Wednesday, November 24, 2004

What Kind of a Country is This?

Okay, we may have won the war and have had our own way of running the country for over two hundred years, but I mean really, what is the big deal? Has nobody in this country heard of customer service? I asked for change at the hotel the other day and was told that I could get it at the news agent’s in the train station a half-a-mile away. I went to a store last night to buy an umbrella (an item that, if I own one, I do not know the whereabouts of.) only to be told rudely at the first store that I went to that they were closing in five minutes and “no, you can’t come in an purchase just that one item you need, thank you very much, but call again tomorrow.”

I went down to another store a block away and they were bound to close in a few minutes but I slipped in, got my umbrella and popped out in two minutes. Taking the public transport was a trip… in both senses of the word. The customs apparently call for more than just standing at a bus stop and waiting for the bus. Apparently you have to flag him down. (In the places I am used to public transport, you need to wave them off if you do not want to take the bus that is approaching.)

But this morning was the culmination of the process that convinced me that there is something just not quite right with Great Brittain. Or at least, with this section of it. I can live with the fact that the shops close early, I can live with the fact that some of the so-called “Breakfast” places do not open until 10:00. What I am having a hard time with is knowing how I am expected to know the local customs. On the way in, unable to find the local bakery for a quick roll or something for breakfast, I popped into a greengrocers to buy an apple and a grapefruit to snack on for breakfast. The door was open, the lights were on, there were all the indications that the store was open so I walked in and made my selection. I could not understand the lukewarm treatment I was receiving from the greengrocer, then. It was not until I left and he pointedly closed the door behind me that I decided he must have, in fact, been closed and that somehow I was supposed to have known this. He did know I was from the states because he commented on my accent and when I was selecting the grapefruit (having asked it was Florida grown) he asked if the sniffing, scratching and study was how people picked their citrus in Florida.

It wasn’t until I was relating the story to my coworkers later today that I discovered the other reason for the greengrocer’s response to my patronage. Apparently not only had I barged in before he was actually open, in this area of the world you do not select your own fruit. You tell the grocer what you want and you get handed it. You have no say in what he hands you. I have decided I will not be buying a lot of fruit at the greengrocer. I will find a proper store.

I had lunch today at the pub up the road from here. It’s really quite a nice place. One of my coworkers and I strolled down to have lunch and discuss the project. I do not know what prompted it (because I do not tend to actively eavesdrop) but the two women at the next table were discussing politics when we came in. They are going to have an election soon and discussions have started on who is likely to be ousted from the parliament. A while after we had sat down, I distinctly heard one of the women say that Bush was a wanker. Apparently I am going to hear that almost every day I am here.

Oh well. I guess I had best post this and get off to the hotel. I have some writing (for business, alas not for pleasure)to do before I retire for the evening and want to get on with it.

Until tomorrow, have a great day! (More pictures soon – I promise!)

Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 24 November, 2004

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