Customer service ain’t wot it used to be. Without betraying my irritation to the extent as to trigger the woman serving me to press the red button under the counter, I made sure that she knew that I wasn’t happy. I had walked into one of those areas dominated by council housing with only one shop on the estate, finding that my drinks bottle was empty while desperately needing a drink.
I located a drink and a sausage roll, somewhat overpriced (but that is often the case where the alternative is at least a mile away) and took them to the counter. This was guarded by a plastic screen, offering the apparent double protection against both COVID and a sawn-off shotgun. With the facial expression of someone watching paint dry, devoid of any obvious enthusiasm for her role, she pointed me to the sign that the minimum purchase using a debit or credit card was £4. I can’t say the shop had numerous attractive options to increase my potential spend of £2.79 but a packet of licorice allsorts at £1.25 just about tipped the balance. The fact that I spent around two minutes to choose them incurred not a flicker of emotion from the ‘rules is rules’ shop woman. Barely a muttered ‘thank you’ from either of us at the closing of our transaction.
That whole drama occurred about 16 miles in. On another dry day with another 0% rain forecast, it wasn’t quite as warm as last week with a keen breeze at times. I took a fairly direct route to Port Solent for coffee as the mileage just passed into double figures. Rewind to a conversation that I must have had a thousand times. Or at least a large number of times.
B (Barista): Hello, sorry to keep you waiting.
K (me): That’s fine.
B: What would you like?
K: Can I have a large latte with vanilla?
B: Thanks. Is that to have in or take away?
K: To have in, but can I have a take away cup?
B: Yes, that’s fine. Would you like to try our new seasonal blend of coffee?
K: Oh no thank you.
B: Is there anything else you’d like?
K: No thank you, that’s fine.
B: Do you have a C**** card?
K: Yes I do. (Hands card to B)
B: Thanks. (Swipes C**** card) (Every 1 in 8 coffees: B: Ah, you have a free one. Would you like that? K: Yes please) (7 times out of 8: B: Ok, that will be x pounds y please – where x and y become increasingly larger over time).
Today was a 1 in 8 time, free coffee, or (of course) a chance to recoup some of the overpayments for the previous seven. A half hour sitting down, pondering the world, practicing my own form of mindfulness and meditation. I wasn’t so galvanised by the infusion of coffee as on some other occasions but I didn’t feel too bad until my right inside heel started hurting. I have had a blister there from my new walking boots and patched it up again with Compeed prior to starting out this morning – there is clearly a not-so-sweet spot there.
At least the streets were mostly bathed in sunshine and it doesn’t feel such an effort now we’re approaching summer. Such a contrast to winter when, while council staff were gritting the roads, walkers were gritting their teeth. My feet were rubbing me up the wrong way almost as much as the shop ‘assistant’ but I limped in at 21.59 miles. And I have a bit of Bertie Bassett for company.
Spiceboy's Very Long Walk 