RECENTLY at work, I have been teaching staff about the importance of good customer service, the expectations of customers, the service we provide and the service we expect to receive from others.

Perhaps because I now always have good client care in mind, my ears prick up whenever I come across poor service.

After all, as we all know, customer satisfaction is crucial.

Last Saturday morning, I had agreed to meet my friend Christine in my local supermarket café for some breakfast before we went on to get our nails done.

“What do you fancy this morning then,” she asked.

“Oh, not sure, but I am hungry,” I had to admit.

“Me too,” she agreed.

“But I need to nip to the toilet first, so you go ahead and order yours.

“A roll and link sausages and a cup of tea please,” I politely asked the surly looking female assistant a moment later.

“That’s £3.50,” she informed me, without as much as a please or a thank you.

I stood and watched as she lifted my sausages out of the tray under the hot lights and placed them on a roll which she practically threw on to my tray before pouring a mug of boiling water for my tea.

A few minutes later, Christine came out of the toilet and on spotting my breakfast, decided that she would have the same.

“A roll and link sausages please and a mug of tea,” she equally politely requested.

“Sorry, we’ve no sausages left,” was they reply.

Christine pointed to the tray of sizzling sausages.

“But, I can see them from here.”

“Aye, but I’ve got to keep them in case someone comes in for a full English breakfast.”

Christine and I looked around the empty café then stared at each other before she blurted: “Well, can you spare some bacon then?”

The assistant handed her a roll with bacon and a mug of boiling water.

“She’s not very helpful,” I stated the blinking obvious.

“No wonder this place is empty.”

A few minutes later, and quite unexpectedly, my sister Jean appeared at our table carrying her tray.

She pulled up a chair and sat down beside us.

“What a flaming carry on,” Jean said, seemingly somewhat less than pleased as she nodded towards the assistant.

“I asked for two slices of brown toast,” she ranted, “and crabbit face over there says she doesn’t have any brown bread, only white.”

“How can she not have brown bread,” Christine was aghast.

“We are in a supermarket. There’s a whole shelf of brown loaves out there.”

“Exactly,” answered Jean slurping at her tea.

“She also didn’t have any butter, only margarine.”

Next minute we watched as ‘crabbit face’ served another customer.

“A large coffee to go please,” requested the portly man.

‘Crabbit face’ put the coffee down and thrust her hand out for the money.

“Can I have a lid for the coffee cup," asked the man.

“We’ve run out.”

“There’s a surprise,” I muttered.

“Well’ how am I meant to drive my taxi with the cup in the cup holder with no lid on it,” replied the man quite reasonably.

“My coffee will be spilling everywhere.”

“Don’t know,” was the now expected answer. “But we’ve run out.”

Thankfully there was only half an hour until our nail appointment so Christine and I fled from the café-from-Hell and headed into a no-frills supermarket for a few bits and pieces.

But, as usual, I ended up with my basket full to the brim with items.

Placing them on the conveyor belt I looked up to find that the assistant was firing my items through the scanner at 100 miles an hour.

Rummaging in my handbag for a carrier bag, I had to quicken my pace somewhat as the assistant was launching items at me faster than an Andy Murray serve.

I attempted to pack my goods as they hurtled my way, but they were literally thrown at me quicker than I could catch them.

“Rush, rush, rush,” I thought to myself. “What’s the bloody rush.”

I mean, I like prompt service but this was ridiculous.

“£22.53 please,” asked the grinning assistant who now expected me to immediately stop packing and pay her.

But the second I had paid her, I had to vigorously continue packing again as the generation game conveyor belt came alive again for the next customer.

My fresh soft loaf was squashed flat by the tins on top of it.

And my eggs looked as though they were well and truly scrambled!

“I think I’d rather pay the extra, and shop elsewhere, than have my shopping thrown at me,” I confided in Christine.

But Christine wasn’t laughing either as she had just had a similar experience.

“I know,” she agreed.

“The girl started serving the customer behind me before I’d finished, so I had to throw everything into the one bag because his food was getting mixed up with mine.”

Christine looked harassed.

“My crisps are now crumbs and my rolls are like pancakes."

Customer satisfaction. Well we weren’t satisfied.

And then we went on to have our nails done … and that’s another story.