When I got to work I discovered that they have finally done something about the muddy track across the back of the plant centre. For years, in fact for the whole of the plant centre's existence, the route from the back of the shop to the loo and the office consisted of a desire line across a patch of grass, which wore away the grass and left a chain of puddles in wet weather. The staff periodically lobbied the boss that we needed a proper path, because it looked awful, and because we were left shuffling around in the puddles if there were any plant deliveries after it had been raining. The boss always harrumphed about this, and said that he didn't want a cowboy job, and it would get done properly at some point. I have no idea if it has been done with proper foundations, but the gardener has cut away the damaged grass to form a broad, straight path, which is lavishly coated with fresh gravel. It looks about a thousand times better.
The latest delivery of large specimens from Italy came in as well, on Friday, and is sitting on the grass at the back of the plant centre, half of it still tied up in net bags. The manager left us a long list of things to do over the weekend, but removing the bags didn't feature until Sunday, and as we didn't manage to finish Saturday's jobs we never got on to de-bagging. I felt sorry for the plants, which looked as though they could do with some more air, but one more day probably won't make a great difference. And the first delivery of herbs had arrived since the last time I was at work, and some roses.
A cheerful and courteous man and his wife bought over £650 worth of plants, which helped swell the day's takings. As I put the contents of their three trolleys through the till, which took some time, his wife fetched him a chair to sit on, and he explained without rancour that he had bad sciatica, and it was a damn nuisance. His wife had vetoed his preferred treatment, which was for two beautiful women to walk up and down his spine, though he said she had offered to walk on it herself. He asked to be remembered to the boss, and when I asked his name it turned out to be one of those great gardening names that are commemorated in a group of plants. They'd driven up all the way from Sussex with a van.
Another customer rang to ask whether we sold spiral rabbit guards, and how much they were. The answer was yes, and 50p each. She said she needed quite a lot and would there be a discount? Quite a lot translated to 20, which is quite a few tree guards, but still only ten pounds worth. I don't think a tenner gets you a discount anywhere, certainly not with us. The famous name from Sussex didn't get a discount, though when he enquired amiably if he could I did suggest he should speak to the owner.
The strategy of putting the large and expensive Edgworthia by the till finally resulted in a sale, as I remarked (apparently casually though really with intent) to someone who was admiring it that we had some smaller ones in the tunnel, and she went and got one. I still think that there is only a limited amount that the staff can do to sell more. We can help customers find plants they would otherwise miss, and suggest good planting combinations, or in this case offer temptation in the form of smaller specimens, £20 suddenly looking a bargain when the big one is twice that. But in the end they come in with an idea and a budget, and all we can do is enhance things at the margins. All of our wiles and strategems in the course of an entire week don't make as much difference as whether or not Mr famous name decides to make a trip up from Sussex with a van.
The day's takings were further boosted by a couple from Lavenham who bought £450 worth of plants, including seven trees, and overall we were busy, which is good, and what you'd hope for at this time of year. In the morning I'll discover if we made any mistakes on the till.
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