I felt myself becoming impatient with the doddering woman in front of me at the supermarket checkout. I had chosen the checkout based on it only having this woman to go through ahead of me with her small number of items. The self-service lanes were full and there was a long queue and I had one too many items for the express lane.
The cashier was efficient and friendly but the woman needed to get some cash out and seemed to have stepped directly from 1974 - a time before plastic money was available with just a swipe, wave or press of a button. E v e n t u a l l y the woman withdrew her cash and was finished. I was next.
The cashier asked me to wait one moment while she changed the receipt paper in the cash register. At this point I relaxed. If I had chosen a different egress I would probably not be any further advanced.
When the cashier came back she noticed that the woman who had withdrawn the cash had walked away without taking her purchases. A quick look around didn't reveal her, but she was slow moving and I was pretty sure she would still be somewhere nearby. I paid and said that I would let her know if I saw her on my way out.
There she was, clad in her black puffer jacket, gazing in the window at the butcher's meat display. At least, I hoped it was her as I approached.
"Excuse me," I said to gain her attention.
She looked up immediately, confused and frightened.
"I think you were ahead of me at the Woolworths checkout?"
She nodded yes.
"Well you left your shopping behind."
"Oh! I'm always doing that! Aren't you a darling for finding me!"
"I'm so pleased I did. It would be awful to arrive home without your purchases. It's at the last checkout, on the end," I added, worried that she wouldn't remember where she had been. I pointed her in the direction.
Off she doddered in the general direction of the supermarket. I was nearly going to go with her to make sure she arrived, but I didn't want to impose.
I suppose this is what is called a "good deed". It cost me nothing to help this woman and I know that a few minutes of my time saved this woman money and worry. Ironically, if I hadn't been willing her to hurry up at the check out, I may not have registered enough details to be able to find her again!
I hope a kind soul does the same for me one day when I'm doddering and absent-minded.
What was your last good deed?
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Friday, 4 July 2014
Tuesday, 20 May 2014
7 steps to inspire customer loyalty - effortlessly!
My shoe shop called last week. When I tell people, they look at me as though I'm the only person on earth who has a shoe shop. I look back as though I can't believe that they don't have a shoe shop.
My shoe shop is a peek into the relationships I have with businesses with which I deal regularly. These are successful and mutually beneficial relationships. I've been reflecting on what makes them tick. I think the elements are transferable to other situations. It doesn't matter if it's shoes, clothes, electronics, stationery or personal services.
divacultura's 7 principles of customer service to inspire loyalty
1. My first experience was great. I still remember that Alice served me and I bought a pair of long black boots and a pair of red heels. To put this into perspective, my first visit was at least seven years ago.
2. My first experience was so good, I went back. Alice remembered me. She didn't remember my name without a prompt, but she remembered our interaction.
3. Third time through the doors and the staff recognised me and greeted me like a friend.
4. Sometimes I wander in, not necessarily with a view to buying, but with a view to looking. The staff are happy to play if it's not busy and are happy to bring me shoes just to try. Quite often they surprise me with something that I had overlooked on the shelf, but loved on my feet.
5. Even if it is busy when I go in, I never feel rushed and feel like I am being paid full attention.
6. We trust each other. Last year there was a mix up and an extra pair of boots I already owned was put aside under my name and marked as "paid". Rebecca called to find out when I was collecting them. I already had my boots and told her there had been some error. In that split second I realised that I could have just said that I would be in to collect them "tomorrow" and scored another pair of boots. That's not how I roll and I know my honesty was really appreciated.
7. Rebecca knows what I like and keeps an eye out for things that might appeal to me and then gives me a call. There's no pressure. It's a friendly call and I find it helpful.
When I look over this list, it's not rocket science! These are easy things to do and they have an impact. I only buy shoes there now. Actually, I'm a very loyal customer. Once I find somewhere I like the people, they like me and I like the product, I will stick with them forever. Notice how the product is the third thing in the list.
I've even considered whether these principles apply in the online retail environment. They absolutely do. (I'm thinking about my favourite online clothing store, Birdsnest.)
