I just read somewhere that we have become a nation of service industries, not manufacturing. It got me to thinking. (Now this is where my age is really going to show.)
Remember when on an elevator there was a person who sat on a stool and would ask what floor and then push the button? On the way to your floor you could even have a conversation about your final destination and he/she would send you out the elevator, pointing the way. Today you cram in like cattle and hope that when you call out your floor someone will reach over and push the button needed. If not, then you have to push through and do it yourself.
Filling up with gas has sure changed from when I only paid 29 cents a gallon. While filling up with gas, you would get your windows washed, your oil checked and even at times the air in your tires checked. Today getting gas can be a challenge, especially with arthritic hands. Have you ever been dressed up for a fancy evening only to discover that you are low on gas, so you stop on the way to the event to fill up and accidentally get gas on your hands. Now instead of smelling like the $75.00 perfume you are wearing, you smell like Rosie the Riveter just after work!
And the department stores—even the high-end ones—are nothing more than abandoned warehouses. Ever go in one and need help finding something? You spend 20 minutes walking up and down the isles searching for anyone who may look like they work there. You call out, “Hello, can anyone help me?” And people turn and shake their heads in acknowledgement that it is awful there are not more people to help. It seems like the only people that are there are the ones who stand behind a counter to take your money, and even finding a staffed counter can be a challenge. It makes me wonder sometime how people get arrested for shoplifting. I mean, who is there to catch them?
This reminds me of Pat’s Grandmother, Muddy. She was a very proper Irish women who always lived life with great protocol and dignity. Tables always had linen on them, along with her crystal salt and pepper shakers, cloth napkins, and proper glasses. Before I came into the family, she would call down to Heckler’s grocery store in Harleysville and place her food order. It would be delivered by the afternoon of her call. After her husband died, she moved in with her daughter and her daughter would shop for the family. She went over 75 years never having shopped in a modern day grocery store. Eventually she moved into a senior retirement apartment. I’ll never forget how appalled she was the first time I took her to the grocery store. She stood in the isle and kept muttering, “Why I never….” Once we got to the checkout she looked at me and asked,
“What are we doing now?”
“We have to pay”, I said.
“Blessed by the name of Jesus,” she said crossing her chest, “I feel like they are treating us like cattle in a chute.”
She was so appalled by this event, that she never stepped into a modern day grocery store again, all the while sharing with anyone who would listen, how awful people are being treated in the grocery stores these days.
It seems to me, that in days long gone, when one went about ones daily living, there was always a helping hand or two to get you where you wanted to be. Today, I find I can wander aimlessly from place to place and never hear the words, “Can I help you?”
Oh, where has all the real “service” gone?
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