People are funny and in this regular series, our kitchen retailer recounts some of the crazier moments he has had dealing
with customers
I have always wondered why clients never mention that they have dogs until you arrive at their front door. When you arrive, they invariably say “do you have a problem with dogs?” I now know why.
It was the final sign-off day and my trusted team had done the installation and I was going to do some final snagging. I needed to check a vent in a plinth that wasn’t sitting flush before handing the kitchen over.
As I arrived, our client, who for the sake of anonymity will be called Mrs Owner, opened the door and said “hello, do you have a problem with dogs?” “No,” I replied, as I saw a lovely, fluffy, big-pawed lollopy shaggy rug of a dog behind her. “This is Henry, he’s a year old – he’s still a puppy.” Henry was enormous. “He’s very sweet, but he won’t let us move his bed, so he will be in with you while you finish up.”
I was fine with this as it was a big open-plan kitchen. Henry plodded off quietly to his bed in the corner. I opened my toolbox and forgot all about him. Little did I know that Henry was a puppy with serious criminal intentions…
As it goes, I am quite forgetful. I had laid out my measuring tape, some screwdrivers of different sizes and a couple of pencils. Or at least I thought I had. As is often the case in a kitchen, I was both kneeling and lying on the floor in order to undo the plinth. I felt for the big screwdriver. It wasn’t there. Tutting to myself at my own stupidity, I looked for another in the box, and started again. The vent had different screws so I felt around for my Phillips.
I put my hand out for the measuring tape and pencil. I had definitely taken them out, hadn’t I? Was I having a senior moment?
Bloody hell, I could have sworn I had taken that out of the toolbox. That wasn’t there either. I got another and carried on. I couldn’t work out why the plinth wasn’t sitting right, so I put my hand out for the measuring tape and a pencil. I had definitely taken them out, hadn’t I? Was I having a senior moment? I genuinely thought I was. I looked around. There was nothing there apart from the toolbox itself.
And then I heard nom, nom, nom, nom, nom – followed by some very loud munching and crunching sounds. I peered over at Henry, looking utterly adorable in his bed. My measuring tape was in his mouth. Henry had helped himself to all of my tools. He was like a cat burglar, except he was a dog. He had already chewed an entire screwdriver handle. My pencils were all
in shreds.
I tried to retrieve them from Henry. Grrrr. I tried to cajole him – “hello lovely doggy, may I have my tools back?” Grrrr. I went off to get Mrs Owner to help me retrieve them. Grrrr. He still wouldn’t budge. Grrrr.
My tools now live with Henry.