The patient came into our facility in a wheelchair. Incoherent. Nothing we at the center couldn't handle. A typical case, one that we'd seen hundreds of times before. 
"How much exposure has this one had?" I asked the nurse on duty. 
"Eight hours" she shot back. It was a busy day, and the intake was filling fast with new patients. 
"Standard procedure, Room 12"
  "Got it!"

A few minutes later I made my inital evaluation of the newly arrived group of patients in Room 12. There were about a dozen, all suffering from various stages of exposure. Not only had they been recently exposed to customers, they as a group were suffering the cumulative effects of long term exposure. I could readily see it in their faces, postures, demeanor, and in their responses to a few cursory questions I posed.
  Each inpatient wanted to tell me a short but dramatic story about what they had recently experienced. I call this near overwhelming urge the 'dumping' or 'venting' reflex. Unable to do this at work, where the credo is 'the customer is always right', each patient had repressed and internalized the natural human response to being subjected to insult and indignity, which is to respond in a defensive way. I allow only a bit of venting to occur, which is usually enough to bring about a degree of calmness. They have more stored up within though, and this has to be remedied. 

Our approach at the center is one of genuine caring and concern. If we tell a patient "Appreciate it!", "Thanks for the help", "Have a nice day!" or some other commonly used saying in response to an action they take you can bet we actually mean it. But, our using such a phrase in an insincere manner, through being rushed or momentarily annoyed by something unrelated to the patient, can trigger relapse and we don't ever want that. I myself strive to use variations of well wishing that they probably haven't heard 1,000 times before and to this I am always met with amazement. The common reaction I receive is "Wow! You're an actual nice person!" followed by an almost knee-jerk (and I must admit embarassing) latching onto my arm. "Don't go! Stay with me! Forever!” they plead.
This I cannot do. Instead, I bring these traumatized ones experiences that will counteract the effects of obnoxious customer behavior. These people have only been doing their jobs, or trying to do their jobs, but have met interference aplenty, sometimes ferocious.  

Instead of reinforcing their experiences of isolation, of being the uniformed one in a sea of brusque civilians immune to consequence, I have all present sit in a circle and round we go, each person in the group sharing just a few of their latest customer service interactions. Heads nod all around and previously shut down people eagerly await their turn to share. Invariably, there is danger in this becoming an all night affair so I try to limit our initial venting session to a mere eight hours. 

The next day is individually tailored, according to what I have determined by interviewing each patient and from taking notes during the venting session. To one I might prescribe hot tub immersion. To another, pampering at our in-house spa. To a third, exquisite meals, to a fourth, classical music, and so on. 
The next evening, and for many successive nights, comes what I call 'reorientation'. Here each customer service person is reprogrammed by seasoned staff members, including myself, as to what 'reality' is in the customer service field, for they have been exposed to unrealistic expectations to the extent that some of them have been expected to alter time, magically solve complicated issues, instantly manifest personnel, and perform other such miracles for their charges.
Group sessions then follow, where customer service interactions are role modeled first by staff and then patients to further seat the cure. Here are introduced such topics as "How to get your customer to be okay with waiting", "Allowable responses to vitriol", How to handle petulance and condescending attitude", “What constitutes customer ‘entitlement’?”, “Seven methods of getting even", and others. The level of joy the patients experience in these playshops signals to the staff that healthy self worth has returned and that they are ready for release. Our facility will always be available for drop ins, should each recoverer at any time feel the need, and the gratitude that each one expresses tells us that finally they have come across some people that have their backs for each has experienced the phenomenon of managers disappearing at critical times and company officials and stockholders higher up the food chain using them only as a firewall behind which they can garner profits. 

It is a blessing to see healthy customer service reps leave our facility but it is sad that there are ones we can't help. Certain patients we wheel in have what I have come to describe as 'The Thousand Yard Stare'. Severely traumatized, they have retreated to an inner world, one we are unable to reach. 
These cases are referred over to Long Term Care, where specialists in Burnout Recovery apply soft but steady rehabilitative methods to bring these patients back to the here and now. It is rare that any of these ever return to Customer Service- but they make good gardeners. 

My plans for the future? Expansion. There are millions of afflicted in this country alone. The market for our services is vast. And not only that, I see no move by companies to treat employees as anything more than machines manning profit centers, which will continue to bring us a steady supply of new patients.

Think of us as a sort of Workmans Comp for the psychologically perturbed.