One Saturday afternoon when we were very busy, I went to take my tea in the tea-room as usual, only to find my way barred by a group of people with two large dogs. Now, we didn't allow dogs. Across the entire nation the organisation did not allow dogs in formal gardens. It said so in the front of the handbook. Many people chose to ignore that, and being in the wrong, usually argued the point most forcefully with our kiosk staff. I was often called upon to defuse threatening behaviour. Those who know they are in the wrong will always try to get their own way by trying to brazen it out. In this case the presence of dogs at the tea-room meant only one thing - they hadn't come through the front door and paid or shown their passes. They had sneaked in by the back gate, unobserved.
I began the skirmish with, 'I'm sorry, we don't allow dogs in the garden'.
'We're only having a cup of tea'.
'But you are in the garden, and we don't allow dogs. Nor do we allow them in the tea-room, as a matter of fact - hygiene'.
'There's no sign to say so'.
'Well, that's because I believe you came in via the back gate, where we do not permit access, hence no signs to encourage it'.
'Well the dogs won't go in the garden. We'll just sit here and have our drinks'.
'Are you members?'
'What? No!'
'How many of you are there? Four?'
'Yes'.
'Then what I suggest we do, is you accompany me to our entrance-kiosk, with your dogs, pay your £22 admission, and leave the dogs in the shade to be watched over by our staff'.
'I'm not paying to visit the garden when I only want a drink'.
'I'm afraid the tea-room is a facility for the use of visitors to the garden. For that you will have to pay £22. I cannot allow you to take up seats that other people are entitled to, having paid to come in. Nor can I permit your dogs access, when bona fide visitors have left theirs in their cars'.
'Now, you look,' he said, getting right up in my face, spitting with rage and hollering. 'I'm not buying tickets and I'm having a drink. What are you going to do about it? Throw us out, physically?'
Without flinching or backing off, I said, looking straight up his nostrils, a glorious calm descending upon me, 'Oh no. Of course not. I'm going to draw up a chair and grant you my company for the duration of your stay, so we can continue this conversation in front of all these people here'.
At which he gathered up his embarrassed companions and dragged the dogs up the back drive, shouting and gesticulating like a demented man with his y-fronts full of wasps. I received a spontaneous round of applause from the other guests for that performance.
I think there are people who assume that because we do what we do, then we must be a nice soft touch. We're supposed to be quiet, helpful types who will cave in under a gentle push. But we're not all like that. And whichever camp we fall into, we still deserve respect. It's all about firmness, consistency, persistence, standing your ground, and above all, not being intimidated. The bullies can't deal with that.
The cartoon above amplifies all that I have been saying. Respect is a difficult thing to gain when you have chosen this career path. and it is not just stroppy visitors who deny you it. Even your own bosses can have an inappropriate attitude. More to come on that. Meanwhile, if you have arrived at this blog mid-term, have a look back at the beginning. Go back to January. There are a couple of early posts entitled 'Respect' and 'Respect 2' which are relevant here.
Just to prove that we gardeners are not just everybody's convenient menial, tomorrow I shall start the story of the summer bedding.
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