Cloak Rooms - A Hidden Evil

To me a cloak room represents everything that is bad about society today. A place where you are often forced to store items - which you may desperately need - at a cost.
Take for example the cloak room at Acer Arena. First off, it is not explained clearly that bags must be cloaked before attending an event, then when you arrive you must queue for upwards of fifteen minutes with many other disgruntled, sweaty customers. The claim ticket then states that venue staff have no liability for lost or damaged goods. How is this fair? We haven't asked if we can store our belongings; you've forced us to, so take some responsibility. Pregnant women are even told to queue and store their bags - where's the common sense? What if I was to state, "I take no responsibility for lost or stolen claim tickets"? You wouldn't buy it.
At least this venue doesn't charge to store belongings, and chances are you'll get back what you left in one piece. But over at the Enmore Theatre, they pull the same trick but charge you for it, three dollars no less. With this slightly less professional storage system you feel less confident entrusting your possessions with staff. And again, no responsibility will be taken for lost, stolen, mutilated, eaten, regurgitated, sat on, express posted, entombed, boiled, cured or possessed possessions.
My question is, what's going on back there that you can't guarantee the safe return of my property?

Self Serves No Purpose

Not many of us remember it but there was a time when a grocery store was a place of utter service. Everything was done for you; it was almost regal. Bread and Milk? Just ask the attendant to fetch it from behind the counter. He might even use a ladder to get it or would have to measure out the amount you wanted.
Then just before the WWI, this evolved into the self service store and America and the world never looked back. We now even have the hypermarket - a combination of supermarket and department store - which may in time see off its creators.
Now this, I have no problem with. Yes it is sad that the corner store is largely a thing of the past but we now have choice and convenience as never before.
What I do have a problem with is serving myself. Anywhere. If I wanted to serve myself I'd shoplift.
Some supermarkets and department stores now insist on inserting self-serve checkout lanes about their premises. I feel like we've taken a humongous step backwards here. Actually no, more like a fall sideways where you grazed your knee but thought, "I was standing perfectly still, how did that happen?".
Is this only the beginning? Will we soon have fully automated, self-stocking stores where the site of a red-haired midget named Gerald employed reluctantly under equal opportunity by the 19-year old manager Mischa is a thing of the past? No more asking where toilet paper is only for the unshaven Steve to shrug and continue listening to Slipknot whilst stacking Weet-Bix? An end to having a the hirsute George wipe his forehead ungloved before handling your six slices of devon?
Well there's good news here. As long as there's credit cards, faulty technology and idiots, there'll be staff to happily serve you. There may only be one, and he may take twelve minutes, but there's staff nonetheless. And it's fair enough too - he was checking everyone's signatures and helping them insert their hard-earned into the ridiculously-difficult-to-use coin machine. Hey come on, don't rush him! He's currently escorting the local special lad Petey out after he shoved croutons down his pants for the third time this week.
Hmmm, not so self serve after all.
The saddest part of this is that tomorrow's youth will stare blankly at the screen when you show them this sketch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cz2-ukrd2VQ
What a world we live in.

On Hold

They call it progress but technology is for the most part a pile of crap. And most of today's customer service can also be put in the 'crap' pile. I could leave it there and everyone will know what I'm talking about but for the purposes of padding this out a little and airing my grievances, I'll elaborate.

Today I had some technical difficulties with my internet connection and called the service provider to assist me. I was greeted by several different recorded voices asking me to say my phone number into the phone. After five attempts it accepted. Then I was kindly informed by another voice (this time a charming American accent) that my call would be answered in around twenty minutes. So nothing to do but sit back, relax and enjoy the musical stylings of ... Oh that's right. you don't play real music. Instead it's a mix between Kenny G and SARS. To mix it up a little you'll play what can only be described as the deformed twin of Muzak. (How did they ever go bankrupt with every hotline on the planet playing it incessantly?)

To their credit I was relieved of the pain in my ears after only seventeen minutes. A guy answered who I'll call Jim-Bob because I can't remember his real name. Jim-Bob was definitely friendly but so friendly that it bordered on creepy. He started by taking my name before commenting that it's a very nice name and very short and fitting. I then told him my problem and asked if he could help. He assured me he could because this is what he enjoys and that he will help me with anything I need because we're buddies.

I double-checked the 1300 number I had dialled to make sure it wasn't a man-man chatline. It wasn't which made it more disturbing.

In amongst the weird chitchat Jim-Bob was quite helpful but sometimes I wish people would quit with the formalities and get to the point. He kept telling me how he could do something and would do something and how happy he was to do it. As Elvis wisely sang, "A little less conversation, a little more action please". 

My question is, who trains these people to be so chummy? Or was he just a happy man? My guess is the latter because I called another internet helpline a short time later and the lady who answered was quite blunt. Come to think of it she was fairly rude and sounded bored; maybe it was her last day on the job.

If only more people had her attitude.