Thumbs Up For Scotland
I was almost got into a punch-up with a supermarket manager two weeks ago, but I've decided not to make a fuss. I've decided, in fact, to stop myself becoming one of those Victor Meldrew characters who write pompous letters of complaint to big organisations. A pity, really, because I was getting quite good at it. Instead, I want to start a Campaign for a Positive Scotland.
The supermarket incident - to get this out of the way - involved me trying to return a £25 own-brand MP3/Video player that I'd bought on impulse. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how to download video content and neither the printed instructions nor the onboard manual were of much help. So I took it back to the store and explained my problem.
"I don't think it's broken, "I told them, truthfully, "but it's not very user-friendly...and the quality of the still-images on the screen is pretty poor. Does that qualify for a refund?"
The girl behind the customer services counter called for her superior and he arrived with the air of a man who has just about had it up to here with time-wasters and chancers. I repeated my story, but he wasn't really listening. In fact he spotted a friend coming through the door and started talking to him instead. When I finally regained his attention he told me that he couldn't refund my money because the item in question wasn't faulty, the packaging had been opened and, besides, they didn't make it.
This is when it all became silly. I borrowed a pen and piece of paper from the counter to write down these reasons and make a note of his name. At first he put a thumb where I was trying to write and then he just grabbed the pen out of my hand and crumpled the paper into a ball. He did this with such suddenness that other customers stopped to see what was happening. Fight, fight, fight!
I just smiled, left the store, got into my car and phoned the helpline number on my receipt. The chap on the phone was great. He listened to my problem and offered me a refund right away. He gave me a reference code which I had to take back into the supermarket to ensure I got my money back. The pen-grabbing manager was not pleased, but he finally shrugged and told the girl behind the counter to give me my cash.
So, when I tell people this story they say I should write a letter of complaint to Head Office, but I'm not going to. The manager obviously has some people-skill problems but I wouldn't want him to lose his job.
Besides, as one who regularly has to respond to letters of complaint, I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of someone's anger or frustration. I'm also getting weary of this general climate of "everything's rubbish" that we seem to have developed in Scotland.
This week alone it has been suggested to me - either in letters, e-mails or calls - that we abolish or ban the Ö÷²¥´óÐã Scottish Symphony Orchestra, Scottish Ballet, all artists, Robert Burns, politicians, Gaelic broadcasting, social workers, all religions, all church buildings, arts coverage, drama, the Edinburgh Festival, Glaswegians... and that's just this week.
Give it a month and all we'll have left is home-made tablet and Selkirk bannocks.
Yet there are a few shining beacons of hope, positivity and encouragement. Recently I met a chap called Kenny Muir. He's a native-born Scot but has spent a great many years working in India.
He's now one of this year's bona fide Ö÷²¥´óÐã-comers and, speaking to him last week, I was just swept away with his can-do attitude and his capacity to see the good in people and things around him. I saw him again last night. He was in that supermarket, buying about twenty massive leeks and telling an enthralled checkout girl about his recipe for gourmet soup.
I'm hoping he'll be a guest on our Highland Café programme soon.
So here's to Kenny...and here's to that bloke on the helpline too.
My campaign starts here.
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