For the first time in my life, I walked out of Dunkin' Donuts empty-handed last week.
My original plan was to use some loose change found in the car to treat myself to a blueberry muffin. It was sunny outside, no lines inside, a good day in the making.
As I approached the counter, I greeted the employee at the register with a "Hi" and a smile.
She returned my greeting with a stare. She just looked at me. I waited a minute. She said nothing. And then something inside me snapped. I couldn't bring myself to order the muffin, as delicious as it looked. I needed a "Hello" or a smile, just a hint of movement of the lips, before I could hand this woman my money.
Nothing.
"I think I'm all set," I said, and walked out the door.
My face felt red. I was furious. But it was exhilarating in a way, too. Not exactly the Boston Tea Party, but there's a thrill that comes from taking a stand.
Now maybe I'm being too harsh. Maybe she got some bad news that day. Maybe there's a sick baby at home. Who knows what someone's personal story is? But I wasn't looking for sparkling conversation, just some acknowledgment of my existence.
After my Dunkin' Donuts mini-protest, I had an awakening of sorts and started paying more attention to customer service everywhere. Fellow customers of the North Shore, I say we stage a revolt.
Why do we time and again accept rudeness from people who are taking our money?
At McDonald's, we wait in line to order a chicken snack wrap for my daughter. The cashier summons me forward with a half-nod. I think that means it's my turn.
There is no, "May I take your order?" No words at all.
At the supermarket, the cashier complains to the bagger about her job, her boring night before, the length of her break.
We all have stories like this.
For years, Bette Cullinan trained Verizon employees in customer service, and today she volunteers her time teaching similar skills to Topsfield town workers. I sought her counsel this week.
Yes, yes, she understands my frustration. She's been known to say "You're welcome" as a tweak to the clerk who doesn't say thank you. If she's really upset, she'll ask to speak to the manager. She thinks there's an overall decline in service everywhere.
As a teenager, she worked at Eaton Drug in downtown Salem for a professional soda jerk, when there was such a thing, if you can believe it, she says.
"If there was a customer in there, there was no fooling around," she says. "If there wasn't a customer, we were scrubbing counters."
She thinks a good first boss can make a lasting impression on a kid.
Cullinan reminds me that we have power. We have choices. We don't have to shop at places where people are rude. Find the spots where the service is excellent and keep going back. Tell your friends.
At the popcorn stand at the Liberty Tree Mall movie theater, Cullinan always seeks out one woman, even if her line is the longest. She knows she will be the friendliest and move customers through the fastest.
"There are stars out there," she says.
She's right. Here's one: Brian Devoe works at the Brigham's at Northshore Mall in Peabody. He actually jogs from the cash register over to the ice cream freezer and back to the counter to minimize the wait. He makes me smile every time I stop for a peppermint stick with chocolate jimmies in a cone with a dish. And he always gets the order right.
When complimented about his service, the 27-year-old from Lynn says his early bosses taught him right.
Yes, we have choices.
Last week, still hungry, mad and muffinless, I stopped on the way to work at a nearby convenience store and settled on a sleeve of white-powdered Hostess doughnuts. The clerk said hello.
You have me with hello.
¢¢¢
Staff writer Susan Flynn can be reached at sflynn@salemnews.com or at 978-338-2658.