Where do you like to shop? What keeps you coming back? If you're in business, does your customer service inspire loyalty?
"My" shoe shop is called Sole Devotion. I was not asked or provided any incentive to write this post (other than being inspired by great service!).
My shoe shop is a peek into the relationships I have with businesses with which I deal regularly. These are successful and mutually beneficial relationships. I've been reflecting on what makes them tick. I think the elements are transferable to other situations. It doesn't matter if it's shoes, clothes, electronics, stationery or personal services.
divacultura's 7 principles of customer service to inspire loyalty
1. My first experience was great. I still remember that Alice served me and I bought a pair of long black boots and a pair of red heels. To put this into perspective, my first visit was at least seven years ago.
2. My first experience was so good, I went back. Alice remembered me. She didn't remember my name without a prompt, but she remembered our interaction.
3. Third time through the doors and the staff recognised me and greeted me like a friend.
4. Sometimes I wander in, not necessarily with a view to buying, but with a view to looking. The staff are happy to play if it's not busy and are happy to bring me shoes just to try. Quite often they surprise me with something that I had overlooked on the shelf, but loved on my feet.
5. Even if it is busy when I go in, I never feel rushed and feel like I am being paid full attention.
6. We trust each other. Last year there was a mix up and an extra pair of boots I already owned was put aside under my name and marked as "paid". Rebecca called to find out when I was collecting them. I already had my boots and told her there had been some error. In that split second I realised that I could have just said that I would be in to collect them "tomorrow" and scored another pair of boots. That's not how I roll and I know my honesty was really appreciated.
7. Rebecca knows what I like and keeps an eye out for things that might appeal to me and then gives me a call. There's no pressure. It's a friendly call and I find it helpful.
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| They followed me home. © 2014 divacultura |
I've even considered whether these principles apply in the online retail environment. They absolutely do. (I'm thinking about my favourite online clothing store, Birdsnest.)
Where do you like to shop? What keeps you coming back? If you're in business, does your customer service inspire loyalty?
"My" shoe shop is called Sole Devotion. I was not asked or provided any incentive to write this post (other than being inspired by great service!).
Monday, 7 April 2014
You must want this - because we're telling you you do!
On my way home this evening I walked past the H & M store which opened in Melbourne's old GPO building in Bourke Street on Saturday. Until this week, I had never heard of H & M. Apparently they are a Swedish clothing retailer and we're supposed to be beside ourselves with excitement.
By the middle of last week, builders were putting the final touches to the building and installing red carpets, velvet ropes, spotlights and marquees. There was also a huge digital clock counting down the very seconds until our deprivation would be ended and Melbourne would have the only H & M store in Australia. I watched as two young women shooed the fifty-year old male security guard behind a pillar so they could take photographs of the front entry (before the store opened). A whippet thin, spray tanned PR blond standing nearby smirked as she tried to operate her phone with her stupidly long fake fingernails.
Since the opening on Saturday, people have been queuing for hours to gain entry. To a shop. That's right, people have been lining up for hours so they can go into a shop. If it was World War II and we were in Leningrad, then this might be appropriate if the shop was a bakery or supermarket, but it isn't. Presumably all of the merchandise inside the shop is only a click away from the comfort of bed if your ipad is handy. Amongst all the groaning about the demise of bricks and mortar retailers, the hype seems ridiculous.
On Saturday there was a DJ inside Flinders Street Station. That was nice, but it didn't inspire me to go and stand in a line for hours. Banners at Southern Cross Station told me that the moment I'd been waiting for had arrived!
I wonder what it's like inside and whether there are crowds of people and the restriction of numbers is just to keep the queue in place, with the double effect of scarcity and desirability sending the message that everyone needs to be there.
A quick look at their website suggests that it's Swedish Target or Big W. I suppose that's handy, but it's not enough for me to stand in a line for hours. I would have trouble doing this for the Leningrad Bakery, I'm certainly not doing it now.
