218 Liquid Gold

I like retail websites that easily allow you to return goods you’ve ordered and refund the cost of those purchases.  This happened to me when I returned a pair of shoes to Skechers.  

They were advertised as “slip-ins” and certainly would have been for virtually everyone but me.  I couldn’t just slip into them because of the three screws I have in my left ankle that prevent me from flexing my ankle like other people.

Within two days of their return, the full purchase price was back in my bank account.

A week ago, Caroline was grateful for the returns policy of a company that sells olive oil online for absurdly high prices.  The company justify the ridiculous price on the grounds that it is organic, small batch, ethically sourced and direct from the farmers.  It is a niche “luxury” olive oil and is “obtainable from Harrods”.  

The olives that produce the oil come from Koroneiki olive trees and we all know how wonderful the Koroneiki tree is. With global warming upon us, perhaps it would be a wise investment to get hold of a few Koroneiki olive trees and plant them in the garden. 

The 500ml bottle cost £70 and Caroline bought it as a birthday present for her sister.  Although that is a ludicrous price, the most expensive oil they advertise is £499 for a 250ml bottle - £1,996 a litre.  That’s even more expensive than diesel!  They do offer free delivery though.

Research I’ve done into this oil, reveals that the retail markup is enormous compared with what the farmers/producers were actually paid for the oil,  A large part of the price is for packaging and luxury appeal - and for mugs like my wife.

The oil is so luxurious that consumers, or fools as I call them, are advised not to use it in any form of cooking.  It should be served untainted as, for example, a dressing on salad or as a dip for fresh, crusty bread and also, on dark chocolate mousse.

When the oil arrived, there was an obvious problem and Caroline wrote to Customer Services:

I recently purchased a bottle of olive oil from your website.  When it arrived, although the outside packaging was completely intact, the inside box containing the bottle was damaged. This was very disappointing as I bought it as a gift. 

It appears that you have selected a damaged product to send when fulfilling my order.

The company replied:

Hi Caroline,

Thanks so much for reaching out about your recent order. I'm really sorry.  Receiving a damaged order is always frustrating but especially when it's meant as a gift for someone special. That's really not the experience we want for our customers.  I have arranged a replacement to be sent out to you right away. 

We're sorry again for the stress this has caused, and we really appreciate your patience with this. Please don't hesitate to reach out if there's anything else I can do.

Best wishes,

Scout

What is all this “reaching out” nonsense?  Why has the word “contact” fallen into disuse?

“We are going to get a free bottle of luxury olive oil,” Caroline told me, excitedly.  “We’ll have salad every day for a month.”

This morning, the doorbell rang.  It was the postman and he was holding a large, flat cardboard package about 60cm x 40cm.  It was about a centimetre thick and much too big to pass through our letterbox.

I opened it, wondering what on earth it could be as I had never received a package that looked anything like that before.

It was, as promised, the replacement from the olive oil company.

No oil.  Just new, flawless, pristine packaging.  

Oh well, it’s ham, egg and chips this evening.  The salad will have to wait and perhaps I’ll try dripping tomato sauce on the chocolate mousse I’ve made.

 

217 Who, What, When, Where, Why ?????

It’s been four months since my last post and I thought I’d finally run out of ideas but then, as has often been the case, Caroline said something that produced a deluge of thoughts and ideas.

 

If someone asks you, “What is the capital city of France?”, you can answer straight away.  You answer, “Paris,” in the confident knowledge that you had supplied all the information they needed.

Some questions, however, need at least one preliminary response before a definite and accurate answer may be given.  

“Where did you leave the book?” would probably need at least one query (“Which book?”) before a precise response could be given.  

There are questions that have to be answered immediately.  Any delayed response that seeks clarification, could result in the questioner becoming offended or upset.  

“Do you like my hair?” is a query that in theory, has two or three possible answers but in reality, there is only one answer that can be given and that answer is an immediate, “YES!” 

Some questions are so vague that an immediate answer is impossible.  I was thinking about this a week ago when a question was asked by a woman on a closed Facebook group of which I’m a member.

“Where’s a good place to get a MOT?”

I could think of a number of questions I would need to ask before giving an informed answer but I wrote nothing because, very soon, 11 people had named about 20 places.  

I couldn’t see how they were any help to the questioner whatsoever.  She could have discovered them and many others by using Google.  Also, the places recommended were in an area of about 200 square miles and so some of them must be much further from her than others.

