*May cause offence*
Don’t read any further if you are a feminist or remotely lacking in a sense of humour. You have been warned.
I was called down today on the walkie-talkie, by Cyndi, one of my ace, hard working team. “It’s a customer…” she said. My sensors went on to full alert. My hackles went up and I cursed. Out loud. It might have involved a ‘OMG, WTF, and THIS will be interesting…’ The office team (fabulous, the lot of them) had looked at each other, with raised eyebrows. They both stared at me… With raised eyebrows. This was worse than a ‘code 10’ call, which in all likelihood would be a shoplifter. Always an interesting experience, but again rare to be asked to go down to the shop floor to deal with ‘a customer’. Be afraid. Very afraid.
Brace yourself, Fi.
I trotted, well, quite honestly, it’d be painful if I’d ‘trotted’. I’d have two black eyes and I’d be booking in ANOTHER appointment with my chiropractor. She must be sick of the sight of me, given my calamity Fi ‘ankle’ and ‘face plant’ incidents. Both face plants and both individually painful. I keep going into the treatment room, and saying, “I look forward to you guessing what I’ve been up to this time….” When she suggested I’d been dancing on some tables, and fallen off….. I stopped playing the guessing game.
So, not knowing what on earth to expect, there was Cyndi, at the security gates, wide eyed, looking worried, waving something at me and said, quietly, “Feminist alert!” That’s all really; and handing me the item that I had to deal with. I tried to scan over it, however, it was a bit too much to take in all the information in the 5 yards I had to walk.
It was a t-towel. This t-towel.
An obviously offensive t-towel, judging by the horrified, pale faces. They launched into me: four women – possibly Mum and three daughters – should pay more attention, however, there was a definite spokeswoman. She was angry. Raging. Mortified.
We should be ashamed, deeply ashamed at selling this item. It is a disgrace and insulting. That was just the tip of the iceberg. She informed me that her sister (who was not willing to look at me) had cried, yes, CRIED, when she read it. Mum, at that point, was staying quiet and one woman just saying nothing. I guess asking them where they’d left there sense of humour might have been out of the question at this point?
The bit about the virgins seemed to send them all into a frenzy. Frothing at the mouth is maybe, just maybe, an incorrect description, but by god, it was a close run thing.
I managed to keep a straight face, including when they pointed out that there didn’t seem to be a ‘man’s’ one. I maintained my composure as I said, “It’s probably sold out.” (Note, no ‘!’) It was the last one in stock. There’s none of the man towels left. Just as well they didn’t see the shagging pigs then, eh? Couldn’t cope with them dragging me to the next section of the shop and getting all ‘vegetarian’ on me.
Oh, how close was I to telling them to just get a sense of humour? I promised that I would take said product off the shelf, and have a meeting with my team. Also, inform the supplier of the t-towel that their design had caused serious offence. Do we withdraw it? Leave a comment below, please!
‘Mum’ got in the last word. As Mums do. “I’m sure you’ve listened.” Said, Mum. I can’t decide who was more scary.
Just as well they didn’t see the new range of cards I’ve got coming into the Filling Station. They would have a bloody field day. That, and the shagging pigs salt and peppers would add fuel to the fire. Phew. Another thing out of stock. Customers DO have a sense of humour!
So, my vote? Put a sign on it that says: *May cause offence*. Fu@k ’em! Mind you, if they post on my favourite website, my reply would have to go viral.
In the meantime, what else has been happening. I’ve been a bitty quiet about all of that really, which is a surprise.
The damage. Yes, last year was all about the Filling Station. Not to worry, if they miss the Filling Station, then statistically the rest of the business is at risk. No shit, Sherlock. So, let the list commence:
The HGV that reversed, not realising they were pushing the rather heavy concrete bollard for the Caravan Parking sign.
The roadies that dumped white lining paint in a great big blob in the car park.
The HGV that took a wide berth to avoid the pumps (thanks for that!), only to take out the flood light and pole and wall. Expensive.
The second driver of the year to destroy the middle step to the Filling Station by driving over it. The fud (hell, go for it Fi; if they got past the photo and are still reading now, then they maybe have a sense of humour) so, where was I? Oh, yes, the fud. He whacked the step. Stopped. Got out. Looked for damage to his car. Drove off. Then had the cheek to deny it.
Ah…. Love CCTV.
The caravan that side-swiped the toilet block.
The delivery van that hit the back corner of the building so hard, he caused the (metal) delivery doors to stop closing. Just as well our builders were on site to sort out this and the wall and floodlight. Good timing.
The customer that complained the spray we were putting on the table made her eyes water, it was so strong. It’s water. Yes, really, it’s water.
That’s about all for now. I’m sure there’s more to come.
Gotta love my work.