The last time I queued was Expo 88 in Brisbane. The whole city learned how to queue for hours at Expo. It was so well-organised and there was passing entertainment, that you didn't mind. You knew that it was only going to be there for 6 months, so there was a now or never aspect to it. Word got out very quickly about what was worth queuing for and logically, the places that were worth the wait always had a wait. I haven't heard that H & M is a pop up shop and will be gone soon. I can just wait until the day I can just walk in the door. I expect to be as underwhelmed as I was when Zara opened at the other end of the mall.
I wonder how long the velvet ropes and security guards will last? Have you been to H & M? What's it like? What are you willing to queue for?
By the middle of last week, builders were putting the final touches to the building and installing red carpets, velvet ropes, spotlights and marquees. There was also a huge digital clock counting down the very seconds until our deprivation would be ended and Melbourne would have the only H & M store in Australia. I watched as two young women shooed the fifty-year old male security guard behind a pillar so they could take photographs of the front entry (before the store opened). A whippet thin, spray tanned PR blond standing nearby smirked as she tried to operate her phone with her stupidly long fake fingernails.
Since the opening on Saturday, people have been queuing for hours to gain entry. To a shop. That's right, people have been lining up for hours so they can go into a shop. If it was World War II and we were in Leningrad, then this might be appropriate if the shop was a bakery or supermarket, but it isn't. Presumably all of the merchandise inside the shop is only a click away from the comfort of bed if your ipad is handy. Amongst all the groaning about the demise of bricks and mortar retailers, the hype seems ridiculous.
On Saturday there was a DJ inside Flinders Street Station. That was nice, but it didn't inspire me to go and stand in a line for hours. Banners at Southern Cross Station told me that the moment I'd been waiting for had arrived!
I wonder what it's like inside and whether there are crowds of people and the restriction of numbers is just to keep the queue in place, with the double effect of scarcity and desirability sending the message that everyone needs to be there.
A quick look at their website suggests that it's Swedish Target or Big W. I suppose that's handy, but it's not enough for me to stand in a line for hours. I would have trouble doing this for the Leningrad Bakery, I'm certainly not doing it now.
The last time I queued was Expo 88 in Brisbane. The whole city learned how to queue for hours at Expo. It was so well-organised and there was passing entertainment, that you didn't mind. You knew that it was only going to be there for 6 months, so there was a now or never aspect to it. Word got out very quickly about what was worth queuing for and logically, the places that were worth the wait always had a wait. I haven't heard that H & M is a pop up shop and will be gone soon. I can just wait until the day I can just walk in the door. I expect to be as underwhelmed as I was when Zara opened at the other end of the mall.
I wonder how long the velvet ropes and security guards will last? Have you been to H & M? What's it like? What are you willing to queue for?
Saturday, 9 February 2013
Friday moments
It happened because I thought I knew what was written in my diary without actually checking my diary. Those assumptions will kill you!
Luckily the client was very understanding and we've rescheduled.
*****
One of the phrases I noticed people saying this week: "Too easy."
It was uttered by a man helping another person. I pondered this phrase and wondered what it means.
Is it a complaint? Is the person really saying "give me something harder to do because that really was too easy"? Or is it an assessment of their own competence: "that's too easy for me".
Then I stopped thinking about it because it was making my head hurt.
*****
I went to buy a new pair of black shoes at my favourite shoe store yesterday. I knew exactly the ones that I would buy.
They didn't have them in my size. And they never will now. Once they're gone, they're gone.
Here's what came home with me instead....
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| ©divacultura 2013 |
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| ©divacultura 2013 |
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| ©divacultura 2013 |
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| ©divacultura 2013 |
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| ©divacultura 2013 |
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| ©divacultura 2013 |
Aren't they lovely? The black ones were the same as these, except, well, black.
So that was my week's end. Now it's the weekend.
