The Kind Word
By Anna Torres

aaaaIt should have been simple. It shouldn't have dragged on this long. I moved out. I closed my account. I turned in the box. I paid the final bill. Why did they keep sending me notices? What was this nonsense about a second cable box? I didn't even have a second TV. Why would I have another cable box? aaaaBut the notices kept coming. I called a few times and got bounced around among low-level customer service reps who didn't know how to answer my questions (it seems they could barely access my record and I was dubious about their ability to read that when it came up on their screens), promised to investigate and call back but never did, and turned snarky when I tried to be the belligerent, demanding customer who's been mishandled. After all, aren't we led to believe we can get anything we want if we only practice a little intimidation?
	aa	aaaaAnd the notices kept coming. Threats of referring me to a collection agency if I didn't pay Right Now for a mysterious cable box I'd never possessed. Finally a manager of some sort called and left a message. I think her name was Karen or Melissa or Linda or Jennifer. I called her back a day or two later, but got the voice mail for some guy named Steve and didn't bother checking whether I'd misdialed. These cable types were obviously tenacious; I knew Karen would call me again. aaaaWhile I waited for her to call, I prepared a brief mental diatribe about my rights as a consumer, how infuriated I was to be accused of withholding a superfluous cable box when clearly I'd only ever received one, and how I would insist on having these charges dropped immediately. I thought surely venom was the key to getting my way. aaaaAnd then, in a split second, sometime between when my caller ID showed me it was Karen calling and when I said hello, a
revolutionary idea entered my head: What if, instead of being belligerent and hostile, I chose politeness and respect? I figured it was worth a try, if only in the interest of conducting a social experiment. aaaa"I'm really glad you called," I told Karen, without sarcasm. "I tried the number you left and got the voice mail of some guy named Steve. I must've copied it down wrong." aaaa"Oh." Karen was clearly taken aback by the fact that I wasn't haranguing her immediately. aaaa"I'm glad to finally talk to someone competent in your company," I continued. "I'm frankly at a loss as to what to do about the missing cable box. I only received one, which I turned in several weeks ago when I closed my account, and I'm hoping you can shed some light on the situation." aaaaThe results of my calm and gracious approach were immediate and remarkable. Instead of butting heads, Karen and I had a very civilized exchange. Karen accessed my record, knew how to read it, and discovered the source of the misunderstanding. When I explained the situation (involving old roommates and changed addresses and more cable boxes than I would ever need), ending with "I'm not sure what else to tell you. I thought those boxes had been picked up two years ago," Karen actually--hold onto your seats!--dropped the charges! That's right, she exculpated me in the company's system, clearing me of any cable box-related liability. I was both delighted and somewhat astonished at the way my little social experiment had concluded: When I treated Karen with respect, as an ally, instead of like Dr. Evil out to steal my mojo, she rose to the occasion and became that ally. Amazing. aaaaThe lesson I learned was obvious, and has been repeated time and again as I have sought to treat others with kindness and respect, instead of anger and harshness, when I need something. This has been particularly effective with those in the service industry--whom, I wager, seldom receive praise or kind words from The Public--but has also yielded dividends in professional and personal relationships. And why not? Who wouldn't respond better to a hand reaching out to lead than to being whacked from behind with a stick? I know which I'd prefer.