Things can only get.....(Part 2)

Just when I thought that nothing else could break down on me - on Sunday night , smoke emerging from the back of our microwave hinted that there just might be a reason why it wasn't working anymore...

After some researching on the net, (in the few hours we had before John left on a business trip to Cyprus) we decided on one we liked, which was at Comet - but getting it, well - thereby hangs a tale.

At Comet, there were 2 of the ovens we had looked at in boxes, underneath the display oven, so I could have a play around with it - only
opening and closing the door and having a good look at the stainless steel interior, but enough to assure me it should be OK. I then went to lift it, and decided that, although I could probably get it to the front desk, why bother when there were staff lounging around? So I went to the nearest workstation, with a man and a woman pouring over a monitor, waved my piece of paper, and started to say, "I wonder if someone could help me carry..."

"No need, madam - we just need the paper you have with the spec number"
"But it's only over there..."
"That's fine - but we'll get one out of stores for you"
"But …"

Onto the phone she goes, orders up the oven, and asks me to wait at the front cash desk. I duly walk to the front, and the cashier asks if he can help.
"They're just bringing a microwave out of stores for me"

So I wait, and wait, and wait, and wait....

And his phone goes. It was Stores

"Do you happen to have the paper with the spec number on it, madam?"
"Yes, but honestly, I only wanted someone to help me lift it from the shelf."
"No need, Madam - he's just bringing it down"

A grunt comes out of a door - with nothing in his hand.

"Which microwave did you want?"
" The one on the shelf over there" says I.
"What was the spec number?"
At this point, I smiled and said to the grunt "Come with me". He followed like a lamb, as I explained the problem.
"Which Pratt told you it was quicker to ring through?"

As we passed said Pratts, hiding behind their monitor, I quietly pointed them out
"****** typical" the grunt said.

I showed him the microwave, apologised that I didn't want to risk lifting it by myself (on my current form, I would have probably dropped it), and he smiled saying "That's my job, my love". He carried it to the cash desk, where in about 15 seconds, I was the proud owner of the oven I had seen 20 minutes previously. He then escorted it to the car, smiling, whilst the original hapless duo around the monitor were nowhere to be seen.......

'Aint technology wonderful.....