Say It Again…I Dare You.

Now, I like to think of myself, for the main part, as a pretty patient person. I prefer to kill people with kindness rather than spew seven circles of verbal hell all over them. I find it more effective and anyway, it’s less exhausting.

However, since becoming a parent, my bullshit barometer has got a hell of a lot more sensitive. Why? Because, let’s face it Small-havers, we don’t have the time to deal with it. We deal with enough bullshit on a daily basis from the Small people that refuse to eat food, or wear a nappy, or nap. Perhaps they’ve decided that biting is the new tantrum and that the floor is an acceptable place to have a shit. There’s no reasoning with a toddler who can’t understand why they can’t launch their porridge across the room, or poke the cat in the eye, or play with knives. Small people think it’s perfectly acceptable to put their hands in their dirty nappy and smear it over the wall and, of course, their face. They like to pour unattended coffee on the sofa, draw on the walls, eat playdoh and scream blue murder when you try to take an errant nubbin of cat poo off them.

It’s tough for parents. The days can be long because throughout all the bullshit that the Smalls throw at us, we can’t lose our patience. We can’t scream at them, we can’t ask to speak to their manager and we can’t bitch about how shit their customer service is on Twitter.

Which is why, when a brand (who should know better) throws a similar sort of unacceptable bullshit my way, I’m likely to drop my metaphorical basket. I’m not talking about a slightly brusque sales assistant, or an out-of-stock product. I’m talking about brands taking money for something and then not giving you what you’ve paid for.

What’s that you say? Oh. Yes. That’s right. I’m talking about THEFT.

I was given two vouchers for 30 minutes facials at Liberty with Sisley. Delightful! ‘How lovely!’ I hear you squeal with jealousy. I know, right? They expire on March 31st so I figured I’d better get my skates on get these puppies booked. So, today, on March 6th I called Liberty and said, “Hi, I was given two vouchers for facials and they expire on March 31st so I’d love to get them booked if possible.”

Response?

Sisley: “No. Sorry. There’s no more appointments.”

Me: “Sorry?”

Sisley: “Yeah. We made sure there were enough appointments for everybody but you’re too late.”

Me: “Erm, well clearly there weren’t enough appointments for everybody because, oh look, I’ve got two vouchers in my hand and no appointments.”

Sisley: “I don’t really like the way you’re talking to me. I think you’re being rude.”

Me: “You’re right. I am being rude. But you know what’s worse? Being illegal. You have taken money in exchange for goods that you’re now refusing to honour.”

Sisley: “Whatever. It’s not my fault.”

Me: “Say that again. I dare you.”

Well, I’m not proud Small-havers, but I lost it. I spewed forth a tirade of such passion that even I was surprised at the oh, so fluent ass-kicking I gave her. Without taking a breath, I made it very clear how I felt about her approach to this issue because when there’s a glimmer of baby-free pampering, even just half an hour of it, and somebody so callously and casually rips it away from you…well, it’s a surefire way to unleash the beast.

To give Liberty credit, when I called their customer services representative she was amazing and said that she would call the beauty manager and get back to me asap. She wasn’t quite as amazing as my super well-connected drummer friend Mark, who texted me ten minutes after I turned to the Twittersphere for help and said, “I’ve pulled some strings. I’ve got some friends and you’ve got an appointment next Friday.”

Mark – thank you. You have made a tired, frazzled, slightly neurotic, donkey-on-the-edge, type momma very happy.

Sisley – shame on you.

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