Friday, 5 October 2012
My favourite things - the lemonade stand
1. The "pop up shop" at Seddon train station. It popped up this morning and was still there four hours later when I returned from the city. The proprietors are two bold, blond-headed eight-year-old boys and they have a cunning entrepreneurial spirit. This morning as I walked to the station, the one with the curls approached me and offered to sell me some flowers. They had a tartan rug and all the flowers were beautifully laid out. I explained about my hayfever and said that I couldn't buy flowers because of it, but I wished them well. I asked him how it was going and he said "okay" and that they'd had donations from a couple of people. He looked at me meaningfully with a maturely cocked eyebrow. I decided not to make a donation; these boys looked like they were serious about business.
When I returned in the afternoon, they had diversified. They were now offering home made lemonade for $1 a cup. I asked who made it. Ethan had. I asked if it was good.
"It's very good," he said solemnly. There was pulp floating in it so it looked real. I had a momentary worry about washing up and who else had used the cup, but decided I would be okay.
The boys engaged in entertaining banter while I sipped my lemonade. An old man made his way from across the street to enquire about the price of a cup of lemonade. He decided $1 was a good price but shook his head when a cup was proffered at half mast. "If I'm paying a dollar, I want a full cup," he said. These boys showed excellent customer service instincts, apologising immediately and happily rectifying the error.
I noticed some small bunches of lavender were still available.
"How much is your lavender?"
"It's a dollar. We've got the English or the French. The French is a smaller bunch 'cos the flowers are bigger, but the English smells better, I reckon," one of them said earnestly.
He displayed the two options and asked me which I would like.
"I'll take one bunch of the English please."
"An excellent choice," he said as he took my dollar.
I asked how business was. They said it was pretty good and that they had made $60 for the day.
"What are your expansion plans?" I asked.
"Well we're getting ready for peak hour."
"What do you think about your shop location for peak hour?"
"Yeah, we've been thinking about that. What do you think?"
I made a couple of suggestions, including staying right where they were until they had seen the pattern of foot traffic coming off the first couple of peak hour services. They thought this was a good idea and advised they would consider it.
I wished them all the best and thanked them for the lemonade and the lavender.
I was going to ask them if I could take a photo of them and their shop, but felt it freak them out. Here's a picture of the lavender instead.
2. I discovered a precinct in Melbourne Central that I hadn't visited before. It's a new food court and shopping area which is cleverly decorated and has better than the usual foodcourt suspects. I enjoyed a Mexican quesadilla from one of the zillion Mexican joints springing up and also had a coffee and cake for afternoon tea after some wandering around with my camera.
This place has a wonderfully coherent and pleasing design theme. The pale green (shown in the saucer above) shows up in a few places.
I gazed at this still life arrangement as I enjoyed my afternoon tea. You can see the same green in the handle of the egg beater.
The chairs were funky too.
3. There's a little library in this part of the world! A cool idea in the middle of a retail area frequented by students. Its philosophy is written on the window and I'm inspired to drop of some books when I'm next in the neighbourhood.
4. The shot tower at Melbourne Central. This has to be one of the cleverest renovations/preservations around. Who ever is in charge of the centre deserves congratulating. There are lots of delightful details.
5. The prose in Nick Cave's first novel, "And the Ass saw the Angel". It's incredible: dense, rich and requiring gorging. I'm very grateful for the built-in dictionary in my e-reader too. Here are a couple of my favourite passages. Not for the fainthearted:
"Mummy was a swine - a scum-cunted, likkered-up, brain-sick swine. She was lazy and slothful and dirty and belligerent and altogether evil. Ma was a soak - a drunk - a piss-eyed hell-bag with a taste for the homebrew." (page 26).
"Finding Toad covered in pig-shit and sucking a trotter, they had chased him out of the Morton's valley to roam the gullies and gulches of the out-hills, a sore Goliath shunned by his own blood, without friend or companion save the league of demons that rubbed and itched amongst the crags and sunless cracks of his bad, mad and unholy brain." (page 34)
"His demented eyes egged in their orbits as if they were being laid." (page 56)
What are your favourite things this week? Have you ever run a lemonade stand?
