The weather’s been nice, which has been good for my covid-recovery – plenty of fresh air and sun. On one occasion, I took a spontaneous trip to admire the carpet of bluebells under the trees at Mount Edgcumbe. I hopped on the ferry, intending to get a pasty for lunch at the café on the other side of the river, before walking a couple of miles in a circle back to the jetty. So, I was pretty disappointed to find that the café was closed. However, I was amused by the notice on the door. It read that Keith and Emma were sorry to have to close, but covid had hit their household and they thought it the best thing to do under the circumstances. However, they hoped to be open by Thursday or, failing that, by the weekend, since they knew some very nice people (Janet and Dawn) who had worked for them previously and who might be available to open up even if they themselves remained indisposed. They apologised for the inconvenience and hoped to see us soon.
Some of this information was superfluous, strictly speaking, but the message was very effective: “this is not a slick, chain operation, but a family business and we care about our customers and their expectations and are doing our best to fulfil them.” Imagine if they had simply put up the “Closed” sign and left it at that. I would never again have had confidence in obtaining a timely pasty there. Their personal messaging is in stark contrast to that of the local council when, on occasion, I have anticipated with some urgency the availability of a public toilet only to find an “out of order” notice stuck to the door, with no advice on where else to go, no information on when they intend to fix the problem and no hint of apology. This type of sign comes under the ‘Unhelpful’ category. It also comes under the ‘Useless’ category, since locking the door sends exactly the same message as the notice. Furthermore, it comes under the category of ‘Annoying’, especially as one is likely to be ill-humoured at this point.
There is such a thing, however, as an amusing sign. I particularly liked the one posted outside a polling station that reads “No Sitting on the Fence”, though this is unintentionally funny – unlike the one that sits atop the piano in a pub I used to frequent, which says “If you can’t play the piano, please don’t”. Amusing signs help to counter the ones that can only be called mean-spirited, such as the one famously noted by Bill Bryson and typically found at the entrances to private drives. It says, “No Turning”, Bill’s response to which is to make a point of turning there and, as he departs, tooting his horn.
Then there are signs that are simply unwelcoming. There is a local place that specialises in making cakes and, though I have no appetite for such confections, I sometimes go there to buy bread and drink coffee on their little terrace. The only thing is, you have to be careful not to break any of the house rules, which are spelled out on little notices posted everywhere you look – one person at a time at the counter; wear a mask; card payment only; tables not to be used for consuming takeaway food; and no smoking on the terrace – all of which are backed up with the implicit threat of enforcement by the woman in charge, who has the kind of smile that is worn reluctantly and only when customer-facing. The last time I went, I was careful to observe all the procedures and, in order to ingratiate myself into their good books, even took my empty cup back to the counter (which may have been against the rules, come to think of it) but the woman in charge was busy making cakes and didn’t see me. I saw her though, dipping a finger into the mix and licking it. Surely, I thought, there must be a notice in the kitchen forbidding such behaviour?
No comments:
Post a Comment