Land of DIY

I've lived in places where supermarket staff happily pack up your groceries and lug them to your car, where doors to fancy hotels and swanky shopping malls are opened by smiling porters, and where egg fried rice, madras curry or anything else you fancy is cheerfully delivered straight to your door at one o'clock in the morning!

Okay, call me a princess, but would it really be too much to ask if, for once, the local supermarket employee pushed my cart back into its queue, without me having to kick it infront of me one step at a time, whilst simultaneously holding on to two overflowing shopping bags with one arm, and a family-sized pack of loo-rolls tucked under the other. Honestly.
And that time, a few years ago in Habitat, when I bought two outrageously overpriced garden chairs plus a folding table, and the slick shop manager watched me clanging and banging through the entire store all the way to the back, because that's where the parking lot was located. What was he afraid of? Breaking a fingernail???

And the strange phenomena of having to lug the new bookcase, armchair or whatever other bulky furniture you can think of home by yourself! Or pay exorbitant delivery charges.
What do the furniture stores expect? That we all own a pick-up truck?

In this respect, this country has a lot of catching up to do. Needless to say, the governments' campaign to improve customer service has failed dismally. 

Anyway, I've got to go now and cart the bins out to the front, to save the garbage men the trip of going to the back of the house, of course!

;-)