I couldn’t help but admire the enthusiasm of the check-out lady at the DIY-style store I dashed into.
Her bubbly nature won over the people in front of me buying a microwave and they readily agreed to one of those extra insurance things in case it broke down in the next three years.
Personally, I would have expected it to work a damn sight longer than that, but the sales pitch was seemingly effortless and had the desired result very swiftly and the couple left apparently pleased with both purchase and £10 extra insurance safety net.
All I’d popped in for was a £1.99 light switch, the first time I’d ever stepped inside this particular emporium, and wasn’t quite expecting the same kind of effusive sales patter for my meagre purchase.
But before I knew it, I was asked if I’d got some kind of store card and when I blankly answered ‘no’ I was offered the chance to have one there and then in what was a tad-over-enthusiastic manner that immediately pulls down the shutters in my shopping brain.
I’ve often thought that if the world of commerce had to rely on people like me, there would be precious little buying and selling done, so anathema is it to my persona.
I might have been a little too unedifying for the poor sales lady by pretending not to know what on earth she was on about, and her spirits seemed to take a bit of a dive as she explained in a bit of a deflated manner that the card was a points system which would accumulate etc etc.
I didn’t think I’d rack up too many points spending just short of £2 every 50 years or so in her store, so I declined her kind offer and let the next in the queue be charmed by her enthusiasm.
But come to think of it, it was quite a pleasant store, within easy reach of home and perhaps could come in useful again sometime before the next 50 years is up.
The light switch worked fine, too.