When I returned in the afternoon, they had diversified. They were now offering home made lemonade for $1 a cup. I asked who made it. Ethan had. I asked if it was good.
"It's very good," he said solemnly. There was pulp floating in it so it looked real. I had a momentary worry about washing up and who else had used the cup, but decided I would be okay.
The boys engaged in entertaining banter while I sipped my lemonade. An old man made his way from across the street to enquire about the price of a cup of lemonade. He decided $1 was a good price but shook his head when a cup was proffered at half mast. "If I'm paying a dollar, I want a full cup," he said. These boys showed excellent customer service instincts, apologising immediately and happily rectifying the error.
I noticed some small bunches of lavender were still available.
"How much is your lavender?"
"It's a dollar. We've got the English or the French. The French is a smaller bunch 'cos the flowers are bigger, but the English smells better, I reckon," one of them said earnestly.
He displayed the two options and asked me which I would like.
"I'll take one bunch of the English please."
"An excellent choice," he said as he took my dollar.
I asked how business was. They said it was pretty good and that they had made $60 for the day.
"What are your expansion plans?" I asked.
"Well we're getting ready for peak hour."
"What do you think about your shop location for peak hour?"
"Yeah, we've been thinking about that. What do you think?"
I made a couple of suggestions, including staying right where they were until they had seen the pattern of foot traffic coming off the first couple of peak hour services. They thought this was a good idea and advised they would consider it.
I wished them all the best and thanked them for the lemonade and the lavender.
I was going to ask them if I could take a photo of them and their shop, but felt it freak them out. Here's a picture of the lavender instead.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
2. I discovered a precinct in Melbourne Central that I hadn't visited before. It's a new food court and shopping area which is cleverly decorated and has better than the usual foodcourt suspects. I enjoyed a Mexican quesadilla from one of the zillion Mexican joints springing up and also had a coffee and cake for afternoon tea after some wandering around with my camera.
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| Coffee and cake at Cupcake Central (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| The tiles (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Still life with cupcakes (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Geometrix (c) divacultura 2012 |
3. There's a little library in this part of the world! A cool idea in the middle of a retail area frequented by students. Its philosophy is written on the window and I'm inspired to drop of some books when I'm next in the neighbourhood.
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| Little Library rules (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Giant white chandeliers, reimagined (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Mezzanine chairs (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Shot tower shadows and living wall (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Shot tower I (c) divacultura 2012 |
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| Shot tower II (c) divacultura 2012 |
"Mummy was a swine - a scum-cunted, likkered-up, brain-sick swine. She was lazy and slothful and dirty and belligerent and altogether evil. Ma was a soak - a drunk - a piss-eyed hell-bag with a taste for the homebrew." (page 26).
"Finding Toad covered in pig-shit and sucking a trotter, they had chased him out of the Morton's valley to roam the gullies and gulches of the out-hills, a sore Goliath shunned by his own blood, without friend or companion save the league of demons that rubbed and itched amongst the crags and sunless cracks of his bad, mad and unholy brain." (page 34)
"His demented eyes egged in their orbits as if they were being laid." (page 56)
Sunday, 18 December 2011
Suburban shopping with a dose of karma
My confession for today is that I willingly entered a suburban shopping centre to complete my Christmas shopping and satisfy my need for a white flower (part of my costume for this evening's vocal group performance). Today of all days! The last Sunday before Christmas Day.
Preparation was the key and I arrived five minutes after the opening time of 10am. Already the prime parking spots were taken, but I was able to park within a few minutes of arriving. Determined shoppers made a beeline for the entries. They looked like they had a plan and knew exactly where they were going. Just like me really. In and out was the plan.
I managed to complete my shopping within 90 minutes of arriving and was feeling pleased enough to observe the place. It was no longer easy to zoom through the pedestrian thoroughfares. It was now an obstacle course of aimless wanderers, people too absorbed in their phones to notice the real people within their vicinity, people with prams flanked by an emu parade of energised toddlers and slouching teenagers and people flogging beauty products. Standing in the middle of a shopping centre is exactly where I want to have my nails buffed by the miracle buffer or be manhandled by an ugly 20 year old man trying to flirt with me as he tries to rub moisturiser onto me.
