I was in a mobile phone shop yesterday with a salesman, sorting out the details of my new iPhone contract, when an irritable older gentleman marched in off the street and interrupted us.
“What’s your name?” he barked at the salesman, “I need it for Trading Standards.”
“It’s Chris,” came the reply. The expression on Chris’s face suggested that he had seen it all before.
“Chris WHAT?”
“I’m the only Chris in this store so it makes no difference.”
I feel sorry for the 3 Store staff on Church Street. Not only do they have people like that barging in, but three days a week a group of Christian fundamentalists set up shop outside, complete with a fire and brimstone preacher who yells continuously from 10am until 4pm about how we’re all going to hell. It’s not an environment that’s conducive for selling Blackberries.
I will point out that I have no beef with Chris – he was very polite and helpful. Although, after the aforementioned encounter, he did seem extra keen to make sure I understood how many inclusive minutes I was getting.