Oh dear! The last time I went to a garden centre in my scruffs (I.e. not sneaking in on my way home from work and thus in a smart if intimidating uniform) people assumed I was in the trade and started to ask all kind of questions about plant care and what would go together.
Send a complaint in: see what vouchers you can get from it. Either than or tell me where it is and Lady Clarington of Snottsbury-Castle can pay a visit. THEN she'll see someone who surfs the yellow labels!
........ Perhaps that is just how the worman looks/speaks. Some people are just rude in general.
Yes, some people don't have a ready smile, just like some people on forums (I always want to say fora) don't or won't use emoticons to indicate the tone of voice, then their posts can 'sound' snappy and unkind.
So often on a forum it's not what you say, it's the way that you say it.
Gardening in Central Norfolk on improved gritty moraine over chalk ... free-draining.
i used to spend a lot of time strolling around London, visiting art galleries and museums, decked in a disgusting smelly afghan coat, when we decided to walk down Oxford Street and look in the 'big ' shops, there was a very smart doorman at one particular store who told us to go away as there would be nothing in here for us!
now, how did he know we could have been wealthy pop stars at the time, not that we were, oh well, it was back to Carnaby Street for us.
Gardening on the wild, windy west side of Dartmoor.
I remember going into the bank in Cobham in Surrey , straight from work in a ripped up overalls and a 25 year old wax jacket to be given the " look down the nose " treatment.
I got to the front of the queue and asked if I could transfer money from my savings account to my current account.
" Of course, how much would you like to transfer?"
Reference barry's comment about rich people being scruffy: Back in the 60's my father (definitely not wealthy by the way!) was very 'into' antiques and loved 'hunting' around the various markets of London. He rarely bothered to dress up, wore his old demob duffel coat and quite often carried his sandwiches in a tatty plastic bag.
On one visit it started pouring with rain so he decided to visit a couple of the 'posh' auction houses instead. He said he was treated ten times better than when he had previously visited suited and booted to attend an actual auction.
Presumably they either thought he was some eccentric wealthy lord of the manor - or they had the common sense to realise that personal dress code has little to do with the amount of money in the bank account - or they just had nice manners
I really, really hate snotty sales people. Cosmetic and clothes shop assistants are the worse. One persistent clothes sales woman (i'd already told her I did not want any help) asked what size I was. When I told her she said "Oh - I don't think we would have anything in THAT size". I'm a size 14 - so hardly an elephant - but she managed to make me feel like some obese freak - horrible, horrible cow.
Heaven is ... sitting in the garden with a G&T and a cat while watching the sun go down
Posts
Oh dear! The last time I went to a garden centre in my scruffs (I.e. not sneaking in on my way home from work and thus in a smart if intimidating uniform) people assumed I was in the trade and started to ask all kind of questions about plant care and what would go together.
Send a complaint in: see what vouchers you can get from it. Either than or tell me where it is and Lady Clarington of Snottsbury-Castle can pay a visit. THEN she'll see someone who surfs the yellow labels!
Yes, some people don't have a ready smile, just like some people on forums (I always want to say fora) don't or won't use emoticons to indicate the tone of voice, then their posts can 'sound' snappy and unkind.
So often on a forum it's not what you say, it's the way that you say it.
Gardening in Central Norfolk on improved gritty moraine over chalk ... free-draining.
Dove, have you ever considered applying for the Diplomatic Service?
That flowery kaftan reminded me of years ago.
i used to spend a lot of time strolling around London, visiting art galleries and museums, decked in a disgusting smelly afghan coat, when we decided to walk down Oxford Street and look in the 'big ' shops, there was a very smart doorman at one particular store who told us to go away as there would be nothing in here for us!
now, how did he know we could have been wealthy pop stars at the time, not that we were, oh well, it was back to Carnaby Street for us.
well, in those days Jo we didnt do too much answering back!
Those doormen were burly fella's.
I always assumed that it was the wealthy who dressed scruffily and the poor who wore gucci.
I would give credit to the till lady, maybe there had been a previous problem with the pricing, and she was just trying to help you.
I remember going into the bank in Cobham in Surrey , straight from work in a ripped up overalls and a 25 year old wax jacket to be given the " look down the nose " treatment.
I got to the front of the queue and asked if I could transfer money from my savings account to my current account.
" Of course, how much would you like to transfer?"
"£38,400 please" ( deposit for house )
There was an audible gasp behind me.
Reference barry's comment about rich people being scruffy: Back in the 60's my father (definitely not wealthy by the way!) was very 'into' antiques and loved 'hunting' around the various markets of London. He rarely bothered to dress up, wore his old demob duffel coat and quite often carried his sandwiches in a tatty plastic bag.
On one visit it started pouring with rain so he decided to visit a couple of the 'posh' auction houses instead. He said he was treated ten times better than when he had previously visited suited and booted to attend an actual auction.
Presumably they either thought he was some eccentric wealthy lord of the manor - or they had the common sense to realise that personal dress code has little to do with the amount of money in the bank account - or they just had nice manners
I really, really hate snotty sales people. Cosmetic and clothes shop assistants are the worse. One persistent clothes sales woman (i'd already told her I did not want any help) asked what size I was. When I told her she said "Oh - I don't think we would have anything in THAT size". I'm a size 14 - so hardly an elephant - but she managed to make me feel like some obese freak - horrible, horrible cow.
The first time we went into Versace in Bond Street, ( just to have a look )
We asked a chap if he might tell us where menswear was.
He literally looked me up and down and said, in a very drawn out manner
" downstaaaaaaaaaaaaairs"
I replied,
" don't adopt that tone with me darling, you're only the shop assistant"