Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Customer Service
At the ticket counter in Chicago, Old men in polo shirts mutter as their leather-tan wives fiddle with gold jewelry and drink coffee.
They ask eachother loudly, in words that connect them in ways that they lack the capacity to describe, "what ever happened to customer service?", as if capitalism had ever had a fundamental relationship with this concept.
At the ticket counter in Chicago, Old men in polo shirts mutter as their leather-tan wives fiddle with gold jewelry and drink coffee.
They ask eachother loudly, in words that connect them in ways that they lack the capacity to describe, "what ever happened to customer service?", as if capitalism had ever had a fundamental relationship with this concept.
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