Located in a small Pennsylvania village, our bakery is situated in an old, quaint building reminiscent of a Bavarian pastry shop. We know our patrons by name and whether or not they get a New York Times with their Sunday order. And we're friendly. Even on the most trying of days we make an honest effort to be, at the very least, cordial to even the most demanding customers.
We are situated across the street from a busy tourist-oriented concern, the owners of which are truly the nicest people, always willing to lend a hand.
Their customers are another story. Braving the two-lane highway traffic to come over to our shop and gawk, it's as though they all attended the same training seminar on how not to buy something. There is the verbal sale: oh you have the nicest shop I want one of everything it smells so good in here. The scrutiny no sale: look at every item on display, then ask for something not seen and highly unlikely to be available, say, some ghastly Pennsylvania Dutch specialty or other, then smile and say something about next time. Then there is the body language group. They refuse to acknowledge your greeting, studiously avoid eye contact, and generally hunch their shoulders in a defensive posture. We are sanguine about all this, although at times we'd like to dig a trench and fill it with burning oil in order to keep them on the other side of the street.
One afternoon a couple came in from Over There, avoided eye contact, ignored my greeting. As they were facing the door to go, I thanked them for stopping in. The woman turned and actually snarled at me. An angry, resentful, toothy grunt.
From somewhere deep within the recesses of my soul came the words, "Get the @#!% outta my shop!"
No sooner was the "!" out of my mouth than panic struck. Not due to the fact that feelings may have been bruised or that I had committed some unforgivable business faux pas, but that this guy was going to come behind the counter and punch me in the head.
They scuttled out the door.
We are situated across the street from a busy tourist-oriented concern, the owners of which are truly the nicest people, always willing to lend a hand.
Their customers are another story. Braving the two-lane highway traffic to come over to our shop and gawk, it's as though they all attended the same training seminar on how not to buy something. There is the verbal sale: oh you have the nicest shop I want one of everything it smells so good in here. The scrutiny no sale: look at every item on display, then ask for something not seen and highly unlikely to be available, say, some ghastly Pennsylvania Dutch specialty or other, then smile and say something about next time. Then there is the body language group. They refuse to acknowledge your greeting, studiously avoid eye contact, and generally hunch their shoulders in a defensive posture. We are sanguine about all this, although at times we'd like to dig a trench and fill it with burning oil in order to keep them on the other side of the street.
One afternoon a couple came in from Over There, avoided eye contact, ignored my greeting. As they were facing the door to go, I thanked them for stopping in. The woman turned and actually snarled at me. An angry, resentful, toothy grunt.
From somewhere deep within the recesses of my soul came the words, "Get the @#!% outta my shop!"
No sooner was the "!" out of my mouth than panic struck. Not due to the fact that feelings may have been bruised or that I had committed some unforgivable business faux pas, but that this guy was going to come behind the counter and punch me in the head.
They scuttled out the door.
1 comment:
Sounds like you love people... I'd help ya dig that trench but my back is no good these days. Keep spreading the love... check out my blog here....
http://www.myspace.com/Poconophotoman
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