Do you ever remember me mentioning Fred Hyde? We knew each other well in the old days, just as he got locked into distribution methods at Brunel University.
Well, I met Fred again the other day in The Better Half, while waiting to be served. At first, he pretended not to know me. You know those non-recognition signals, don't you? (Oh, come on! I'm sure you find it's happening to you all the time!)
In the end, we acknowledged each other and moved to an empty table. Immediately, Fred assumed I was fascinated by his recent activities and launched into a description.
"I completed my PhD in Consumer Mandation at Chicago," he said, "and I bet you can't guess what I'm doing now, can you? Or can you?" He ignored my vigorous twin gestures of agreement/denial and plunged on.
"As you know, there's been extensive research to establish the progress of 'customer acceptance', then 'customer loyalty' and recently, in the US, 'customer veneration' of the retailer'. In my field, we are taking the whole thing forward to a new dimension. We are seeking to integrate all aspects of the customer's life with that of the retailer. It's called the Umbi Concept, after umbilical. We are seeking 'DD+' (dogged devotion plus) from our customers."
I started to respond but he waved me silent. "Of course, you were the one who started us off, really. You remember when I'd just graduated and was working for Hankings and they were looking for another product range? You, Conrad, came up with the genius idea!
"'Let's sell death!' you said. You wanted to go in for kinky shrouds – you know, fashionable death wear, graveside games, fun funerals with all the food and trimmings laid on. Then I coined the slogan 'Let's take the "D" out of "Death"'. I real winner!"
"Doesn't that make 'eath'?" I enquired. "Whatever!" said Fred.
Quickly, he went on to explain that my idea was not wrong, merely ahead of its time.
"D'you remember the arguments we used to have, in this very pub?" he asked. "What were the benefits of the different methods of body preservation? Should we stick to embalming or should we create a fashion in taxidermy, or even marination?" Eventually, he'd tried it out, when making the funeral arrangements for the wife of his boss. He left the company shortly afterwards.
"But what are you doing now?" I insisted.
"Didn't I tell you? Well, keep this strictly under your hat until I've got you with a confidentiality agreement." He went on to explain that he was now a research executive in Beculis Steen, the retail researchers. The results of their work were to be incorporated into a new major shopping development just west of London.
"It's got the working title of Silverglade – just off the M25, between the M4 and M40. There's nothing there now, it's just a desert!"
He invited me to visit their company offices in Greenford. "I'm not making any promises, but your early work on commerical death has been remembered," said Fred. "You come strictly as a visitor for now. But let's think of a specific role. Start with something in 'Product Presentation and Location'."
"You mean a shelf-stacking job," I accused.
"I can see you've got an awful lot to learn," said Fred. "In-house product handling already consists of a whole cluster of material and psychological technologies. Look, why not come and find out? Why not come to Greenford next Wednesday?"
I temporised. "I do my hair on Wednesday," I demurred shyly.
"That's OK," said Fred. "When you come on Thursday we can get your views on 'Emotional Involvement'."
For me, this was to be a totally new experience, especially since I had to crouch all day, dressed in green tights!
When I arrived on Thursday, I was handed a uniform labelled UO (Undercover Operative). Fred explained they had designed a special programme for me. "It's to give you an insight into how we work," he said. "We'll start with a very sensitive aspect of customer relations. By this I mean 'Product Shrinkage Through Pilferage'. You can start in Garden Decorations."
I was taken to the flaship store "Mastodons of Hanwell". There, I was introduced to a large lady, dressed in a Lincoln green tunic. She was in overall charge of all garden furniture security. (I came to know her simply as Brown Owl.) Brown Owl wasted no time on introductions. She allowed me a brief survey of the garden decorations display – a whole host of garden creatures, brownies, pixies, fairies, gnomes and the like.
Brown Owl pointed to a garden shed. "That's your hide," she whispered hoarsely. "From there, you have a perfect view of the thieving bastards. If you see any funny business, sound your alarm." She patted the hunting horn at her belt. Quickly, I changed into my green tights and entered the garden shed, armed with my hunting horn and video camera. I soon settled down to my invigilation task.
I had been watching for only five minutes, when I heard a noise behind me. It was Brown Owl. "Settling down all right?" she asked. "Oh, and don't assume you are here only to observe pilfering. There is sexual assault as well."
"Obviously," she confided, "a certain amount of bodily handling is necessary to complete a mannequin sale. That's quite different from the gross sexual indecency displayed by some of our customers. And don't forget – a smiling, cheerful-looking mannequin is no proof of an innocent customer. You've got to be smart!"
I didn't know how to respond to this. I decided that I would look vigilant. I examined the throng of customers. In the case of some of them it was difficult to distinguish between the customers and the merchandise. Indeed, I saw one old man protesting vigorously when a woman tried to find his price tag.
Suddenly, Brown Owl grabbed my arm and snarled "Thieving bitch!" She pointed to a family leaving the display. We started to trail the family. "We'll confront them outside," said Brown Owl. "Watch me!"
Outside the store, Brown Owl approached the housewife, in the manner of a security agent. "Hello," she said. "Finished your shopping? OK. Good. Still got your receipt? Good. I'm doing a survey. Can I just glance at your receipt?"
Then her demeanour changed. "No! You've got no receipt, have you? That's because you haven't paid! You'd better come back into the store with us and explain . . . this!" With a dramatic gesture she reached into the pram and withdrew the baby clothes. Nestling at the bottom of the pram was a beaming rubicund gnome!
It took us two hours to process the thieves. It transpired they were part of an international gnome gang based in Munich.
By the end of the shift I was fed up with the constant violence and commotion in Garden Decorations. I was offered but refused evening work. "It will be quieter then." I had already heard that in the evenings the merchandise would gather in groups and refuse to be sold. I heard they are working on some sort of Mannequin Manifesto.
My advice is to stay away from any garden sprite unless you have been personally introduced. It could be a malevolent mannequin. Me? What can I do? I've taken all the prudent steps. I now drink at The Haven.
Yours,
