Entertainment For Lively Minds
Customer nicer than staff: Official
Spending a gratuitous day off in London, so inevitably find myself browsing in HMV.
I was very touched to see a slightly crestfallen man standing in front of the 'Dark Side of the Moon' enormo-boxset, actually stroking it gently. It was the caress of a would-be lover. Had his other half been with him, (s)he'd have said, 'You never touch me like that, you cad.'
I was less touched when I took my rather more meagre purchase to the counter, and the till bloke started bloody drumming on it to the in-store music while he was waiting for the transaction to go through. I wouldn't have minded too much, except that this wasn't an idle tap. It was like John Bonham had wandered in for some random sales experience. The rotter. My CDs turned out to be fine, since you ask, despite their ordeal.
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I have a theory, based largely on seeing
too many people behaving too appallingly badly towards stewardesses and young shop staff, that there is a direct correlation between rude behaviour and an (often shouted out loud) expectation to be fawned over.
The customer is always right, except when he is stupid, ignorant and/or rude in which case he needs to remember that being a customer does not rid him of his obligation to have some respect towards fellow people.
Absolutely
Rest assured I was not rude to Drumming Till Bloke - I actually offered the man one of my chirpier 'Hello's! And my subject line was light-hearted in intent.
The customer is not always right
The customer is always important. But not always right. Some of them shoplift and lie.
The shoplifters aren't customers.
They have abrogated any rights they might have had as such the moment their thieving mitts grab whatever it is and they turn for the door.
You can console yourself with the thought
that HMV is going norks-up, so this guy will be on the Nat King Cole before long.
Op Ed
Over the years I've had some very good service at the HMV on London, Oxford street and at other provincial stores. This includes some great conversations with staff whose passion for music had not been extinguished by the need to pile up CDs and flog them like they were tins of beans.
Any lurkers from the upper echelons of the company should take note - Hold onto these people and look after them. They're the only reason I still frequent your store.
Yes indeed - good point
You mention Oxford Street and I've definitely had the same sort of thing there. Mainly downstairs in the 'speciality' sections - I've always found the staff in the classical, jazz, world depts etc incredibly helpful and knowledgeable.
In a more local branch, I sometimes get the sort of 'reverse' experience with one of the blokes working there (er, they know me by now). I'll take something to the till and he'll go, 'Oh right! What's this like, then?!'
My only experience at the the selling side of the counter
was at what was the big HMV in Oxford Street for two summers in the 70s. I was in Classical, one D Hepworth was upstairs. It was great fun, and every staff member had some specialist knowledge (even me, at only 18) and we'd direct customers to the right person, if they were around. We had some awkward customers, some of whom were regular, and we'd all flee if we saw them coming - but I don't remember any customers actually being unpleasant.
When shopping now, I always make a point of being pleasant to staff, as I reckon they see enough unpleasantness in a day.
There was one small shop where I was a regular in the 90s: they quickly got to know my tastes, and when some strange or avant-garde CD was released, they'd get in one copy in the hope that I would buy it, and I usually did. They also enlisted my help if I was there when another customer asked something they didn't know.
One day I went in when they were playing a Haydn Piano Trio. 'What's this racket?, I asked them, jokingly.
'That's music, dear, that's why you don't recognise it' came the reply.
One of the best put-downs I've ever heard, even if I was on the receiving end. I wasn't at all offended.
There's more of an 'Upstairs, Downstairs' feel......
.....to the Oxford Street HMV than there is to 'Downton Abbey'.
It's just that the quality experience is to be found downstairs at HMV.
This has much to do with the music, but less to do with the staff than the customers (and over-crowding) up above.
Downstairs in the Oxford St HMV
is a very dangerous place to visit. I don't think I've ever spent a lunch hour in there without leaving with something that the staff have been playing while I browsed. It's a bit like a silent version of this blog, without any banter; you just hang around a while and your musical horizons stretch while your wallet thins.
