Is it me you’re looking fleur?

Woman: *Shouting through miniscule gap in very obviously closed and shuttered doors. I mean, really shut. When our shop is shut, if you think it’s still open then you must be used to shopping on the Gaza Strip.* “Helloooooo! Hellooooo! Can I buy some Flowers??”

Me: “I’m sorry…we’re closed. I’m cashing up.”

Woman: “Well you shouldn’t leave your FUCKING LIGHTS ON, then!”

Me: “You want me to cash up in the dark?”

Woman: “Oh, Fuck OFF!”

Listen Carefully.

Customer: “Do you have any really small Christmas trees?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. Our smallest one is 4 foot”

Customer: “I need a very small one. Do you have one smaller than that?”

Me: “What, you mean, like a 3 foot one?”

Customer: “Yes! That would be great. I’ll take one!”

Me: “I’m sorry sir, we only have 4 foot ones and up.”

Customer: “But you just said… Oh. Wait.”

Hands across the Nations.

7am. 23rd April. *Just walked through the door at work, followed in by a man wanting a buttonhole for St George’s day.  I inwardly cringe, cursing that I will have to spend the whole day making red rose buttonholes for gormless racists, and then tell myself to not to pigeonhole people*

Man: “At least you know what a buttonhole is, love!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Man: “Not like them FUCKING Russians at the other shop!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Man: ” Didn’t speak a word of FUCKING English!”

Me: “Ehrm, They’re Latvian and Polish, I think. I talk to them all the time. In English.”

Man: “Whatever. How much?”

Me: “Five Pounds. Sir.”

Man: “Fucking Liberty, you ask me. FIVE POUNDS???”

No?

Woman: (on her actual hands and knees, peering under the metal shutters to the shop -which are rolled down to about a foot from the floor so I can do an Indiana Jones style roll out from under it when I leave- ) at an hour after we normally shut, bellowing “HELLOOOOOOOO?????? ARE YOU STILL OOOOOPENNNNN?????”

Spend a penny

Customer: “Where are the toilets please?”
Me: “Go back into the station *pointing* and take the first right”
Customer: “Where?”
Me: “Into the station. Turn right.”
Customer *Looking at where I am pointing and then pointing in the opposite direction*: “This way?”
Me: “There are signs. Look. TOILET. Follow them.”
Customer: “What signs?”
Me: *again with the pointing* “THOSE ONES. See the arrows?”
Customer: “Are there toilets in the station?”
Me: “Would you like me to go first and leave you a trail of breadcrumbs?”
Customer: “Rude.”

Culture Vulture.

Man: “Hi! I was wondering what there is to do around here?” (London Bridge).
Me: “You want to sightsee?”
Man: “Sure!”
Me: Ok, well, the Shard is right here. In two minutes walk you can see Borough Market; that’s been there since the 11th century. Or Keats’ house, Or the Old Operating theatre museum, Or a 16th century coaching inn. Or Southwark Cathedral. 5 minutes gets you to London Bridge, Winchester Palace, The Golden Hind, The Clink museum, Shakespeare’s Globe. Fifteen minutes and you can walk into the city itself, or St Pauls Cathedral, or The Guildhall…”
Man: “Oh. Well. Is there a McDonalds?”
Me **eyebrow** “Turn right: Opposite Starbucks.”

Date Night.

Man: ” I need some flowers, I’m going on a date.”
Me: “What do you think she’d like? Roses? Lilies?”
Man: “Hmmmm…”
**spends the next ten minutes faffing about choosing a hideous selection of flowers whilst simultaneously rejecting any input from me as to what would look nice**
Man: “What do you think?”
**We both consider the flowers he has picked, which look like something you would see tied to a lamppost at a crash scene**
Me: ” I reckon if you spend another thirty quid and let me choose the flowers, she’ll definitely sleep with you.”
Man: “Sweeeeeeeet!”

Mum.

**phone rings**

Customer: “Hi, I’d like to send some flowers to my mother.”

Me: “Sure! Let me take the details. What’s her name?”

Customer: “Mum.”

Me: “Her Christian name?”

Customer: “Mum.”

Me: “Your mum’s name is…Mum?”

Customer: **as if I’M stupid** “Duh! No, her name is Jeanette.”

Me: “And her surname?”

Customer: “Mum.”

Me: “Jeanette Mum?”

Customer: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “You’re telling me that your mother is called Jeanette Mum?”

Customer: “No, it’s Jeanette Jones.”

Me: ” And her address?”

Customer: “Her address?”

Me: “Yes, the address you would like the flowers sent to.”

Customer: “Oh. I don’t know it.”

Me: “But you want to send her flowers.”

Customer: “Hang on, I’ll get my address book.”

**interminable wait, during which I can hear boxes crash over, feet thundering up and down stairs, dogs barking, etc**

Customer: “Got it.” **Gives address, proceeds to discuss at length what he wants to send**

Me **with trepidation** “…and what would you like to say on the card?”

Customer: “Card?”

Me: “Yes, the message.”

Customer: “Oh, I haven’t thought about that.”

Me: ” Ok, well let me take your credit card details while you’re having a think.”

Customer: “You need my credit card number?”

Me: **World’s biggest eye roll**  “I do, yes.”

Customer: “Ok -let me go and get it.”

**second very long wait, during which I file my nails, finish a crossword, etc**

Customer: “Got it! **proceeds to give number**

Me: “And the message for the card?”

Customer: “Hmmmm….I’ll have to call you back about that…”