Mini Shopaholic
Page 82
‘We’re also tremendously excited by the pre-launch publicity we’re getting,’ Brenda continues. ‘We’ve already had mentions in Vogue and the Telegraph, and I understand Lord Cleath-Stuart has recently done an interview with Style Central magazine.’
‘Tarkie’s in Style Central?’ I stare at her, wanting to giggle. Style Central is the most cutting-edge Bible for avant-garde designers and fashion editors who live in places like Hoxton. And Tarkie is … well … Tarkie. I mean, he still wears the cricket sweater he had at Eton.
‘He did it with me,’ chips in Danny reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I did most of the talking. Great pictures,’ he adds. ‘He wasn’t afraid to push the boundaries. There’s, like, a real experimental edge to Tarquin, you know?’
‘Really?’ I say dubiously. Is this the same Tarquin we’re talking about? Tarquin who still washes his face with carbolic soap, no matter how many bottles of designer facewash Suze buys him?
‘Well, now.’ Trevor, our managing director, speaks for the first time, and everyone turns to listen. ‘While we’re all gathered here, I would like to single out another person at this table. Becky was the inspired member of staff who came up with this collaboration. First, introducing Danny Kovitz to the store in the first place – and now forging a relationship with Shetland Shortbread. Well done, Becky!’
There’s a smattering of applause and I start to beam modestly around, but Trevor holds up his hand to stop it.
‘Not just that. As we’re all aware, times are hard for the high street at the moment. However, Becky’s department has demonstrated a rise in sales over the last month of 17 per cent!’
He pauses for effect, and everyone else shoots me looks of either awe or hatred. Gavin, our menswear director, has gone all red around the neck and has a sulky frown.
‘And Becky’s customer testimonials are incredible,’ Trevor adds. ‘Jamie, would you like to read some out?’
‘Absolutely!’ Jamie from Customer Services nods enthusiastically. ‘Here’s one from Davina Rogers, a doctor. “Dear sir, I would like to commend you on your personal-shopping department and in particular, Rebecca Brandon. Her far-sighted and discreet approach to shopping in these times has made all the difference to me. I will be returning many times.”’
I can’t help glowing with pleasure. I had no idea Davina would write a letter! She emailed me a picture of herself at her reception – and she did look spectacular in that Alberta Ferretti dress.
‘Here’s another one.’ Jamie reaches for another print-out. ‘ “Finally someone understands what women need and want when they shop! Thank you so much, Chloe Hill.”’
I remember Chloe Hill. She bought up about ten pieces from the new Marc Jacobs collection and left them in the store. We arranged that the next evening, Jasmine would go round to her house with the clothes in a bin bag and pretend to be a neighbour returning to New Zealand, off-loading unwanted clothes. Apparently Chloe’s husband was there and was totally fooled. (The only hitch came when he suggested Chloe might give some of the clothes to their cleaner and accused her of being small-minded when she said not in a million years.)
‘In honour of this achievement,’ Trevor is saying now, ‘we would like to present Becky with this small token, and ask her: how on earth did you do it?’
To my astonishment he produces a bouquet of flowers from under the table, passes it across to me and leads a round of applause.
‘There’s no doubt who we’ll be announcing as Employee of the Year next month,’ Trevor adds, with a twinkle. ‘Congratulations, Becky.’
‘Wow.’ I can’t help blushing with pleasure. ‘Thanks very much.’
Employee of the Year! That’s so cool! You get five grand!
‘And now, seriously.’ Trevor barely waits a beat. ‘How did you do it, Becky? Can you explain the secret of your success?’
The applause dies away. Everyone around the table is waiting alertly for me to answer. I bury my face in the flowers and smell them, playing for time.
Thing is … I’m not sure I want to explain the secret of my success. Something tells me no one here would understand about delivering clothes to customers in bin bags. And even if they did, they’d all just start asking tricky questions like when did we start this initiative and who approved it and how does it accord with company policy?
‘Who knows?’ I look up at last with a smile. ‘Maybe all my customers are just trying to support the economy.’
