So yes, this is my fourth time to bitch - maybe more. Let me start with my Facebook post... no wonder I have so few 'friends'.
Big hairy deal. That doesn't help you make the sale when I've waited five minutes for any attention from the five staff behind the counter. Sure the tool in front of me was dropping more on his plastic velodrome monstrosity than me on bar-tape and bottle cages, but there were four more of you available if you'd pulled the wrenches out of your asses.
Here's another hint: never put the register at the workshop desk: bikeshop-wrenches are, to a man, dickheads in both Japan and Canada. They think they're too professional to work the till. If they could ride, they'd be juiced up on le tour. If they had real mechanical skills, they'd be making triple under a car. Reminds me of this blast from blog past:
The shops gave me BS: pay us double installation since you did not order through us (you don't carry steel forks, fuckhead), and bring us your bike to look at before we commit to doing it (bag and it and schlep it across Tokyo twice? And you might do it? Fuck you!)So when the kowai-Gaijin slams the product in his hand on the table, walks out saying:
Is going to leave you nothing but the sight of my ass walking out your door never to darken it again.