The owner was not happy this morning. She was not happy because she had discovered that a couple of potential customers had refused to buy a reconstituted stone bird bath yesterday, because it was chipped. She was unhappy because we had missed out on a sale, and because an expensive stock item was damaged. She made her unhappiness loudly and volubly clear.
Her principal unhappiness was directed at me. I did not serve the couple yesterday. I did not damage the bird bath. I hadn't even touched it. According to the label it weighs 36 kilogrammes. I don't attempt to lift anything weighing 36 kilogrammes. As far as I'm concerned, bird baths arrive from the manufacturer and stay exactly where my colleagues put them, until they are sold, when somebody else lifts them into a customer's car or our van.
However, I had unwisely entered the arena of the chipped bird bath, because I had added a supplementary memo to the rather Delphic note left by the member of staff who did serve the bird bath couple and who was not going to be at work today, explaining why it was that they would not buy the one on display and were asking instead whether we could get another in before Christmas, and what it would cost to have it delivered directly to their house. The owner had written on my note in angry, spiky handwriting that the bird bath ought not to have been chipped, highlighted with pink highlighting pen for extra effect. She demanded to know who had chipped the bird bath, scolded us about the evils of damaging the reconstituted stone ornaments, and lamented the narrowness of the margin she made selling them at the best of times. Then she told me that she had to go out, that the stone company would ring me, and that I must ring the potential customer telling them delivery terms on a new bird bath, and offering a reduction on the one in stock.
We all went out to the plant centre and the manager disappeared, probably to have a nervous breakdown in the polytunnel on the other side of the car park. I spent some time waiting for him to come and tell me what to do, before it dawned on me that he was not going to, so I went and picked up leaves and pruned off mouldy twigs in the heated tunnel. The stone company rang pretty early, and I relayed the news to the customer, delivery to their house £60 including VAT, and they would have to place the order today to be sure of receiving it by Christmas. The customer said she would need to make one phone call, presumably to her husband who was the one to spot the chip yesterday. She didn't call back, so I guess they don't want the chipped bird bath, or to pay £60 to have an unchipped one delivered.
I contemplated leaving a note for the owner at the end of the day, explaining where we had got to with bird baths, and decided against it. Trying to keep your employer informed only leads to trouble.
And now I don't have to think about it at all for three weeks, because I am on holiday. The owner was looking for people to drop days over Christmas, to cut staff costs, and issued an ultimatum to the manager that she wanted a maximum of two, and preferably one person in each day over the Christmas period. I really dislike working a full day in the plant centre on my own. Even if there are only three customers, sod's law dictates they will all arrive at the same time and while the phone is ringing. I could see that I was going to have to agree to lose at least some days, and decided that on that basis I'd rather have a proper break. Accordingly I volunteered to take all four of my working days over Christmas and the New Year off, and watched as the manager crossed my name through on the rota.
That's three solid weeks with no chipped bird baths. No customers who have driven from North Norfolk especially to collect a shrub which I can't find, and whose existence is not recorded anywhere on our system, but which the customer insists we rang to say was ready. No aggressive pushy people demanding I replace the tree which died because their gardener strimmed through the bark. No power cuts so that the till and credit card machines stop working just as a customer with two hundred pounds worth of stuff in their trolley approaches. No worrying about why the tunnel heater won't come on. No till errors to account for.
It will feel like a holiday so long as I don't have to go in at all. Even a single day at work would ruin the beautiful off-duty feeling that for three weeks none of it was my problem. I do feel sorry for my colleague who has been persuaded to work on New Year's Eve, by herself, after the manager booked it as holiday and the third person who would have been in then asked for the time off to go partying. However, she should just have said she couldn't do it. The owners could cover, or shut for an extra day. Still, it's not my business, and not my problem.
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