Let me tell you a Secrett

I wish we’d stop shopping at Secretts in Milford. It’s this massive garden centre where the staff are useless. I have no idea why the place is so successful. People, clearly, have no desire for good service.

It WAS my fault we went there today. I fancied buying my veg at the farm shop (also part of Secretts but a world away when it comes to the shopping experience) and Mirinda wanted to visit a garden centre so it made sense to combine the two. The next time I have this thought…well, I’m really hoping there won’t be a next.

And it’s such a pity because the garden centre is lovely but the minute you want to get served…that’s when things really start to go downhill at a rapid pace. Sort of like a cannonball that really, really wants to sit on the bottom of a river. It’s not going to be particularly happy until it’s resting in the mud, amongst the reeds and toe sucking fish.

The cafe was where I started. I’m pretty sure I’ve written about the way we shop at garden centres. Mirinda wanders around looking for what she wants and then she comes and gets me to wander around putting them in a trolley. I’m in the cafe, waiting. Of course. And today was no different.

I guess the problem is, I’ve been spoilt because generally I get served. This is a very rare thing at Secretts. I mean they will EVENTUALLY serve you but not until they’ve ignored you and made you wait at least 20 minutes beforehand.

I’m sure that the staff would say it was because they were terribly busy. Not that this was the case today. There was one woman on the till who eventually served me then took my money. There was another woman who stood behind the counter and made her own lunch before walking off with it. There was a young girl standing in a doorway, her arms crossed but, other than that, doing nothing. There was a woman making a sandwich. They all ignored me completely. I guess they were hoping I’d go away and stop bothering them.

And I was sorely tempted to do just that. I was just waiting for one of them to ask me what I wanted so I could say that it had been so long, I’d forgotten. But I really wanted a coffee so when the woman on the till asked me, I told her I wanted a latte. I looked rather displeased but I’m pretty sure the subtlety of my expression was completely wasted on her.

When Mirinda finally joined me, she experienced something very similar while trying to get a cup of tea.

But this was nothing compared to the lack of service one receives at the tills. Firstly, it’s organised really badly so that trolleys and customers have no idea what’s happening or what they’re queuing for. Then, when you get to the till, invariably the cashier will disappear for some inexplicable reason, leaving you standing by the checkout looking like a muppet with a pair of wellies.

So, I really wish we’d stop shopping at Secretts in Milford.