{"id":864,"date":"2018-06-25T09:56:36","date_gmt":"2018-06-25T13:56:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/maniactive.com\/blog\/?p=864"},"modified":"2018-06-24T09:47:08","modified_gmt":"2018-06-24T13:47:08","slug":"when-businesses-thank-you-for-your-patience-theyre-treating-you-like-a-dog-one-of-pavlovs-dogs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/maniactive.com\/blog\/when-businesses-thank-you-for-your-patience-theyre-treating-you-like-a-dog-one-of-pavlovs-dogs\/864","title":{"rendered":"When businesses thank you for your patience, they’re treating you like a dog — one of Pavlov’s dogs."},"content":{"rendered":"

I often act patient, even when I don’t feel it. I’ll bet you have, too.<\/p>\n

We’ve been conditioned.<\/p>\n

Let’s say you been on hold with customer service for what seems like forever. One of the first things the phone rep might say is “thank you for your patience.”<\/p>\n

They’ve been trained to say it. But you?<\/p>\n

You’re not feeling patient. You’re feeling the exact opposite of patient.<\/p>\n

“Thank you for your sarcasm,” you want to reply. But don’t.<\/p>\n

Because that’s not how we’ve been trained to play the ‘thank you for your patience’ game. The rules of this social situation say “You can’t be authentic. You must pretend to be patient.”<\/p>\n

So you sigh, choke down your fury, and move the conversation forward. You’re also aware the ‘thank you for your patience’ game took another 3 seconds of your time. This further erodes your already frayed pretend-patience.<\/p>\n

The patience game is oh-so tedious. You’d rather not play it, but what can you do?<\/p>\n

\"Always<\/a><\/p>\n

The other day, I saw a sign attached to a velvet rope. A business was training customers to snake through a queue to get to three harried customer service reps. The sad little sign read — you guessed it:<\/p>\n

“Thank you for your patience.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

But few people looked patient. Most looked annoyed and\/or weary.<\/p>\n

Some looked resigned to their fate. These more placid people had whipped out their phones and were amusing themselves while they waited.<\/p>\n

But you? You have some degree of emotional intelligence. You know ‘resigned to your fate’ is a far different feeling than ‘patience’.<\/p>\n

The sad little velvet rope sign could have more truthfully read,<\/p>\n

“You might be waiting in line a long time. Management would appreciate it if you could resign yourself to this fate.”<\/p>\n

\"Why<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Businesses who ‘thank you for your patience’ plan to inconvenience you.<\/strong><\/em> They know in advance they have a problem. They could have invested in resources. They could innovate. They could choose to handle your issue promptly — but they didn’t.<\/p>\n

They decided it’s cheaper to make a sign. Or it’s easier to tell a frazzled front-line employee to utter some clich\u00e9d words in an attempt to soothe you into compliance.<\/p>\n

“Thank you for your patience” relies on behavioral conditioning. It’s a blatant attempt to cow customers into acting in a way that’s not authentic.<\/p>\n

It’s Pavlovian. You hear “thank you for your patience” – and you might actually simmer down for a few seconds. You know it’s not the front-line rep’s fault. You want to snap — but you probably won’t.<\/p>\n

Not yet. But all that’s changing.<\/p>\n

You might not have to play the ‘thank you for your patience’ game too much longer. Some new signs are cropping up. Your natural, authentic impatience is being recognized and rewarded.<\/p>\n