The kids at Boost juice were having fun by turning up the music to drown out the sound of the blenders (that is, loud enough to make your ears bleed) and showing no awareness of the resulting cacophony assaulting passers-by.
As part of a Christmas promotion, any purchase of more than $10 entitled shoppers to go in the draw to win $10,000 (handy at any time). In a clever marketing strategy, you could also see if you'd won an instant prize. In most cases this required spending more money in a particular shop. I swapped a jewellery voucher for a coffee voucher and gave a maternity voucher to a woman who clearly needed it more than I did. The coffee voucher was a two for one and as I was on my own (and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible) I stalked the line of people waiting at the relevant store. Two sad looking men were standing there. I walked up and smiled and offered the voucher to the first man. He looked at me as though I had just offered him an envelope of anthrax. The second man in the queue nodded, took the voucher and didn't meet my eyes. I wished him merry Christmas, he said nothing in reply and continued to avoid my eyes.
I figured I may as well give the vouchers to someone who might use them rather than just put them in the bin. The least they could say is "thanks". Actually, the least they could say was nothing at all; this is the option they chose.
These shopping centres are quite like airports in their vibe - closed in, bustling environments with a hum of constant noise bouncing off all the hard surfaces. And people wandering around. At least the airport is just a jumping off point in the journey to another destination. The shopping centre seems to be the destination itself.
When I walked out to find my car, many more cars were driving in circles trying vainly to find a place to park. I felt their eyes lock on me as soon as they saw me as a shopper with bags heading away from the shopping centre. They started to drive very slowly behind me, trying to read my direction from slight twitches in my body language. The trouble was I wasn't completely sure of exactly where I had parked the car, so a few people may have misread my twitches. I didn't hear the sound of crunching metal, but I did hear the sound of screeching brakes when I tripped over my car. She was so excited, you'd think I'd just told her she'd won the $10,000.
Preparation was the key and I arrived five minutes after the opening time of 10am. Already the prime parking spots were taken, but I was able to park within a few minutes of arriving. Determined shoppers made a beeline for the entries. They looked like they had a plan and knew exactly where they were going. Just like me really. In and out was the plan.
I managed to complete my shopping within 90 minutes of arriving and was feeling pleased enough to observe the place. It was no longer easy to zoom through the pedestrian thoroughfares. It was now an obstacle course of aimless wanderers, people too absorbed in their phones to notice the real people within their vicinity, people with prams flanked by an emu parade of energised toddlers and slouching teenagers and people flogging beauty products. Standing in the middle of a shopping centre is exactly where I want to have my nails buffed by the miracle buffer or be manhandled by an ugly 20 year old man trying to flirt with me as he tries to rub moisturiser onto me.
The kids at Boost juice were having fun by turning up the music to drown out the sound of the blenders (that is, loud enough to make your ears bleed) and showing no awareness of the resulting cacophony assaulting passers-by.
As part of a Christmas promotion, any purchase of more than $10 entitled shoppers to go in the draw to win $10,000 (handy at any time). In a clever marketing strategy, you could also see if you'd won an instant prize. In most cases this required spending more money in a particular shop. I swapped a jewellery voucher for a coffee voucher and gave a maternity voucher to a woman who clearly needed it more than I did. The coffee voucher was a two for one and as I was on my own (and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible) I stalked the line of people waiting at the relevant store. Two sad looking men were standing there. I walked up and smiled and offered the voucher to the first man. He looked at me as though I had just offered him an envelope of anthrax. The second man in the queue nodded, took the voucher and didn't meet my eyes. I wished him merry Christmas, he said nothing in reply and continued to avoid my eyes.
I figured I may as well give the vouchers to someone who might use them rather than just put them in the bin. The least they could say is "thanks". Actually, the least they could say was nothing at all; this is the option they chose.
