Bavarian princess endures the British way of life

Travelling the world and experience cultural diversity has always been my biggest dream – I fantasized about eating grilled cricket in India, sleeping under a starry sky in the Sahara Desert or climbing Kilimandscharo in Africa. When in the end my journey took me only as far as Sheffield, you can imagine my disappointment.
But to be honest, after living three months in this small city of South-East Britain, I realized that you don’t have to go far away to have exotic encounters …


Cheers Love - Why the sales lady at Argos is not my buddy anymore

Embracing the British way of life in its complete glory, I went down to my local Argos store the other day to get a telephone. I had moved in my apartment already a couple of days ago and talking to my family over the cell phone had become too expensive.

Because the whole experience of buying things out of a catalogue - although you are actually inside the store - was new to me, I felt quite relieved when I finally reached the collection point, where the women behind the counter handed over my new the phone: the Opticom B100, worth £2.95. “Here you go, my love,” the woman said with a smile - catching me completely off guard.
Having lived my whole life in “Service Desert Germany”, where being grumpy is considered part of the cultural heritage, I was simply not used to friendly sales personnel.

Back at my place, I unpacked the Opticom B100 and realized that its cheap technical equipment was everything but suited for the high-speed broadband connection in my apartment.

Feeling a bit unnerved about being back at Argos, I explained my problem to the sales lady, who exchanged the Opticom for the much more expensive Binatone Veva 1210 that I had chosen instead. “Here you go, my love. See you, my love,” she said in a cheerful tone that annoyed me a bit.

Later that day – right after I had called my mum to complain about my bad luck to her – the doorbell rang. It was the delivery guy, who had a package from British Telecom for me. They had sent me a new, fancy telephone that was apparently part of the welcome-pack for high-speed broadband users.

Feeling completely cross this time, I stuffed the Binatone and all the cables included back in the box and went to Argos. After I had explained to the sales lady how the British Telecom had tricked me and that I needed to return the phone again, I prepared myself for a heavy argument. But instead, all I got was this: “It’s all right love. Don’t worry love.” She even dared to smile.
Enough is enough, I thought. This woman was clearly making fun of me – no sales person could be that patient.
And just when I was about to raise the roof, it suddenly hit me: my new BT phone had no answering machine!
With my head hanging in shame about my almost-overreaction, I put on my friendly-face and told her that I had just changed my mind and wanted to keep the phone anyway.

This was obviously the overkill for her, because now I got the reaction I had waited for all the time: she plunked the box down on the counter and told me to leave the shop.
No love, no smile.

Giving her my biggest smile, I grabbed the box and said “cheers love” – secretly thanking her for making me feel home again.