Tired of Tourists - The Customer Service Downturn

It's getting to that part of the Summer season here in Pembrokeshire. We've past those dull June days full of unfulfilled expectancy, we have boldly embraced those first busy weeks in July with un-repellable gleeful-helpfulness. However, it is now getting to the middle of August and all of us who work within the tourism trade are now undeniably murderous. The sight of the first customer in the morning fills us with a dark and devious hatred. Even the bubbliest of personalities has become dry and cynical.

I don't understand how so many rude people came to be in this world. Or how they came to reproduce, making more potent mini-models of themselves. 'Please' and 'Thank You' is a basic, am I right? (I am right). If one more person whines about car parking I'll take it upon myself to ensure that their vehicle is no longer road worthy.

And with every person who asks me exactly how many fish they will catch, ignoring my insistence that I cannot predict the amount of fish in the sea, I sharpen my gutting knife a little more. The look of an enraged rhino shining in my eyes.

Customer service in Pembrokeshire reaches an all time low in this mid-season slump, as cashiers, sales assistants and waitresses the county over start counting down the days until all these remarkably irritating turds fuck off back home.

The cracks are starting to show on the other side too.  Previously Brady-bunch-esque families, who have come to the coast for a gloriously idyllic four week holiday together, are now visibly irritable, snapping at each other and refusing to share ice-cream.

Tourists are always coming on the boat saying how lucky we are to live here. We are, we are really privileged to live alongside this powerful and beautiful sea, to be nestled into the acres of green grass and tree's, and to have the sand beneath our feet in a matter of minutes, should the fancy take us. But the sad part is that, in those rare, warm and sunny moments, we have to share that beauty with gobby, littering brats and mouthy mums in swimming costumes two sizes too small for them. The beach becomes a seasons worth of Jeremy Kyle characters.
Or, even worse, we have to work through it. I'm lucky enough to be working outside, but for most of the locals here, the summer sun  is just a glare through the shop window, and the beach just a walk in the evening.

Myself and other locals on one of the many beach cleans that take place over the year

There's something not right there. The locals, who endure the wind, the rain (and there IS wind and rain, trust me) and the painfully slow nine months of the year, then have to be trapped inside for the three vaguely warmer months, ensuring that those (who probably come from much drier areas, where there is shit to do all year round) who are visiting have the most enjoyable stay possible.

What kind of buggering injustice is that?! WHO MAKES THE RULES HERE? I will not stand for it a year longer. So I'm going to Australia with my Manfriend. Ssssseeeeeeyyyaaaa!

In other, much more exciting news:

My Brother is getting married tomorrow! TOMORROW! It's very exciting and is going to be a really happy day, with lots of champagne one hopes. I love him dearly and am wholly proud (if not surprised) of the man he has become. Big love.

That's all for now

Jojo