These shopping centres are quite like airports in their vibe - closed in, bustling environments with a hum of constant noise bouncing off all the hard surfaces. And people wandering around. At least the airport is just a jumping off point in the journey to another destination. The shopping centre seems to be the destination itself.
When I walked out to find my car, many more cars were driving in circles trying vainly to find a place to park. I felt their eyes lock on me as soon as they saw me as a shopper with bags heading away from the shopping centre. They started to drive very slowly behind me, trying to read my direction from slight twitches in my body language. The trouble was I wasn't completely sure of exactly where I had parked the car, so a few people may have misread my twitches. I didn't hear the sound of crunching metal, but I did hear the sound of screeching brakes when I tripped over my car. She was so excited, you'd think I'd just told her she'd won the $10,000.
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Four more weeks.
With only four weeks until Christmas, shoppers are out in force and the blaring Christmas music provides a soundtrack to the push-and-shove shopping experience. Is it any wonder online shopping is doing well? You can click and buy from the comfort of your own home over a cup of tea and fruit mince tart with pleasing music to accompany.
Why then, did I think a visit to Federation Square's Mark It would be a good idea?
In the Atrium and BMW Edge, at least it was safe from the unpredictable spring weather. Most of Melbourne was crowded into this space and most of Melbourne had missed its manners today. From the glimpses I caught over dandruff sprinkled shoulders and through the crook of elbows and past enormous ears, there appeared to be some very fine wares for sale. How one made a purchase was not clear to me. As soon as I thought I would be able to make it to the front and have an unimpeded view, a woman with an enormous bag or boobs would shoulder charge to the front.
I didn't get to fondle and I didn't get to see. I didn't get to smell and I didn't get to dangle. So not a single purchase was made. At one point a woman behind me commented that she wanted to get the business card of a particular stall so I snaked my hand through and gave her a bundle. She asked me if I worked there and I replied that I just felt her pain.
Shoppers' faces were frowning. The smell of anxiety hung heavy.
As I stood locked in by people and bags on all sides a moment of catastrophe came into mind. What would happen if there was a fire? I would surely die. We would surely die. Except those people with the giant bags and boobs who seemed to be able to get to wherever they were going.
I think my consideration of other people is what works against me in this setting. I don't say this to sound like some kind of angel - I'm not - but rather I work with awareness of people around me. I think that everyone else does too. This is not true.
I returned home empty handed and had also endured the bus replacement service. No trains are running on my line today because of track work. This will lead to improvements at some unspecified future time. At this current time, it's a gigantic pain. The buses are unpredictable in their arrivals and departures. The drivers are ill-tempered. The passengers are frustrated and lost.
Studying the signs on the various buses lined up and waiting at Footscray station, I opted for one that said it was stopping all stations to a station far down the line and then was express after that. As I boarded, I stated my station to the usher who was supervising all comings and goings. He looked alarmed and said no. This bus was express from where we were standing. I pointed out the sign to him. He agreed it was confusing. I disagreed that it was confusing and said that it was just plain wrong. He considered this. He came back five minutes later and told me he agreed with me about the sign. He made no move to correct it. I imagined lost people at the mercy of ill-tempered bus drivers on the expressway to some outer suburb they'd heard of only because it was the end of the line.
This conversation was peppered by a hard-faced woman and the ferret featured man accompanying her making accusations of abuse against one of the ill-tempered bus drivers. I had heard the ill-tempered bus driver in question speak to her and thought he had a "tone" that went with being ill-tempered, but I didn't think he was abusive. I considered her as ferret features tried to pull her away. They had the look of people strung out for their next hit. People probably steered clear most of the time, so I could understand why she would assert herself by then yelling at the line of large men wearing bright orange vests announcing that they belonged, somehow, to Metro trains.
My ill-tempered bus driver shook his head and put out his cigarette. He hoisted himself into the driver's seat and flung the bus into gear, driving wildly through the narrow back streets of Yarraville, straddling tiny roundabouts and riding the kerb. Several signs and markers were lying flattened on this route and I wondered if the streets would ever recover from this episode of track work.
