Benefits of Fabric Protection
As wonderful as it is to spend the evening surfing your favourite shop in your pyjamas with a glass (or ten) of wine, nothing beats wandering through a shop touching cushions and bouncing on seats. I would happily spend hours in furniture shops, There’s just one thing that puts me off: the salesman.
I’m still coming to terms with the hellish experience of walking around Reid Furniture, being followed by the most desperate, sweating, twitching man I’ve ever seen. He all but screamed ‘I have to feed my kids!’ as I walked away from an abomination of white leather and crystal.
I found the right sofa at DFS on Friday. Then the salesman appeared. I nearly walked away from the only sofa I liked after four months of searching because some guy, chewing a pen, wandered around the shop with me.
At DFS we had been greeted by a quiet young guy who told us his name and left us to it. Then ‘pen chewer’ arrived, obviously thinking that we hadn’t been bothered enough. He approached things a little differently. He acted casual, sitting in an overpriced armchair with his hands clasped behind his head. His body language may have said ‘I don’t need this sale’ but beads of sweat (and what I think may have been black hair dye) were sliding off his head.
He followed me around, talking crap and chewing on his pen. I fantasised sticking the crippled pen in his eye, just to see if he would carry on with the ‘benefits of fabric protection’ speech.
I grimaced, made a quick exit and came back two days later to purchase the sofa. I gave the sale to the quiet salesman who had spoken to us originally.
Unfortunately, I misjudged the quiet one. When I explained that I didn’t want fabric protection, he changed from quiet and unassuming to all out crazy pusher. He disappeared into the office and returned with a cup of coffee and a bundle of paper to show us the ‘benefits of fabric protection’.
I was asked to feel the paper, tear the paper, dunk the paper in the coffee and bend the paper. It was like Blue Peter, except when the show ends you’re down a thousand quid and you want to smother Konnie Huq with a swatch book of leather fabrics.
I didn’t take the fabric protection, and I’m shopping online from now on.
