rant and rave

Let's talk about London culture for a bit shall we? (I am 1/3 way through my coffee so let's hope I can keep this competent.)

How about we start with customer service. How about we talk about how is does not exist here. Not at all. None. Walk into a store, expect someone to acknowledge your presence, maybe ask how you want to spend the money burning a hole in your pocket (this is hypothetical, obviously)? Don't hold your breath.

Now, I don't want to have a conversation with someone in a store that I don't know (or maybe I do...maybe I am desperate to talk to someone other than a 3 year old...just kidding...sort of), but at least say "Hi, May I help you find anything?" I worked in retail, and we always had to speak to the customer. Half the time we knew the customer outside of the store, but still. It makes them feel comfortable being there.

But yesterday, when I was ready to drop a small, tiny amount on a haircut for the Wild Child, and the woman in the kids store literally.walked.away.mid-conversation. I almost lost it. And I might have let the next person who helped me know it. This store is precious (sort of like Snoozy's minus the fantastic customer service) and in the past I have been helped by nice people, but yesterday...I'm not sure what the deal was.

And I won't even tell you about trying to get internet installed here. You think utilities are a pain at home? You thank your lucky stars when Bubba shows up 2 hours late, smelling of McDonalds and snuff that he is even there and that wonder of all wonders, he fixes your TV, Internet, Phone. While being "mighty nice to ya, ma'am."

But here is something you all might find interesting in light of the recent political trend:

I went to the NHS yesterday. NHS meaning National Health Service. Meaning socialized/government healthcare. Of which we will partake.

First, I was so nervous. I had no idea what to expect. When we signed up, the receptionist was beyond helpful and so nice (there is customer service sometimes!). I made an appointment to see a doctor really for the sole reason of making sure this place seemed safe.

I was able to see a doctor I had heard good things about, but I had to wait a week, which was okay since I wasn't in a hurry. When I got there, you check in, and then when it is your turn a screen beeps and your name scrolls across and says where to go. (I did watch one woman miss her name and when the nurse or doctor had to come out and get her, she pointed rather angrily at the screen. Note to self: listen for beep.) I got my beep, and walked back. We went straight into the doctor's office. Cool. There she is. She doesn't have scales, she looks normal. I check out the room. The paper on the examining table is wrinkled and hasn't been changed. Okay. I'm not getting on it anyway. She pulls out toys for Wiley to play with. Great. So far so good. We start talking, she checks Wiley who has recently developed a cold. Discovers ears, throat are inflammed, and he has a small fever. (I promise I had been checking his fever, and it was non-existent up until then.) "He has a small fever." "Oh, no. What is it?" "38 degrees" [blank stare] "What? What does that mean? In fahrenheit?" "I don't know, normal is 37. We use celsius." "Right. Dorothy we are not in Dr. Bill's office anymore." So, no school today. But I digress.

The thing is, as the doctor herself told me, is that with NHS you are in a hurry. They are packed (didn't seem packed in the waiting room since there were like 5 other people), and you only have 10 minutes to have your say with the doctor. That is a lot of pressure. And then they are talking fast, you are talking fast, you are scribbling notes fast. And then suddenly you are racing out of the door thinking "Oh my goodness, I just took up so much of her time!" Then you realize it was only 10 minutes. And for a second there (more than a second), you think, "I would have liked to have been greeted by a hug from Dr. Bill who wants to know how we've been, what's going on with Wild Child, draws him a train on the tongue depressor, meets you in his office to tell you about your lab results, gives you free samples, sends sweet Bessie in with them, and does not rush you out the door. But alas, we are in another country. Again, I digress.

NHS. We live in a nice area, so I think that the NHS office is then reflective of the area. I can't speak to other places, and honestly we haven't had much happen that requires more than looking at a throat. I have heard that you have to be your own or child's advocate. There are good and bad stories out there. I wish I could say more, but so far we have seen a limited bit of this system.

When we finished, we literally walked out. Didn't pay. Didn't do anything. Bizarre. And that is when I remembered that saying, "You get what you pay for." And I didn't pay anything.

...coming soon: Holiday Decorations (something light and cheery!)