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“Well, you know,” I tell her, “head wounds are funny things.”
I join Jonathan for the first part of the shop tour, hoping that I can help steer him away from the worst parts of it and towards the bits that are at least reasonably presentable. And Claire, for all her irreverence, has a similar plan. Which is probably why the first person we meet on our seemingly random walk is New Enthusiastic Chris.
Even at this time on a Tuesday, the showroom’s pretty busy what with people having a bit of time off and it being the season of living beyond your means. So there’s no shortage of customers, and New Enthusiastic Chris is New Enthusiasticing up a storm right now.
“This,” he’s saying to the young couple he’s managed to collar—him with half-rimmed glasses, her with blue hair, them both with the kind of vintage wardrobe that says they’ve got more money than they’re letting on—“I’ll admit it’s not our most popular model, but while it’s not for everybody, Ithinkit’ll be for you.”
He leads them to a seldom-trod corner of the beds department, and taps the foot of the Drift Gaming Ottoman Bed Frame. A flatscreen TV rises out of a concealed panel.
“It comes in double, small double if you’re tight on space, or king if you want the luxury. You can upgrade the thirty-two inch toa forty-three inch. It’s an Ottoman so there’s storage underneath, plus compartments for consoles, along with USB ports in both sides.”
He’s picked his marks right. Whatever else I might say about New Enthusiastic Chris, he’s very good at his job.
“I mean,” says her with the blue hair, “thatispretty cool.”
“What worries me,” says him with the glasses, “is that we’d never get out of bed.”
She gives him a grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s one seven nine nine,” says New Enthusiastic Chris, glossing over the price tag to move on to other things, “and we can install it for you for a small extra charge, plus there’s a matching bedside chest if you want to complete the look, and if you need a new mattress as well then we can work out a deal on the bundle, and you’ll save on delivery and installation.”
They talk amongst themselves a moment, but I can see they’re going to go for it. And I take it as a bit of a Christmas miracle, because honestly the Sheffield branch doesn’t shift very many beds with built-in smart TVs. Especially not in-store because almost by definition the people who want a dedicated gaming bed do most of their shopping online.
And with the power of his newness and enthusiasm, New Enthusiastic Chris upsells them to the king, and to the forty-three inch.
“Now,” he says just as he’s sealing the deal, “can I interest you in a protection and service plan?”
I risk a glance up at Jonathan to see how he’s taking this, and I’m almost jealous, because he’s looking at New Enthusiastic Chris like he practically wants to do him. Still, it reflects well on the store, so I can’t resent it too much.
Certainly I can’t resent it as much as I resent what happens next. Because Brian runs up to me shouting “Sam, Sam”, and ittakes me a moment to remember that I can at least respond to my name without blowing my cover.
I turn, to see him looking a mix of flustered and mortified. “Sam,” he says again.
I try to look convincingly blank. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I’m not sure who you are.”
“He’s gotamnesiaremember?” Claire waggles her eyebrows in a way I really think isn’t helping.
“Oh,” he says, “right. But the thing is, Sam. There’s trouble in bathrooms.”
I’ve said “what sort of trouble” before I can stop myself, and I hope the sheer weariness in my tone doesn’t tip Jonathan off that I’ve been dealing with this for years.
Brian spends about eighteen seconds pulling an I’m-not-sure-I-can-say face. Then he finally explains. “Some kid’s took a dump in one of the display models.”
It is not, I think, Sheffield’s finest hour. But it is also decidedly not the Sheffield branch’sfault. It’s just one of the unfortunate facts of selling toilets that sometimes people poo in them.
With what I almost think is chivalry, Jonathan insists that he’ll deal with the dumping incident personally but that I should take the opportunity to rest on account of the long trip and my head. So while Jonathan and Brian head off to handle the faeces—not literally, like—Claire takes me for a sit down in the staff room.
It turns out there’s not much space to sit down in the staff room, because it’s full up with decorations that Tiff’s bought for the Christmas party.
“Why are these here?” I ask.
“Well, where else are we going to put them?” Tiff’s giving me that defiant look.
“Stockroom?” I suggest.
“Thing about the stockroom,” says Claire, “full of stock.”
“And when Jonathan comes in here and sees all of this?” I ask.
