Customer Service revisited, a BBQ.. and a hasty retreat..

I must briefly return to the matter of customer service as it’s a topic so rich in material I could probably revisit it on a weekly basis.

The other day I went into a well known shoe shop with 7 year old boy to buy him a pair of school shoes. On finding the desired shoe, I held it up to the eager shop assistant who asked me what size his foot was.

-‘Actually, could you measure him please, I’m not sure what size he is’

-‘what age is he ma’am?’ he asked

-‘well, he’s almost 7 ….. but what has that got to do with it?’ The man was already studying a chart pulled from behind the desk.

-‘Can you just measure him please’ I urged him.

-‘Ma’am, this is his size’ he told me, pointing to a number on the chart.

-‘Err, how can you tell from that?’ I shot back ‘He might be big or small for his age…please measure him’.

Ignoring me, he disappeared into the back and emerged a minute later with a shoe. Simultaneously irritated and resigned, I hoped desperately that he wasn’t right about the size. He handed it to 7 year old.

It didn’t fit. Thank god.

Vindicated, I asked for a bigger size, this was obviously going to be a case of trial and error….

We eventually emerged from the shop with the new shoes (which of course had to be worn immediately… remember being 7?) but the experience summed up customer service here; over the top, invasive attention up until the point that you actually require some assistance, at which point all pretence of service dissolves and you’re left fending for yourself.

Although on a rare occasion you get more help than you require.

A friend of a friend recently went through a pregnancy scare with his girlfriend. Panic-stricken, he went into a pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. Distracted by the white knuckle fear which accompanies such an experience, it wasn’t until some time later that he recalled the hilarious advice given to him by the assistant behind the counter as he handed over the test.

-‘Sir, this test is only for women’

You couldn’t make this stuff up!

With four young children, I’m a big fan of the ‘drop in creche’ (as if you didn’t know that at this point). My first priority with each mall I enter, is to identify the location of the crèche where I off-load the children in order to buy some time for myself, or simply to avail myself of a walk around the supermarket which doesn’t involve one step forward, 3 steps back as I constantly gather and herd them in the right direction.

Recently, I left almost 3 year old and 5 year old boy into a local crèche. An hour later, I returned to discover almost 3 year old sitting on the ticket counter and 5 year old climbing over the various car rides around the gaming arcade. Approaching the crèche keeper, I asked ‘why did you let them out?’ to be told ‘oh ma’am, they wanted to go out’. Trying to explain that allowing a 2 and 5 year old to make that decision wasn't acceptable, fell on deaf ears as the crèche attendant chuckled away. (Just on that, from an anthropological perspective, what is it in the Philipino culture that makes them giggle at the most inappropriate moments?...surely worthy of a study)

The key is to pre-empt every situation in order to avoid outrage and disappointment. Now, when I check the kids into a crèche, I am obliged to add 'don't let them out'.

So eldest son turned 7 on Thursday. We decided to have a party on Friday, inviting along some neighbours and their kids; in other words a booze-up diguised as a childrens party.

I had invited several people around for a BBQ, which was optimistic since I don’t actually own a BBQ set.

I spent all day tidying up, a mammoth task, (while DH begrudgingly erected Ikea furniture). Considering I had told my guests that the BBQ would kick off at 5ish, it should come as no surprise that DH wasn’t despatched to the shops for food, booze and the infamous BBQ set until 4.30pm.

When the first guests arrived I was obliged to explain that not only did I not have a BBQ set yet, but no food or drink either since everything needed was on DH’s list. My guests, new aquaintances, politely sat and waited as I frantically scanned the drive for DH's car.

Luckily, he wasn’t far behind them, hastily shoving beers into the freezer before unpacking the shopping. Proudly producing the boxed BBQ set, he took it outside to set it up. Venturing outside some 30 minutes later to inspect the new purchase, I nearly collapsed with laughter as I took in what can only be described as the smallest BBQ EVER. It barely came up to DH's knees. He spent the whole night crouched over it, flipping steaks, while simultaneously trying to look 'cool' in front of our new neighbours. Well, serves him right for buying the cheapest one in the shop.

                      Probably the Smallest BBQ set in the World

Finally, an update on the toilet training. Almost three year old now totally refuses to wear a nappy, removing it the instant I put it on him. Obviously this still results in the daily pooh on the floor, but worse, he’s started to do it in public (he's imaginative, he managed to do it in the water feature of the local mall last week).

Waiting in the sunshine for 8 year old girl to finish school the other day, I had taken the precaution of bringing a book with me. I flopped down onto the fake grass as almost three year old sped off toward the climbing frame with the other boys.

Some minutes later, as I reclined in the sunshine, I distractedly stared around me as almost three year old ambled over toward me.

-‘I did a pooh mama’
-‘oh you DIDN’T, not HERE?’ I sprang to my feet to inspect the damage.
-'where is it?' I demanded
-'Pooh, pooh' he giggled, wiggling his behind. Nothing there.

I won't offend you with the rest of the details, but what followed involved a search and rescue operation and a rapid clean up act on the 'fake' grass, swiftly followed by a hasty retreat as soon as 8 year old girl appeared. I've been avoiding that part of the playground ever since. Sometimes don't you just wish for rain?