Wednesday 27th February
Well, raced out of work today, complete with shopping list - top of it - Mother's Day gift. Ended up in Thornton's, where I bought her a nice box of fragrant jellies, and a large box of what appear to be miniature chocolate bars, from single estate (country?) producers. I thought she'd maybe enjoy the mini bar effect, I doubt the taste of the stuff will cross her mind! Anyhow I'm doing night shifts this weekend, so I'm not going to make it over there till Monday, but it's the thought that counts as they say. Needless to say it was what, seven o'clock this evening by the time I remembered I hadn't bought a card. Still I've got to go to the Post Office tomorrow, so I can stop off at a card shop then.
Well I was - I am, still thinking about what I was writing about below. In the spirit of this, I'd like to tell you about an experience I had the other day. Those of you who've read this blog over the past few months will have noticed a certain motif creeping in at points where I'm mentioning the Post Office in the Galleries in Bristol? Yes, they've this irritating new system in there, where you have to take a ticket rather than queue for the next available counter. No one knows where they are with this - half of the people disappear before their number comes up, so the poor old counter assistants are all "646?", enquiring glance, "646 please." Rapid eye movement, accompanied by swift avoidance of those seeking to catch an eye, and butt in ahead of their turn. Despairing sigh. "647". And so on. If you're lucky, at that point up crops the woman with 50 small packets in a large bag, or the oap nipping in to pick up 3 weeks worth of pension. Why is it never the person seeking to send a simple letter ahead of me? (Yes, I know, that's automated, and they simply don't need to queue...)
Anyhow I digress. Earlier this week, I went in to post some packets (yes I'm the woman with the large bag full of tiny packets...) anyhow, I hate this system. And lo and behold, there was a large group of rather self-important looking individuals standing there as one lectured waving his hand at the post office. I nipped over to the poor sod who has to stand and explain to the newcomers what's going on here, and said "Are they responsible for this?" "Yes," she says, clearly not wishing to enquire further because she's seen the glint in my eyes. "Right." I said, the grind of the teeth probably giving away way too much.
Essentially at that point I marched straight up to them, and gave them what I best describe as 'What for.' At some point I remember some hapless man in a suit suggesting to me that this was a 'trial post office', to which I remember replying, "Excellent. Get it changed back pronto!" Suffice to say I left them with no doubt as to how much I dislike this idiotic system, before swiftly ducking away and back into the post office so that I could get my business done without missing my turn. They had gone by the time I got out, no doubt swiftly to avoid my exit - but if they thought I'd be out of there swiftly, they're living in cloud cuckoo land, because it took me at least another 25 minutes - all to post two packets.
Anyhow I didn't feel particularly proud of myself. I said my piece, but I was extremely nervy about interrupting a whole bunch of them and of course I didn't say everything I could have said about it. I'm a bit cross that I didn't speak more slowly, and let them get in their interruptions, because there isn't an objection they could raise that I couldn't refute. What irritates me most about the whole damn thing is that what I said won't make the blindest bit of difference. It never does. Companies don't pay attention to their customers, it's all about cost per head, and all that guff. Nothing will change. It never does. But at least I did say my piece.