Indeed,
there's a chap downstairs in the New Oxford Street branch, looks like he stepped off The Young Ones set and he's always been perfectly charming, courteous and interested in my purchases.
Everyone nicer than Starbucks customer
Ocean Terminal shopping mall, Leith, Edinburgh, today. I have a birthday card to write, i go get a coffee at Starbucks so I can sit down and scribble "Happy Birthday dear niece" on a flat surface. It's a bit crowded inside Starbucks, so i go to the Starbucks tables in the mall concourse where it's less crowded. Young woman with baby sitting at table for four. I smile politely, say hi and ask if she minds if i sit down at one of the three spare places. She umms and ahhs for a few seconds, then says frostily, "Id prefer to sit here by myself."
This came as a surprise, so I didn't have a pithy comeback. I just moved along to the next table where an Antipodean male, long gone in a Skype conversation, waved me into one of the three spare seats next to him, saying as an aside, "No worries mate, as long as you don't mind me chatting away here, I'm trying to sell a car on the other side of the world!" His car sales efforts and my birthday card writing manage to coexist without problem. I finish my coffee and head for a postbox.
I wonder if i've been drooling inadvertently, or maybe i left the flat wearing nothing but wellies and a hat... but no. Today I interacted with several shop staff, Starbucks staff, the car-sales Antipodean bloke, a friend of mine and his 3 year old daughter. None said, "You look weird." I conclude that young-mum-with-baby was either paranoid, weird or just plain snotty and selfish. Gaaaah.
/getsthingsoffchest
see post below
I'm too excited about my sub-woofer. sorry
You're right to be narked, of course
But I suppose you did give the young woman permission to think about it and she made a choice. Many would simply plonk themselves down.
She could have responded more nicely, though.
Thankfully that phase of my life is over. One thing I have learned is to treat parents of young kids very gently and give them a wide berth. They are not right in the head. It's a great time, but it can really mess with you, mentally.
Options 2 and 3 man
and as an aside, if you'd be willing to jump a train from 'that' Edinboro this time next week, I'll definitely find you a seat in the 'Method Bar' called Laurieston.
c'mon Man "Get Up"
see what I did there
James
Very kind offer and thank you, but a beer or three might have to wait until 10 December or thereafter as I'm in the middle of a cholesterol-busting health kick where i'm doing without alcohol/dairy/wheat (hence no pizza, creamy/oily pasta sauces) for 100 days .. this kicked off on 1 Sep and stops on 9 Dec (inclusive) ... oddly i've got a day's work in that Glasgow on Monday coming so will be round the city centre/Queen St Station after 5.30pm, waiting for the train home (if you fancy a fizzy mineral water?) ... if not, pre-Christmas pint might be a better idea :-)
PM
en route
Some years ago....
in my shop in Aberdeen, a quiet midweek afternooon, I was behind till, Marlene was on her tbreak.
Customer: "You sell Coal?"
Me: "Sorry mate, don't sell coal".
C: "You sure?"
M: "Yep".
C:"Can you check just in case?"
M:"No point mate, don't sell coal".
C: "Maybe you got some thru' the back?"
M: "No coal thru' back, trust me, this I know".
C: "Can you check just in case?"
M:" My friend, I have owned this shop for 6 years, we ain't got no coal"
So C wandered into the body of the shop, looking for coal I should think.
I served the next customer and I saw C talking to Marlene who was returning from her break. Marlene, who was a nervous sparrow of a woman, shouted to me: "Geach, we don't have any coal do we?"
Now I am getting a tad exasparated.
M: "Listen pal, you ask everyone in the Northern Hemisphere if we sell coal... we don't. Please".
As the customer sighed deeply and headed towards the exit, a young student who had overheard all the convos shouted to me: "Hey Bossman, how much are these bags of coal you got up here?"
It is all in the timing folks.
Cue C who did a pirouette and headed towards me...
I don't sell coal!
I still don't sell coal.