I’d generally consider myself a patient man, but one of the things that makes me cranky is customer service that doesn’t live up to expectations.

I don’t expect shopkeepers to grovel to me or anything, but I do expect them to at least attempt to make my shopping experience as smooth as possible — or if they can’t do that, then at least recognise that things aren’t going as well as they should be.

My sister keeps recommending a particular local greengrocer, so I went there last night after getting off the train. It was on my way, and I was in a hurry. I wanted spinach leaves (about the only “greens” the kids will eat without question) and a bag of carrots.

What I expected: To be able to find what I wanted quickly and easily.
What I got: No problems, found them easily.

Being after 5pm, it probably wasn’t their peak time. Of the four registers, only one was in use.

What I expected: If a queue developed and more staff were available, they’d open another register.
What I got: A customer with a fair amount of stuff was in front of me, and the lady was moving slowly through it, continually querying the price (”Was this from inside, or outside?”) Other staff members were standing around doing nothing. Maybe they were hanging out for home time. Another customer behind me asked if they could open another register. Grudgingly, it seemed, they did.

I should have switched queues, of course. But others jumped over before me, and soon there was another customer buying a fair bit of stuff who I’d have to wait behind, so I stayed put. The lady had finished tallying up the items for the guy in front of me, and he gave her his card. He had to tell her twice that he wanted it on Credit. She wrestled with the card machine, and it spluttered forth a tangled receipt. She called to someone else to see if it was all right, and the receipt was taken for examination.

What I expected: While we waited, that either she or another staff member would offer to ring up my items on another till, such as the one right next to her.
What I got: I stood there. She stood there. The other customer stood there. After half a minute I asked if she could use the other till so I could pay. A light went on, and she realised that would be a good idea, and she did so.

My items came to $2.80. I handed over a $5 note. She scrabbled around in the till, and, finding no bigger coins, starting counting out 20 cent coins.

What I expected: Some kind of acknowledgement that she was weighing me up with my bodyweight in silver. Seriously, the people in most other shops that I’ve encountered always apologise if they’re giving you a lot of coins.
What I got: 11 x 20 cent coins to stuff into my pocket. No acknowledgement.

And I was on my way.

Was it bad service? Perhaps more like mediocre service. None of it seemed malicious, but it was neglectful enough to ensure that given the choice I’ll go to one of the other local greengrocers in future.

Which is a shame. None of this is rocket science. It just takes a little vigilance to see when there’s a problem, and fix it if possible — rather than having it pointed out to you by your customers.

Safeway and Coles are going to put self-serve checkouts into their supermarkets, starting with newly refurbished locations.

I’ve used these for a couple of years at Big W at Southland and QV. You scan each item, then put it in a bag in a tray of the checkout, and it appears to weigh the items to make sure what you’re putting in the bag matches what you’ve scanned. Then you pay using the usual methods, with a staff member having to come over if a credit card signature needs to be sighted.

You also need to pay attention and ask for help if the item you’re buying has a physical security tag on it. I once made it all the way home with a tag on some clothing (I don’t remember if it made the alarms go off — I guess not), and had to take it back in to get it removed. Magnetic (or they might be RFID) tags get automagically disarmed.

There are about 8 auto checkouts, usually with 1-2 staff on duty, so I suppose it saves the company money overall.

I wouldn’t assume the weighing is foolproof, but I suppose with staff (and presumably cameras) there’s a disincentive to try and trick the machine to make off with more than you paid for.

It works quite well for Big W, especially when you’re only buying a few items and the queues-served-by-humans are long. Dunno about supermarkets though — if you’re doing the week’s Big Shop, having a professional weigh and scan and pack all your items would have to be faster, wouldn’t it?

I wonder what happens if an item won’t scan? Do you get to reach for the PA and yell “Price check!”?

Plenty has been written about this before, but I’ll put my oar in.

Facebook knows lots about you. Most users key in a bunch of stuff about their hobbies, favourite music, TV shows, all that kind of stuff. They know (roughly) where you live, how old you are, often your marital status, your interests.

So why are their adverts so hit-and-miss?

Sometimes they’re spot-on. I’ve seen Life On Mars t-shirts advertised, with pictures of Gene Hunt proclaiming some particularly amusing line from the show, such as “You’re surrounded by armed bastards!”. I’ve clicked through, and seriously considered ordering one. Well, until I saw the price.

