Wednesday, 5 May 2010

I could just be the Brit bitch from hell and call for the manager.

I feel we are well ahead of ourselves in the garden and veg production. I put the first of the sweetcorn seedlings out in a very orderly block and noticed that the extra broad beans I sewed directly were smiling at the sky, so all is well. The lack of rain has meant that between being builders mate and household char I have had to go and irrigate manually and by that I mean filling up watering cans and walking the length and breadth of the allotment repeating... this is better than the gym, this will prevent osteoporosis..... but the job gets done and at least I have walked the length and breadth of the veggie plot and have, by habit, picked a weed or two or at least made a mental note to go back with the hoe.
We needed to buy more sand for the door project in the lounge, I really hoped that half a ton would do the job but as we are only three quarters of the way up the frame and I would also like a step down into the yard we needed to trailer up, and go to point P. Our last visit to Point P did not rate a 100% customer services tick and as we walked out I vowed never to go there again but in order to keep this job consistent we needed the same grade of sand and were obliged to return. The sales assistant who seems to always be on duty has one of three problems, he does not like dealing with non trade customers because they don't wee up the wall on site and don't drink pastis at eight in the morning, or, he does not like dealing with the English playing at DIY because we should leave the houses available for the French, or finally, he does not like women coming into his store asking technical questions, because to date he has never given me a straight answer or good advice. I am putting money on the third option here. We went in to buy a sheet of shuttering ply last week and it wasn't until we were in front of our favorite sales assistant that we had no idea what it might be called in French so I started to explain, two syllables, second syllable , sounds like, but he cut me short and told us to go into the yard and find what we wanted and don't come back until we know what it is called. Long story shortened we found a friendly warehouse man who loaded the shuttering and cement and then came into the shop to explain our purchase. When the sales assistant saw us walk in he disappeared into the ware house and left us standing by the till. If he had been dealing with another client, that's faire play, but he kept us waiting five minutes during which time the warehouse man had gone twice to gee him up. We were getting just a little agitated with the wait when he came through from the warehouse pulling a loaded pallet of stock for the shop, nothing urgent, no other customer to be dealing with, he just sauntered in parked his load without an apology or explanation. The warehouseman then provided the detail of our purchase and left us fuming by the till yearning to be respected as valued customers. The invoice was thrown across the counter without a bye of leave or a thank you or a good bye. It did however occur to me that by this time he had clocked the body language and just perhaps, was able to translate English disgruntled noises. Today however I made a bee line to another assistant and even had a joke and a laugh but I swear I will walk out if he is the only available assistant next time or better still, I could just be the Brit bitch from hell and call for the manager.

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