Customer Service

It was a four-hour class.  Half of my busy day.  And it was required.  It was titled something like, "Know Your Customer".  All county employees had to attend and we were encouraged (read: it was highly recommended by the boss) that we happily participate.  I sat in our training room with many other dedicated public servants.  Marion County is actually very impressive that way.  They gladly came from all departments.  Public Works, the Health Department, the Housing Authority, Property Assessors.  All eager to be there.  All willing to engage our facilitator and learn how to offer better customer service.  I listened to the message of the day.  I took in the suggestions, observed the audience participation and wrote down ideas as instructed.  And that's when it hit me.

For most employees in that classroom, the folks they deal with want to be a customer.  They want to get a dog license, obtain a permit, fill that pesky pothole, file their marriage certificate.  But for us, Deputy District Attorneys, that is most often never the case.  When we are thrust into the lives of our "customers", it's because something terrible has happened.  And nobody wants that.  We aren't there because anybody planned for us, we are there when crime interrupts the real plans they had.  We are interlopers in their lives, lives that are often never the same afterwards.

Deputy District Attorneys do hard jobs.  I know.  I've been there.  And for 20 years, I've gotten to know my customers, really know them.  Often despite the fact that they never really wanted to know me.  I've cried with them as they have told me about their daughter whose bright future was stolen by the reckless act of a drunk driver.  I've sat with them as they've yelled at me because there is nobody else to yell at and because the criminal justice system seems like little consolation in the face of grave violence.  I've stood up for them in court when they feel like they can't stand for themselves.  I've stood beside them when the man who hurt them stares them down across the courtroom.  I've read their statements at sentencings when their own voices are too weak with grief.  I've given them bad news.  And then sometimes worse news.  And I've been embraced by them when the murderer who gunned down their son is finally held accountable after ten long years.  I've felt their relief, their liberation from hopelessness, and even their gratitude in those moments.   And I've left them as they walk away from the courthouse.  Different people than when we met.  Different people than they were before they were my customer.  And then I've moved onto the next case.  My next customer.  The next set of lives who find me there against their will.

I've done these things more times than I can count.  I've met customers that have left an indelible mark on my life.  Customers who, in spite of every reason to be broken, find strength instead.  I'm inspired by them.   I'm grateful they've let me into their lives.  And I'm grateful for a job...a career...that has put me there.

And I'm just one.  There are dozens of us prosecutors in Marion County who do this everyday.  I need only walk down the hall of our office at Courthouse Square to know they are doing this very hard work.  I recognize the responsibility they wear on their faces, the weight of these survivors on their shoulders.  I know that look.  I've seen it in the mirror.  And I'm so proud to work with people who have dedicated their careers...their lives...to these hard jobs.

And that's why I'm running for Marion County District Attorney.  Now.  Today.  I'm running because it is important to keep doing this hard work.  I'm running because I'm the best person to lead this amazing office of public servants forward.  I'm running because it's essential for me to continue the legacy of true customer service that I've been taught by those that have come before me and especially by those survivors I've had the pleasure to serve.

www.paigeclarksonformarioncountyda.com