I don’t know what it is, but I often find myself unwillingly participating in Sales Assistant Idol as I do my weekly shop. You may well have endured this to. And if you have, well I feel for you.
At the start of the audition there are no formal introductions and name exchanges. Clearly the sharing of personal information being seen as irrelevant and time wasting. And to back this up, I have yet to encounter a store manager/supervisor at the till-point, cucumber in hand, acting as presenter. Admittedly the assistants often have a name badge, but they definitely do not have a number slapped on their chests, not even a staff number.
It’s just a case of hand over your purchase and off they go. You can almost see them flexing their vocal chords as they grip and scan your first item before launching into song with the second. Heaven help you if you have a trolley-load, you could be there for Whitney Houston’s’ greatest hits.
This weekend is a case in point. There I was, happily returning an item when my sales-assistant decided to audition her way through the transaction. The song was a lovey-dovey hit and it was a reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyy bad cover. I gritted my teeth and wished I had the gonads of Simon Cowell to tell her she sounded like a wailing cat with no hope of going platinum.
Now let’s be fair, she didn’t belt it out. But she was really into it. Her face was etched with passion and you could tell her Mariah Carey wails were coming from deep, deep within her gut. I swear her bottom lip was quivering and her eyes were swooning as she hit the keyboard, but sadly and agonisingly not the notes.
I was sorely tempted to hand over a score card instead of my credit card. And if I had of done, she would have received a hefty -54! She was horrendous.