A smartly dressed, well spoken couple in their mid- sixties enter my shop.
Me: Hi, can I help?
Woman: Where’s Brown’s?
Me: As in the restaurant?
Me: *I throw her some stank eye but proceed politely* Umm the only one I know of in the West End is the one down on St Martin’s Lane —
Woman: So just tell me where it is then!
Me: *A beat as I size her cooly* If you’d let me finish, I was about to tell you. Carry on straight down for about a minute, and it’s the road behind the Wyndhams Theatre on your left hand side.
*She turns to leave*
Me: And you’re very welcome, have a lovely day.
Husband: *Stood sheepishly* Thank you, you’re very kind.
Sometimes you can blame people’s shortness or lack of niceties on a language barrier, but when people are first language English and behave like this it makes me irate. I have never in my life been that needlessly rude to someone serving me. Even if I’m having a bit of a shit one, “please” and “thank you” just takes no time at all. I hope someone blows semen in her soup.