‘But why only in your department?’ Trevor looks frustrated. ‘Becky, we want to harness your methods and apply them to all departments, whether it’s because of a particular product … a sales technique …’
‘Tarkie’s in Style Central?’ I stare at her, wanting to giggle. Style Central is the most cutting-edge Bible for avant-garde designers and fashion editors who live in places like Hoxton. And Tarkie is … well … Tarkie. I mean, he still wears the cricket sweater he had at Eton.
‘He did it with me,’ chips in Danny reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I did most of the talking. Great pictures,’ he adds. ‘He wasn’t afraid to push the boundaries. There’s, like, a real experimental edge to Tarquin, you know?’
‘Really?’ I say dubiously. Is this the same Tarquin we’re talking about? Tarquin who still washes his face with carbolic soap, no matter how many bottles of designer facewash Suze buys him?
‘Well, now.’ Trevor, our managing director, speaks for the first time, and everyone turns to listen. ‘While we’re all gathered here, I would like to single out another person at this table. Becky was the inspired member of staff who came up with this collaboration. First, introducing Danny Kovitz to the store in the first place – and now forging a relationship with Shetland Shortbread. Well done, Becky!’
There’s a smattering of applause and I start to beam modestly around, but Trevor holds up his hand to stop it.
‘Not just that. As we’re all aware, times are hard for the high street at the moment. However, Becky’s department has demonstrated a rise in sales over the last month of 17 per cent!’
He pauses for effect, and everyone else shoots me looks of either awe or hatred. Gavin, our menswear director, has gone all red around the neck and has a sulky frown.
‘And Becky’s customer testimonials are incredible,’ Trevor adds. ‘Jamie, would you like to read some out?’
‘Absolutely!’ Jamie from Customer Services nods enthusiastically. ‘Here’s one from Davina Rogers, a doctor. “Dear sir, I would like to commend you on your personal-shopping department and in particular, Rebecca Brandon. Her far-sighted and discreet approach to shopping in these times has made all the difference to me. I will be returning many times.”’
I can’t help glowing with pleasure. I had no idea Davina would write a letter! She emailed me a picture of herself at her reception – and she did look spectacular in that Alberta Ferretti dress.
‘Here’s another one.’ Jamie reaches for another print-out. ‘ “Finally someone understands what women need and want when they shop! Thank you so much, Chloe Hill.”’
I remember Chloe Hill. She bought up about ten pieces from the new Marc Jacobs collection and left them in the store. We arranged that the next evening, Jasmine would go round to her house with the clothes in a bin bag and pretend to be a neighbour returning to New Zealand, off-loading unwanted clothes. Apparently Chloe’s husband was there and was totally fooled. (The only hitch came when he suggested Chloe might give some of the clothes to their cleaner and accused her of being small-minded when she said not in a million years.)
‘In honour of this achievement,’ Trevor is saying now, ‘we would like to present Becky with this small token, and ask her: how on earth did you do it?’
To my astonishment he produces a bouquet of flowers from under the table, passes it across to me and leads a round of applause.
‘There’s no doubt who we’ll be announcing as Employee of the Year next month,’ Trevor adds, with a twinkle. ‘Congratulations, Becky.’
‘Wow.’ I can’t help blushing with pleasure. ‘Thanks very much.’
Employee of the Year! That’s so cool! You get five grand!
‘And now, seriously.’ Trevor barely waits a beat. ‘How did you do it, Becky? Can you explain the secret of your success?’
The applause dies away. Everyone around the table is waiting alertly for me to answer. I bury my face in the flowers and smell them, playing for time.
Thing is … I’m not sure I want to explain the secret of my success. Something tells me no one here would understand about delivering clothes to customers in bin bags. And even if they did, they’d all just start asking tricky questions like when did we start this initiative and who approved it and how does it accord with company policy?
‘Who knows?’ I look up at last with a smile. ‘Maybe all my customers are just trying to support the economy.’
‘But why only in your department?’ Trevor looks frustrated. ‘Becky, we want to harness your methods and apply them to all departments, whether it’s because of a particular product … a sales technique …’