As I left the bus, I heard the driver's response to questions from people about whether this was the bus to the city. "No," he said in a tone that made it a four syllable word. "City's on the other side," and "side" took on the rising scale of frustration. He may as well have just called them idiots and been done with it.
One last stop before heading home and I was confronted with Christmas music playing through a radio turned up too loud and hidden behind a cheap tinsel Christmas tree. The fact that Santa Claus is coming to town sounded like a menacing threat, rather than happy news.
And there are still four more weeks.
Why then, did I think a visit to Federation Square's Mark It would be a good idea?
In the Atrium and BMW Edge, at least it was safe from the unpredictable spring weather. Most of Melbourne was crowded into this space and most of Melbourne had missed its manners today. From the glimpses I caught over dandruff sprinkled shoulders and through the crook of elbows and past enormous ears, there appeared to be some very fine wares for sale. How one made a purchase was not clear to me. As soon as I thought I would be able to make it to the front and have an unimpeded view, a woman with an enormous bag or boobs would shoulder charge to the front.
I didn't get to fondle and I didn't get to see. I didn't get to smell and I didn't get to dangle. So not a single purchase was made. At one point a woman behind me commented that she wanted to get the business card of a particular stall so I snaked my hand through and gave her a bundle. She asked me if I worked there and I replied that I just felt her pain.
Shoppers' faces were frowning. The smell of anxiety hung heavy.
As I stood locked in by people and bags on all sides a moment of catastrophe came into mind. What would happen if there was a fire? I would surely die. We would surely die. Except those people with the giant bags and boobs who seemed to be able to get to wherever they were going.
I think my consideration of other people is what works against me in this setting. I don't say this to sound like some kind of angel - I'm not - but rather I work with awareness of people around me. I think that everyone else does too. This is not true.
I returned home empty handed and had also endured the bus replacement service. No trains are running on my line today because of track work. This will lead to improvements at some unspecified future time. At this current time, it's a gigantic pain. The buses are unpredictable in their arrivals and departures. The drivers are ill-tempered. The passengers are frustrated and lost.
Studying the signs on the various buses lined up and waiting at Footscray station, I opted for one that said it was stopping all stations to a station far down the line and then was express after that. As I boarded, I stated my station to the usher who was supervising all comings and goings. He looked alarmed and said no. This bus was express from where we were standing. I pointed out the sign to him. He agreed it was confusing. I disagreed that it was confusing and said that it was just plain wrong. He considered this. He came back five minutes later and told me he agreed with me about the sign. He made no move to correct it. I imagined lost people at the mercy of ill-tempered bus drivers on the expressway to some outer suburb they'd heard of only because it was the end of the line.
This conversation was peppered by a hard-faced woman and the ferret featured man accompanying her making accusations of abuse against one of the ill-tempered bus drivers. I had heard the ill-tempered bus driver in question speak to her and thought he had a "tone" that went with being ill-tempered, but I didn't think he was abusive. I considered her as ferret features tried to pull her away. They had the look of people strung out for their next hit. People probably steered clear most of the time, so I could understand why she would assert herself by then yelling at the line of large men wearing bright orange vests announcing that they belonged, somehow, to Metro trains.
My ill-tempered bus driver shook his head and put out his cigarette. He hoisted himself into the driver's seat and flung the bus into gear, driving wildly through the narrow back streets of Yarraville, straddling tiny roundabouts and riding the kerb. Several signs and markers were lying flattened on this route and I wondered if the streets would ever recover from this episode of track work.
As I left the bus, I heard the driver's response to questions from people about whether this was the bus to the city. "No," he said in a tone that made it a four syllable word. "City's on the other side," and "side" took on the rising scale of frustration. He may as well have just called them idiots and been done with it.
One last stop before heading home and I was confronted with Christmas music playing through a radio turned up too loud and hidden behind a cheap tinsel Christmas tree. The fact that Santa Claus is coming to town sounded like a menacing threat, rather than happy news.
And there are still four more weeks.
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