I'm not a fan of Greggs' festive bakes, but I agree with them on the subject of rude customers

Earlier this week, a Croydon branch of Greggs posted a note on their door.

It asked customers to please remove their headphones and come off their phones, or they might not get served. You go, sassy London Greggs! 

Although this isn’t a company-wide policy, it happened off the back of a positive week for the company.

They’re obviously feeling quite gallous, after persuading Nigella Lawson, who apparently once said she’d never try one of their sausage rolls, to appear in the brand’s first Christmas advert.

I don’t know if she took the job for irony’s sake, but she’s certainly eaten her hat. And I bet their seasonal pastry doesn’t taste that different to a well-worn bunnet.

Anyway, in anticipation of a rush after Lawson endorsed their Festive Bakes, which contain a cholesterol-bothering blend of chicken, sage and onion stuffing, bacon and cranberry sauce, they’re laying down the law. 

I totally agree with the decree.

The customer is not always right. They are more often very annoying.

Greggs muncher | AFP via Getty Images

I’m a bit bored of people who are stubbornly unwilling to come out of their bubbles, even for two minutes. 

I see them, in the park, ‘walking’ their dogs, while staring at their phone screen. I feel bad for the cockapoos, who desperately seek approving eye contact from under their floppy fringes, and end up delivering their spit-covered balls to strangers instead. Always happy to help.

Personally, I keep my phone in my pocket and always remove my headphones if I anticipate that I’m going to be engaging with someone. I also take my pods out of my ears, so others know that I can hear them. 

The only time I don’t is when I get on the bus, as I know the engagement period is so brief. 

Though, when I’m getting off, I’m never sure if I’ve shouted or whispered my ‘thanks, driver’.

I’d certainly never talk on my phone, while paying at a counter. That’s cringe.

I’m not saying that I deserve a citizen of the year award. It’s just the ground zero of politeness. 

Maybe it’s the new Trumpian era that’s been ushered in, but some seem to have forgotten how to treat other human beings. 

It must be grim to work in hospitality and retail, especially at this time of year, and have to deal with the blank stares of unsmiling zombie customers. The lack of eye contact, the pointing and waving of contactless debit cards.

The days must drag, under the weight of other people’s entitlement. 

I know, I’ve worked in shops, and a pleasant conversation or an enthusiastic thank you can make your day. 

However, these interactions are not purely for the benefit of the staff.  Au contraire.

At a time when the future seems all too bleak, social moments provide customers with a boost of endorphins, too.

In fact, sociologists call these relationships ‘weak ties’. They’re the light relationships - the lollipop lady you say ‘hi’ to, the chatty neighbour, waiting staff in a restaurant, the fitness instructor, the cockapoo that asks you to throw its ball, and, yes, the Greggs worker. 

They create a sense of a network, and make us feel more connected. The brain chemical benefits may be evolutionary, in that we’ve learnt that the best survival information can come from new contact with fresh insight.

Try it. There’s nothing I love more than a chat with a stranger. It’s one of life’s pleasures.

I’ve found that I have a special affinity with taxi drivers. 

One told me that I should train to be a therapist, after he spilled about his split from his wife. That was a bit awks. Generally, I prefer discussing more superficial matters.

Food is my favourite subject. I like to know where they stop for lunch, or if they have a sandwich in the glove compartment. It’s surprising how many of them are Greggs fans. 

I enjoyed the chat with my last Uber driver, originally from Warsaw, who was enthused about Polish meringue cakes and his city’s amazing doughnuts, ‘better than anything from Krispy Kreme’. 

These brief interactions are easier, sometimes, than speaking to a pal, since you have a completely blank slate. 

You don’t have to remember and pick up any loose threads, or wonder if you’re repeating a rambling non sequitur of a story.

It doesn’t matter how much of an introvert I think I am, my brain craves these throw-away encounters.

I even enjoyed it when a local shopkeeper sarcastically said, “Are you having a dinner party, then?” when I bought a single baking potato. Really, he deserved a drum roll.

Last week, I bought a new cardi from COS, and had a lovely light-as-air frippery of a chat with the shopkeeper. We talked about their leopard print mohair cardigan and how the fibres would stick to their lip gloss and why I couldn’t wear that fabric, because it gets under my contact lenses. 

We covered the classic small talk subject of mild weather, and how it affects knitwear sales. 

I enjoyed every second. It eased the pain of my financial splurge.

Of course, there’s an art to these chats. 

You must cut them short, if you’re in a queue or the staff member looks particularly busy.

Still, a two minute interaction is such a strange buzzy boost for the brain.

I may not be first in line for one of their Festive Bakes, but Greggs is right about some things.