Customers can't speak with their mouths full

The experience of shopping in PC World is one that makes my teeth itch. Often, when I go in to this store, it's because I need to buy a printer cartridge and then I'll take a little stroll, daydreaming about 3D televisions and over-sized laptops that I do really want but don't really need and definitely can't afford.

It should be a pleasant enough waste of twenty minutes as I go from picking up my cartridge to paying the arm-and-a-leg for it at the exit, but it rarely is. So often, when wandering through a Dixons Stores Group outlet, I'm accosted by a sales person desperate to see if they can turn my £30 printer cartridge purchase in to a £4,000 multimedia extravaganza.

I don't mind this. I understand the need to sell products, obviously, and I remember from my days as a retail manager the need to ensure that every product is sold with a warranty, and I don't mind politely having to say "no thank you, I've got my cartridge and am now just having a browse".

The problem is, it isn't just one youth that'll bother me from entrance to exit, but three, four or, as with last week's visit, five. By the time I leave the store I'm aggravated and ready to snap at my children and I promise myself faithfully that when I finally decide I can't live without a new vacuum cleaner I will move heaven and earth to ensure that I don't buy it from that shop.

Obviously, we live in a world where customer service is at a premium, and shop floor assistants are paid commission to make sure they don't just lurk in corners picking their spots and talking about last night's football game with their colleagues. And to back this up, retailers employ the services of mystery shoppers; people who are paid to go out and buy something before reporting back to the bosses on their experience.

The same thing happens in the pub world, and I often read the mystery reports that Greene King do on my pub with pride. Scores are regularly in the ninety plus percents, which gives me a little flush of excitement, and I go and slap the barmaids on the back in a jolly boy fashion before using the figures to barter with my BDM over giving me some free beer because we're doing so bally well.

So imagine my shock this week when the latest mystery report came through and my score had fallen to just 75.4% - accompanied by a little amber light.

I hurriedly read through the report, seeking out the name of the member of staff who had served this mystery customer and planning a public flogging to make sure such disgusting service never happens again (while desperately hoping it wouldn't be my name printed on the report).

But, to my horror, the member of staff involved was one who usually scores so well in such situations and who is loved by customers, regular and passing through. So I went back and read the report again, and felt happy in the knowledge that the customer seemed genuinely pleased with their visit to my establishment.

In fact, it was only when I realised that I'd been given a score of zero on one section because cutlery wasn't brought to the table (because, as the reporter pointed out, it was already on the table) and the member of staff hadn't checked on them during their meal, that the twenty percent drop in my score had occurred; a harsh penalty, then, given that everything else was top notch.

But then, on line 44, a comment really caught my attention: What part of your visit experience was so great it would make you come back again?​ To which the visitor replied: "Being able to eat without being pestered by team members trying to make extra sales..."

So the very part of the score sheet that damaged my usually meritorious rating was equally the very part of the visit that meant this particular member of the public would want to come back to my pub again.

My wife, who is a huge fan of those dreary reality TV programmes, told me that recently The Restaurant Inspector said that you should never interrupt a customer who is eating, and I agree. One of the worst dining experiences I ever had was in a local Indian restaurant, during which the owner might just as well have joined my wife and I at the table, so frequently did he keep checking up on us.

So while I should give my barmaid a thrashing for not asking if the customers wanted coffee when she collected their plates, it's worth remembering that the last thing that customers want us to do while they've got a mouth full of jacket potato is to wander over and ask them if everything is okay.

You can bet your bottom dollar they'd already have let you know if the meal was cold.

And PC World staff would do well to remember that when I go in for a printer cartridge, that's all I'm likely to walk out with, too. When I'm looking at the televisions, all I'm doing is dreaming.