagonian passive-aggressive voice; one never complains directly to the person who can do something but instead projects it to the group.

I thought, 'It was too good to last.'

And without skipping a beat, the man behind the counter tossed a chicken kebab into a styrofoam container and slid it to her. "I'm sorry, the bread is smaller because of where we get it. But you're right, it isn't fair. Please take this kebab."

I arched an eyebrow, glancing over to the woman. She was frozen. Shock. She didn't know how to react. A precarious moment for her; she seemed to have never experienced this before. I gently said, "That's customer service" - both as an explanation to her and a compliment to the apparent manager of Lawrence of Arabia. He ignored me, instead gently smiling at the customer who was a moment ago less than happy. She glanced at me, and the confusion was ripe in her eyes.

"You better take it or I will", I smiled. Her friend, also shocked but recovering more quickly, told her friend to go dress it up. And seemingly in a trance, she did.

This stood out to me because I saw things as I thought that they should be. But more important than my own reaction was this woman's reaction; faced with true customer service and a good vibe, she went into shock. That, by itself, speaks volumes.

I think people could afford this sort of shock a bit more often. Hat tip to Lawrence of Arabia in Gulf City Mall.

¹It's UnTribagonianish these days, but it used to be the way things normally were in and prior to the 1980s.