Complain to gain
In these turbulent financial times there are lots of internet sites springing up to help people make their money go further.
Some of them offer simple ideas such as diluting washing up liquid and wearing extra layers before you turn the heating up.
Others have a more radical approach, with tips on pulling your teeth with pliers and a bottle of TCP, or generating your own electricity by wiring up an exercise bike to the local grid and cycling while you watch EastEnders.
But I suspect there is another kind which is encouraging punters to claim compensation for the most trivial of issues arising from their holidays.
Two such folk came into the office this week. The first was a lady who had recently returned from a holiday in Spain.
Being a stout woman, I suspected that food would get a mention, but I was unprepared for how great a part of her complaint it turned out to be.
She must have listed the ingredients of every meal she’d eaten during the week, from the ‘tasteless mince’ that appeared not only on the Thursday evening but at Friday lunch too (and I thought leftovers were fashionable again) to the ‘grey’ omelettes that had appeared at breakfast.
“You have to be so sensitive with eggs,” she explained to me, “and I think they just didn’t care in that kitchen. It was all so brutal.”
I nodded and smiled and said I understood that even an egg needs a coddle every now and then, but I don’t think my little joke diverted her from her intention to formalise her distaste by writing to the operator.
Another client planning a stiff letter came in to moan about the smell of fish emanating from a sardine canning factory close to her hotel.
She’d arrived and been perfectly happy with the hotel, but as soon as the sun went in and the rain confined her to her room, she began her search for a grievance.
At that point, she probably had nothing to complain about, but, as the winds swung round, she detected a whiff of fish.
“You should have warned me,” she said, accusingly. “I had no idea there would be an industrial plant in the resort.”
Some would say you’d expect the odd sardine in Portugal, but there are clients who don’t appreciate that ‘abroad’ smells different from home. Perhaps she prefers the smell of traffic, fast food and cheap aftershave?
A different daily grind
We don’t need newsreaders to tell us the economy’s in bad shape, we’re seeing it ourselves. And not just in the lack of clients, but in the requests of those who do come into the shop.
One thirtysomething man asked if I knew of any ‘working holidays’. He listed his building qualifications and land management skills and said he couldn’t afford a holiday as he’d been laid off, but thought he could offer his skills in exchange for a change of scene abroad.
I replied that, as the eastern European builders and tradesmen who’ve underpinned the British construction industry for the past decade are fleeing these shores for better markets, I doubted there would be a demand for him.
“Oh, but I don’t just have building skills,” he said, “I thought I could teach dance.”
“Are you a dance teacher as well then?” I asked, perking up.
“No, but I have been going to salsa lessons twice a week and I thought I could make my way around South America teaching it.”
“I hate to rain on your parade,” I said with as much sensitivity as I could muster, “but the phrase ‘coals to Newcastle’ springs to mind.”
“That’s where you’re wrong!” He said triumphantly, “I’d be teaching salsa with a twist!”
“You’re going to play Chubby Checker to a Latin beat?” I asked.
“Those South Americans are way too sensual for the twist, the funky chicken or the mashed potato,” I said, “it’s only us Northern Hemisphere types that have to invent novelty dances to get around the fact that our pelvises are inhibited. Why do you think Gary Rhodes was voted off Strictly Come Dancing?!”
“What else could I do then?” he asked forlornly.
“Well, they’re one Blue Coat down at Pontin’s since that lad went on The X Factor,” I mused. “Do you think you could learn to sing?”
Maureen Hill works at Travel Angels, Gillingham, Dorset