Today I had to write a ‘mea culpa’ email to a customer who chewed me out because I didn’t ask her why she wanted to cancel her gift order and just accepted the cancellation without comment.

(In this case, I knew the reason was going to be a sensitive one, similar to returning a crib still in the box to the baby store. After 10 years of etailing, I learned when and when not to ask - “Is there a reason for your cancellation today?”)

My experience meant bupkis (Yiddish for ‘nothing’) because this customer needed me to ask the question so she could unload her sorrow on me. (”Lady, I’m just a retailer. I sell stuff! And now I really gotta get back to my generic subscription renewal series because I’m on deadline.”)

If customer service in this country sucks, it sucks, in small part, because we’re training consumers to anticipate bad customer service, deep suspicious grilling when trying to return or cancel an order, or worse, ‘magical’ customer service.

Why magical? Because in my mea culpa letter to the customer who felt ill-served, I actually apologized FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO READ HER MIND. I didn’t write that, of course, but that, indeed was the subtext.

When I worked in my first copywriting job, I was given the task of writing what we called the ‘Ooops” letters for customer service. I wrote mostly generic letters but occasionally had to craft them custom. I was given this task because I wrote them in a sincere and soothing manner.

My bosses loved them because I turned customer frowns upside down just like Mary Tyler Moore. I had one boss who wanted me to write his own note for him on his own father’s Father’s Day card because he didn’t like his father but didn’t want him to know.

But the nice thing about the B2B book business was that I never found myself apologizing for not having been born with supernatural powers.

Of course, I still write them with the same sincere, soothing tone. I showed my husband the original email and my reply. “Welcome to a little glimpse of my world, baby.” He said he admired my restraint. He couldn’t have done it.

But I can because, to paraphase Jon Lovitz in his over-the-top performance of the deliciously haughty, hack thespian, “I am a copywriter!”

Ok, copywriter colleagues, what’s your favorite “written through clenched teeth” piece? The floor is open. Mojitos all around.

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