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Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Grumpy Kleeneze Man

I had to write this on a post. I decided on Monday morning to have a bath. As one does. The house is empty. It's quiet. Nice to have a nice hot bath. We got some nice bath foam in Sainsbury's the other day. It take quite a while for the bath to fill up as the gas boiler only runs when you turn the hot tap on. A relatively ancient system. You have to run the hot tap for a minute or two before it runs hot and then hot enough for a relatively warm bath and some time before the water-level is high enough before I actually get in. 

A couple of days ago we had the latest Kleeneze catalogue shoved through the door. I didn't bother to look at it, because, to be honest, I can't see the point of ordering anything as most of what they sell you can buy elsewhere, such as Asda, Sainsbury or Tesco (or any number of similar outlets.) and they also have a website so if I was desperate for a gadget to catch spiders in, or a thing for de-fluffing the stair carpet or getting the dust out from behind  a radiator with a special brush, I might be inclined to by it on-line or go to a shop to buy such an item. Not that over-awed by their stuff at the best of times so why bother. I know if you get these confounded catalogues you have no choice but to put them outside where the agent can retrieve them when they call back. Not as if the things are actually wanted. Just another load of stuff that gets shoved through the letter box along with leaflets for pizza deliveries, estate agencies telling you they can sell your house or double-glazing companies. So, I had it ready where I could find it for when the agent came back and was likely to knock on the door and demand the thing, so it's a good idea to have it where you can find it and not be looking around to retrieve the confounded thing. 

Well, to get to the point of the story and the connection with my bath . . .  . cut to the chase and so on . . . I was waiting incidentally for a parcel to arrive from Amazon. Carol had ordered a book on teaching psychology or something and so it was actually quite an important parcel so I was keeping one ear open, as they say, for the merry knock on the door by an employee of Royal Mail. So, as I settled down to have a rather pleasant soak in the bath, there was a somewhat angry-sounding knock on the door. At first I just ignored it, but when it was heard again I had no option but to respond. It would mean getting out of the bath and drying myself and then finding my clothes and then going downstairs to answer the door. So, instead, I made the decision to get out of the bath and open the window and calling down to the, as yet, unseen person at the door.  Well, I had no clothes on (!) but my modesty was well hidden as I lent out of the open window. As I peered out I couldn't see directly below the window as there is a porch which has a roof which hid the person below. I shouted down, believing the person pounding on the door to be a postman, as I expected the Amazon parcel to be in the process of being delivered and that the postman wanted to hand it over as it was unlikely to fit through the letter-box. So I said 'can you put it in the bin-cupboard?' which is immediately next to the front door and the usual place for items which won't fit through the letter-box if we are out when they arrive. But it wasn't the postman. Instead, a face turned up to me, of a somewhat grumpy gentleman who was obviously a Kleeneze agent. He shouted 'leave the catalogue out for me by Thursday!' and walked off in something of a huff. Not exactly the sort of customer-service I would expect from someone I was likely to buy something off. More likely put me off and not bother. So I completed my bath, the still and peace of the morning somewhat ruined by a grumpy old git.

This whole episode puts me in mind of the B.B.C. Television sitcom "One Foot In The Grave" as the grumpy old Kleeneze man makes me think of the character in it played by Richard Wilson, Victor Meldew, who was just as grumpy and bad-tempered as the man I had the misfortune to come into contact on the occasion of that morning a few days ago.

I have now put the wretched Kleeneze catalogue out on the doorstep. It is in a plastic bag which is supposed to keep it dry if left out in the rain. It is there for grumpy old man to collect when he returns on Thursday. Sorry to say, if he treats all his customers in the same way as me he won't get many sales. Actually, next time one of their catalogues is thrust through the letter box I think I'm more inclined to throw it out with the recycling as it has put me off Kleeneze altogether. I shall now make a point of NOT buying anything from the aforementioned Kleeneze catalogue if and indeed, when, it is shoved through our letterbox. The stuff inside it is generally not up to much anyway, and certainly if he man who runs the thing in this area is so rude and bloody-minded he can keep his rubbishy catalogue and all it contains if all he's going to be is miserable and grumpy.
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