Shouldn't have gone to Specsavers....

The Christmas advertisements are rampant just now and I am not impressed; except for that super little gingerbread man singing Be My Guest in the Morrisons offering, they have all left me feeling queasy. Even the Bear and Hare from John Lewis, though cute and cuddly, is lacking something – dialogue maybe? Nope, my ad du jour is the wonderful offering from Specsavers. As a person who has supported a raft of optical professionals throughout her life, I have a right to comment. I just lurve the sequence. The door busts open on a room filled with senior citizens, all apparently awaiting something. A young lassie heaving a ghetto blaster hurries inside and the music begins – and her dance begins with it. Shake what yer mother gave ya, she shouts, among other aspirational taunts. Soon, the entire cohort of joy-filled older folk is swaying and synching to the beat. The door opens and another woman comes inside, a much older (than the dancing lassie) and rather puzzled looking person carrying a basket of hopeless bingo balls. Should’ve gone to Specsavers, says the questioning voiceover. At this point, I always shout a resounding no! The dancing lassie is my spiritual sister, and long may us short-sighted people bumble through the world…

Post Office Encounters...

One week ago, I went into my local post office to buy a stamp. I have gotten used to personnel trying to hustle me into changing my broadband and telephone service provider, so I wasn’t bothered about that. However, on this occasion, the sales’ woman also asked me if I had life assurance arranged – yes, life assurance. I was so shocked that I didn’t have the presence of mind to dismiss her with a simple “yes” but mumbled a few personal details before deflecting her. All this happened in front of a queue of people, by the way. I’m not complaining about the woman, in particular. She is only doing what she is paid to do. But could someone “high up” in the post office please explain why members of the public must be subject to an onslaught of aggressive sales’ technique every time we try to access a vital public service? I know the post office has to make money and all of that, but there must be a better way to sell services that entail discussion of sensitive, personal information with the sales’ person. The really biting question is: just how do I avoid being accosted by sales’ people every time, yes, every time, I walk into this particular post office? Short of wearing a cheeky “I’m only here to buy stamps” badge, I don’t see what I can do. (I have sent a copy of this complaint to the Post Office website.)