Make Mine... Service with a smile?!

It’s Monday, well, actually it’s Tuesday but for the reference of this post, which I wrote late last night (whilst again indulging in The West Wing – it’s an addiction!) it's Monday. Which means it’s a trip to the sandwich shop for those of us still indulging in carbs... it actually has more to do with the fact that Jo’s in the office than the sudden need to have an intake of bread!

We normally drag ourselves round to the homogenous atmosphere of a prêt two seconds away (especially if drizzly!) or to the slightly further away, but normally queue out of the door Make Mine on Wardour Street. Today was a Make Mine day and we were met with the normal crazed sandwich hunters all huffing and tutting and queuing to get an overpriced treat that will taste great for a while but will inevitably be a thing of the past in an hour - imagine a new 3 double ‘g’ all singing all dancing iphone being sold from a small corner shop in Soho where there are less geeks with bad breath and NHS glasses and more ‘trendy’ Soho-ites with skinny jeans and, well... NHS glasses actually.

Anyway, we battled through, placed our orders and then came the bit which essentially drives us to this particular outlet every week... the concisely self-titled, ‘make your name up bit’. You see, every week we have the childish tendency of lying to a young girl in a sandwich shop by NOT telling her our real names – Ta Da! Then we stand there awaiting our sarnie in fear of missing our names when they’re called out because we’re not used to being called ‘Dennis’ or ‘Sandie’ or Donatello – I was feeling especially hilarious one day, how we laughed!

However, it is this kind of getting to know the customer loveliness that is lacking, isn’t it? Both Sadie and Jo have recently jetted back and forth across the globe, between them catching twelve or thirteen flights. Don’t panic!! They’ve assured me they’ll be spending the rest of the week working out how to rid future generations of the newly created carbon footprint caused by over indulgent flights – planting a tree, buying a Prius or simply looking at people at the checkout in a condescending way when they don’t reuse their plastic bags! I digress, on their return they of course did the shop talk, where they’d been, bought and quite what they indulged in.
However, they also both remarked on the apparent lack of customer service in the UK. They enthused in Australia’s level of advice, the US’s approach to customer attention. In one instance the sales assistant enquired about their name, which was then duely called out over the cubicle and even scribed on a white board on the changing room door for future (slightly unnerving) reference. They loved the suggestions and lapped up the attention which was adorned on them with hanger in hand. But generally the staff were being over friendly, something certainly glared at in London and throughout England, as far as I aware.

So was it just the holiday gaze that took hold of the girlies. The everything’s new and exciting gaze where everything appears rosier and the grass greener, or is it that the over enthusiastic and highly attentive service of those supervisors, sales assistants and people in general from over the pond and beyond have got what London is missing – service with a smile, and apparently much more?!

I thought about this... and well, maybe but we just don’t want it. We like to grumble and don’t like to be smothered! Plus, and this might just be me, but don’t we want to poke fun at this approach to friendly-friendly shopping experience and not return the false niceties of an American store or an Australian fashion house. Admittedly, my name’s not Dennis it’s Paul, so why do I want to be childish about it. What if they decided to be childish their end of the deal and greet me with a whining why? Whhy? Whhhy? to every aspect of my order, would I find that funny?! I think not. But it should be, or could be harmless fun but actually I’m helping, along with Jo may I add to the lack of service in shops throughout London. The thing is I’m not going to stop. I’m childish and enjoy the self indulgent carb binge nearly as much as the mockery of the un-English, over-friendly, personalized (with a ‘Z’) system at the sandwich shop! So here’s to great sandwiches, taking the piss and service without a smile.