After seeing two irritants coming together this morning in the shape of James Corden 'guest-editing' Shortlist - i.e., have your picture taken with the team and get paid for it (any excuse to big up the team in Shortlist), I decided to sooth my shattered nerves at Pret A Manger.
Of course that's a mistake because the minute you walk in you're bomarded by childishness. I know I've probably blogged about this before - I can't believe I haven't - but it doesn't get any better. In fact, it may have got worse.
Everything has some matey little aside attached to it, like we're pals. You're a shop. You are not my friend.
'You may have noticed we have a big, fancy baker's oven in every Pret shop!', trills the notice at you like you have learning disabilities. I half expect the next sentence to be 'Do you know what that is, children?'. This, according to the sandwich bag, is a 'passion fact'. In fact it's passion fact No.11. Because they must ram down our throats at every opportunity how they live for food. Judging by the motley crew of servers and cooks at my local one I think it's simply a means to an end that involves foreign students heating up ready cooked rolls, stuffing bitter lettuce between two slices of bread and overdoing it with the sauces. Let's throw in not having a clue what you're talking about while we at it. Hardly the line-up at the River Cafe. More like the back row in Glee club.
And of course it's owned by McDonalds, so as much as it yearns to be seen to be taking food - healthy food - serioulsy, it won't be. Everything's over-salted and over-buttered and over-mayoed. Plus its policy of babytalk doesn't help. I have to say I'm fast going off the ham and cheese croissants, once my savoury morning snack of choice. But they're always the other side of tepid by the time I get to my desk, and I've noticed lately they're also a little doughy and undercooked too.
At the counter I inwardly most cross when you plonk your juice on the counter and ask for your croissant leaving a few beats before the dimbulb behind the counter asks 'do you want any coffee?'. If I'd wanted a coffee I'd have asked for it. I don't need prompting like I'm mentally subnormal.
But the whole ethos tells you you are. To wit on a napkin: 'If Pret staff get all serviette-ish and hand you huge bunches of napkins (which you don't need or want) please give them the evil eye. Waste not want not'. Who's doing the voice over? Joyce Grenfell?
It's absurd. Treating inanimate objects like they can think for themselves is my pet hate. The back of Ocado vans which say 'I'm a veggie van. I drink biodiesel' like it's Thomas the bloody Tank Engine or something. It's just further proof of the infantilisation fo Britain. You many not think for yourself anymore and must be treated like a child. Statement of fact about VAT and the like have to have 'nightmare!', at the end of the sentence as if to tell us they share our pain. I'm not buying it.
I blame Innocence smoothies, surely the worst offenders. Those drinks that say 'I'm made from lots and lots of lovely berries and if I'm not you can tell my mum' may just as well say 'I'm a cunt'.
It's time to grow up.
Enjoy your day.