But most of the adverts are useless. Hold ‘em poker — is there anything in my profile that suggests I’d be interested? Meet hot singles — Facebook knows I’ve been in a relationship for almost five years. Surely it isn’t predicting some kind of seven year itch coming up? Earn money from surveys — did I click on a “I need cash” option somewhere in my profile?

Snoring keeps her awake — uhh, no comment.

If computer systems are going to store a bunch of personal data about you, you’d think they’d at least make the effort to use it in a sensible way — not to mention if they get it right, they can make more money.

Or maybe I shouldn’t complain. At least the way things stand, I can happily ignore most of the ads that appear.

How’s this for a scheme?

1. Buy discounted Kit Kat Chunky chocolate bars for $1.29 at Safeway. (On special only until closing time tonight; normal price $1.88)

2. Eat bar.

3. Use code inside wrapper that gets me a $1.69 song from iTunes.

4. Profit!

I like chocolate, and I already have an iTunes account.

And in fact I’d been planning to buy a few songs, such as a couple of those David Bowie tunes used on Life On Mars (wasn’t the ending utterly brilliant!) including the title track, and Starman, also used to good effect on Torchwood. It’s cheaper to buy once-off songs for $1.69 than splash out and buy whole CDs full of other tracks I don’t really want. (How come the David Bowie best-of I already have didn’t include these two anyway?!) Even cheaper at minus 40 cents.

So what’s the catch here?

• According to the terms and conditions, you can only do this up to 5 times per iTunes account. Damn.
• They’re Nestle bars. I’ve long boycotted Nestle. But the costs of the discount and the promotion are likely to be borne by the manufacturer, which hopefully means they’re earning nothing at all, or even losing money on the deal.
• I have to eat the chocolate. Bummer. (I’ll pace myself.)

Life On Mars trivia: Sam Tyler was named after Rose Tyler from Doctor Who.

I don’t mean to gloat or anything, but I’m rather pleased I locked-in my mortgage interest rate last year. It’s locked-in for 5 years (the maximum) which may or may not have been a good idea — only time will tell — but it certainly looks pretty good right now. Mine’s locked-in at 7.85%, whereas my bank’s standard variable rate is now 9.47%.

Meanwhile, interest on savings has also been creeping up, of course. The savings account I have now has 7% interest… which leaves me wondering if it’ll climb so high that it’s above my mortgage rate. If that happens, it’ll be better for me to keep money in the savings account than the mortgage offset account. Weird. (Though now I think about it, I get charged tax on interest earned.)

Some are predicting rates will start to drop again this year. So any advantage I have now may be shortlived.

How is it that this happens every year, every Good Friday? Almost every shop in the country is closed. And yet there’s a continual stream of cars into the supermarket car park, driving up to see if it’s open.

It’s not open guys. Almost nothing is open on Good Friday. The empty car park should have been a clue — the lights being on are just a red herring.

It was the same last year, it’ll be the same next year. Plan ahead and live for 24 hours without spending money.

Or go to one of the few places that is open: some bakeries, convenience stores, etc. I got fresh bagels and challah at Glicks.

And have a happy Easter.

Update Sunday: Same today, Easter Sunday, though it appears more things are open today, so perhaps it’s understandable.

When they first arrived in Australia, my mum used to call 7-11 “4-7-11″, because the TV jingle went “Thank heaven… for Seven Eleven!”

In Swanston Street, just a few doors down from the 7-11 on the corner of Flinders Lane, is a fake 7-11: the 24-7 Cafe, with a colour scheme that is similar, but not identical to, a real 7-11. I wonder how many people walk into the 24-7 without looking carefully, and assuming it’s a 7-11?

• Wikipedia: 7-Eleven — wow, they’ve been going since the 1920s, with the name first being used in 1946.
• Memories of the 7-11

PS. Everything I said last year about petrol prices at Easter still applies.

Don’t use Dymocks bags for permanently storing things in. They seem to be made of some kind of plastic that degrades quite rapidly. I’ve had two that were kept in drawers, out of the sunlight, which have unexpectedly disintegrated into lots of little plastic bits.

Actually I think it’s great that they’re using this kind of plastic… but it means they’re not practical for keeping longterm, and it’s a shame they don’t have a warning on the bag somewhere.

You have been warned.