People's dignity: cheaper by the day, it seems.

So there I was, in the queue at a shop in Cambridge to buy a pair of shoes, as you do, and I can see him at the end. He's wearing the kind of cringe-worthy blazer that someone dons when they've just proudly bought a boat, and insist on calling everyone "skipper". He had a straw-woven hat that matched the awful ensemble that he was sporting, and had a John Thompson-esque goatee. His wife was next to him, with that "sun-kissed" skin that could only remind me of a ten year old sofa. I don't like making snap judgements about people I've never met, but I couldn't shift the belief that these two are the kind of folks who are full to the brim of their own pompous opinions, and take great enjoyment in broadcasting them to everyone.



Anyway, as we're working our way through the queue to buy my lovely new Converse, I try to rubberneck in on their discussion with the managers. Do you ever find yourself doing that: standing near an argument and putting in a tiny amount of effort to look like you're busy, when actually you're trying to listen in? I do it all the time; it's like watching Jerry Springer live, especially if they're the kind of people who look like they've escaped from the holding pen for the Jeremy Kyle show. Back to the argument, there seemed to be a disagreement between something the lady bought, who was trying to get a refund, and what the managers were saying. Now, I have no idea what it was, or what the supposed reason for the refund was, but the two of them were being so comically over-the-top that I was waiting for someone to jump out in a Dame costume and go "it's behind you"! There was lots of pointing, shouting, and when the woman tried to snatch the receipt from the manager's hand and had to be held back, the guy in the capt'n jacket decided the best thing to do was to call the Police to report an assault! Don't forget, that's your tax money that he was wasting there.

Now, it all ended with her in an embarrassing flood of tears, slumped on the shop floor, while literally everyone around stood watching, and quietly laughing. Then, the husband said my favourite sentence of the day: "c'mon, you earn £200,000 a year, why are you quibbling over £11"? Her response was that "it was the principle". Now, I can understand why you'd go out of your way if you feel that making a point is worth more than the refund here, especially if you're earning a healthy wage as she was, but let's look at this another way: they wasted Police time and taxpayers money, they wasted an hour of their time, they had dozens of strangers standing around watching them and laughing, and she ended up sat on the floor in an embarrassing state, crying like a child who's been deprived of a toy... all for £11? Sorry, but that's a pretty low price to put on your dignity.

Now I don't see this kind of hilariously cringe worthy behaviour very often, but I used to work in retail, and this would happen a fair bit more than you realise. Why do people take something small and blow it up to such an extreme level that it only serves to make people wonder if you're either nuts or Charlie Sheen. Sometimes, credit card companies will run a spot-check that requires you to call them and verify the person using it. This only happened once a month or so, so the chances of being the person who has to go through this is very small. However, that one lady who just stood there, huffing and puffing about this huge injustice I'll remember for a while. Nor will I forget her departing line, after we explained why this happened and it's just a random one-off, of "well if this is going to happen every time I shop then I just won't come back in here". What was she expecting us to say? Sorry? Offer her free gifts? No, instead as she stropped out of the door like a teenager, we just said "bye". Nor will I forget the massive woman who asked if we did size XXL t-shirts. Now, this lady was HUGE, as if light bended around her own gravity, so I think even an XXL would be wishful thinking. Suffice to say, we didn't. She screamed (literally) at me "WELL YOU LOST OUT ON SOME BUSINESS, AIN'T CHA"! I was earning minimum wage, what was I going to do, go make one for her? As she waddled out of the store, I merely shrugged and got on with my life.

I genuinely don't understand the need of some people to feel like they have to make a big scene these days. But, whatever the reason is, it explains how shows such as Jeremy Kyle et al survive. When family X have a problem, they could take it to a mediator, but that means that some unemployed bloke from Doncaster will miss out on watching the fact that Mr X's wife has been having an affair with the postman's hairdresser's milkman's dog. It also explains the frankly baffling "embarrassing bodies" series. Quite why one would be so embarrassed about a condition that they cannot even tell their GP, instead telling a strange GP, and the nation, about their ailment. I mean, it's not ever going to end well, is it, like it was for the guy who was worried about a strange smell he seemed to be emitting. After a quick (on-camera) check, it was revealed that he wasn't, shall we say, wiping enough. You get the picture, but can you imagine what his colleagues at work will call him behind his back? Can you imagine inviting him to a pool party? I wouldn't!

So the key to solving these kind of issues we all get, even when there's a principle at stake, is to make a big point in a dignified way. Don't scream and shout, and don't make a big dramatic scene. Quite simply, you won't win, and people will laugh at you.

And you'll probably be remembered not for your point, but for something irrelevant, like a truly horrific blazer. Trust me, you had to see it!

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