That thought obviously occurred to another member who wrote: 

“This is a strange question.  MOTs are objective assessments. There can be no leeway given and so no place is better or worse than any other. 

If any business gets a reputation for passing vehicles that would fail on other places, that business would lose its MOT licence.  

If, what you are actually asking is,  “Where can I take my car for a MOT where they will pass it even if there are faults with it?” you should delete it now for the safety of all road users.”

Her reply didn’t answer his point in any way:

“I'm not asking for a MOT place where they will pass it just like that.  I have grandkids in the car.  Safety is my first thing.”

He came back with: “So, what was the point of your question? Go to the one closest to you.”

From that point the “Lady” who had asked the question became vitriolic and her comments were abusive and liberally scattered with obscenities which, for some reason, the group administrator allowed to pass.

There is at least one question that is often answered with some degree of a lie and that is when someone asks, “How are you?”  I and almost everyone answers with some variation of, “Fine thanks,” but sometimes, that isn’t the case.  However, it would be crass and tiresome to answer by telling them exactly how you really are feeling.

I’ve been trying to think of a question that someone might ask me that would necessitate me asking the greatest number of follow-ups before I could give a reliable answer.  

Recently, as I was walking out of a shop in Milton Keynes Centre, a woman asked me where the nearest bus stop was.  Of course, I had to ask her where she wanted to go before I could help but because of that, I think that question scores very highly on the Vague Scale.  

“Can you tell me where there’s a bus stop please?”

The elucidatory question that would have to be asked is, “Where are you going to?”

Follow up questions could be:

1               How far are you able to walk to reach it?

2               Would you prefer a covered, sheltered bus stop?

Caroline and I drove into the local Garden Centre car park recently.  I thought we were there just to visit the Food Hall but it immediately became apparent that Caroline thought we were there to collect bags of compost that she had ordered.  

The place was very busy and there were more than 150 cars in the car park.  Caroline asked me a question that scored so highly on the Vague Scale that it broke it. 

“Will you get behind that car in the compost collection queue, please?”

“Where’s that?”

“That car in the queue.  Get behind it.”

“Which car?”

“That one.”

“Which one? There are loads of them.”

“The silver one.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“The one going up a slight slope.”

“What!!!!!”

Eventually, by pointing her finger (and raising her voice somewhat), she was able to direct me to the collection point.

What she could have said was, “I need to collect some compost I’ve ordered.  Keep driving slowly and I’ll direct you to the collection point.”

But then, this post would never have appeared.

216 Festive Essentials

It all started about six months ago.  

I was at Waitrose, buying some stuff to bide us over the next day or so and as I always do, used a trolley to put that stuff into.  A person - and as you will see in a moment - that person was almost certainly a woman, had left her shopping list in the trolley that I used.  

I looked at it and saw that there was a roll of everyday products written on it from potatoes to All Bran but it was the items at the bottom of the list that grabbed my attention.  They were “knicker stickers” and “fanny goo”.  I am not certain what that is but I have an idea.

Since then, whenever I see a discarded shopping list that has been left in, or is attached to a trolley, I  study it in the hope of gaining deeper insight into what sort of life a Waitrose person has.

It would be interesting to compare lists compiled by Waitrose shoppers with those who use Aldi and Lidl.  I wonder how many Aldi shoppers have ever put “zhoug” on their shopping list.  When I saw it, I had no idea what it is and had to look it up when I got home.  I had to do the same for “amchoor” some weeks later.

I expect you already know that amchoor is dried mango powder and zhoug is a hot spicy sauce made from coriander leaves.  I had never heard of either until I saw them adorning lists on the bottom of empty Waitrose trolleys.  Maybe I’m not really a Waitrose person.

I hope that the person who had written “shower head” on their list had been to a branch of Wickes or a specialist bathroom store before visiting Waitrose because shower heads are not sold at Waitrose.

When I went to Waitrose for the first time after Christmas, I realised that people were already preparing for their New Year celebrations.  The trolley I used had a discarded shopping list nestling within its metal grid structure and getting soaked from the constant drizzle.  The shopper hadn’t wanted much as the list was just four lines:

                                                      red wine   

                                                      white wine

                                                      bubbly wine

                                                      paracetamol

Now, that’s a real Waitrose person.