Mr important walks in past four customers patiently waiting and straight to the front demanding ham.
“Cut it thick please, you know, just how my wife likes it!”
(How are we supposed to know how your wife likes it, you think, but continue to play the game and ask politely whether the slice you have just cut is thick enough)
He then wants exactly 200g, no more nor less. Again, the guess work comes with a smile through gritted teeth and then to the side at the customers still stood patiently waiting.
He chats for ages about what a lovely shop this is, what a wonderful area it is in and because you can’t be rude and he is saying nice things, you must listen to his babble. Yet you are constantly wanting to serve the four customers patiently waiting, though first in line is becoming ever more frustrated.
“Do you sell Quinoa here?”
(What a stupid request? Of all the things you offer you always get one who picks the most obscure product and has the balls to ask for it)
“No, sir. I am afraid we don’t. Is that everything?”
He goes to grab his wallet from deep within his jean back pocket.
(Hallelujah, you think, we are finally at the end and I can now serve the four customers who have been patiently waiting)
“Oh, I’ll tell you what I need actually. Bare with me one moment.”
He wanders off to another part of the shop so you begin to ask the first patient customer in line if you can help them, both agreeing through wicked eye movements at what a nuisance he is being.
“Can I hel–”
(Interrupted, of course)
He’s now requesting a licorice sweet one centimeter shorter than the ones you have in stock. Inside your head you’ve left the room, yet sadly your body still remains and you have to come up with a serious answer to this barbarity. You want him to ask for a pet unicorn to keep the insanity levels high.
“Frightfully sorry, sir. This is all we have at the moment. I can order it in for you though.”
(The get out clause that saves you in any situation but allows you to conveniently forget your promise if the request is ludicrous.)
“Not to worry, I think that is all.”
(Brilliant, fantastic, the pain might well be over)
“So that will be £4.89 please.”
“Wait a minute.”
(I’m pretty used to waiting)
“Let me just find
(The change)
the change.”
(You knew it)
You wait for him to count out the correct amount in twenty pence pieces while pleading apologetically with your eyes to the eight customers patiently waiting in line and all humour him while you pretend that he is as important to society as he feels.
Meanwhile, his friend ‘I can’t wait a minute’ is hovering forcefully at the other counter, nagging for a cash withdrawal.
“Hello there, I’ll be with you in a minute. These eight people have been waiting so I must serve them first.”
“Ok, do you have any cakes?”
(Clearly not listened to a word you just said)
“I’ll get to you as soon as possible.”
(So you don’t listen either.)
“The ones with icing on, I really like them.”
(Fabulous, two of them in at once)
“Yes we do. I shall just bag this for you so it doesn’t go but I really must serve everybody else first. Thank you sir, good bye. Thank you for waiting everybody. Can I help you?”
Of course Mr important knows Miss I can’t wait a minute and they collectively become ‘the hovering gossips’. Chatting quite happily away to one another and taking up the capacity of the shop in the process.
“Hi, yes. Please can I have a cheese roll and a coffee?”
“Certainly, if you could just pass up the roll you would like.”
Miss I can’t wait a minute heckles from the other counter, interrupting her role as floater.
“Could I just withdraw thirty pounds I am in an awful rush.”
“Yes, just one minute and I will be with you.”
“Is that my roll,” comes from the mouth of first in line which makes you immediately think that he’s not in the patient group as you’d first predicted but in fact fits into one of the other categories of retail.
“Yes, sir. It’s almost complete.”
“Oh, I’d only like half a piece of tomato and just the one cucumber please. And if that knife has been anywhere near the chutney then I would be needing a new roll.”
“I’m ever so sorry, sir. Would you pass me another, I didn’t realise so I shall start again.”
“Sorry to be a pain.”
“Not at all, you’re absolutely fine.”
(Do not let inner thoughts show on facial expression)
. . .
Eventually after what feels like forever but has probably only been five minutes, the shop is empty. Apart from two customers. Finally time to catch up and regain your faith in mankind.
“Hello there. A strange request I know but do you know of any toy voyage hosts?
(What do they think you are, Google? What is toy voyaging?)
“I don’t know what that is? I’m really sorry.”
“It’s where I have a toy and would give it to a host from another country to take it on a vacation. In return I would have theirs. I’m from New Zealand you see.”
“I see.”
One customer remains. The lingerer. The one who has come for a day trip rather than to buy necessities and spends hours choosing items but buying nothing. You attempt to get on with jobs while still looking eager to help them but getting more and more frustrated at the time they take to choose a bag of crisps.
“I’ll take these.”
(Finally)
Now, the shop is empty. For a few minutes the shop remains empty. You wash up all of the dishes, prepare more salad for sandwiches and stock up some shelves. A lady walks in. Lovely looking and as if she knows what she wants. No queues to skip so she heads straight to the counter with a smile.
“Hi there, I’m off to Mongolia next month. Would you be able to recommend the best hotel?”
(You give up)
This is a very exaggerated version, don’t get me wrong, but it is also a glimpse into life in retail. I absolutely love my job and don’t feel at work half of the time with the lovely customers/ friends that I serve throughout the day. However, as with anything in life – there is always one!
Whether you are behind the counter serving or waiting in line, you will be sure to experience the down sides to retail at more than one stage in your life. Though most people you deal with are lovely, there is sure to be irritation along the way.