I popped into M&S food hall today and before I could put anything in my basket I’m stopped in the first aisle by a sweet old man.
It took a few attempts until I guessed right – he’s asking for a personal shopper to collect his shopping as he’s no spring chicken. Fittingly (ha-ha) we were in the meats aisle, not my forte or I would have offered to take on the role myself.
I duly went to customer services and a very nice manager type blonde told me she’d send someone round. Immediately, she asked two of her staff to swap jobs so the more junior of the duo could undertake said shopping.
I let the gentleman know and pointed at the helpful lady from where he stood aided by his walking stick, as if to prove that I did do as I was told.
As I went up and down the aisles, I kept checking to see if anyone was helping him feeling increasingly guilty as he waited. And waited.
On the way back, I deliberately walked past where I left him and I saw him talking to another unsuspecting shopper. I was about to go and see if he was alright and then saw a young work experience type walking towards his with steak and kidney pie (or something). He was being helped. What lovely service, that will be me in 30 years.
Later, having battled with the addictive but destructive (that’s if you buy three or more items) self-service tills, I’m double charged for an item. Upon going back to customer services to obtain the refund (yes, have done this before) I’m told by the ultra-friendly assistant I would never make an M&S Saturday girl as I can’t handle a till without putting an item through twice! Apparently the self service tills are there to test me.
Still reeling from the shock and after explaining that a food tester for M&S was always a dream job for me, I find the person standing next to me is the aforementioned shopper, getting priority check out service. I now realise why I didn’t understand him; he’s Irish and a ladies man at that.