Snootsville

I don’t normally generalise about a town, but I have had far too many negative experiences in Kerikeri to think anything else of it. Yesterday, Genevieve invited Stephen and me to come shopping with her and for a change, I didn’t have one single snooty reaction from any of the shopkeepers.

Once, while shopping, the woman wouldn’t give my friend and I change, instead, snatching the $20 bill from my hand and telling me that it would take care of my friend’s and my purchases. I told her we were separate, but she decided that she didn’t want to waste her change on us, instead, she wanted us to sort the situation out later between ourselves. In that instance, I put my produce back and informed her that if we weren’t good enough for change, then I didn’t want her produce. My friend followed suit. At that stage, I was living down country and only up for a holiday. We really did want those macadamia nuts, but not with that attitude attached.

Another time, I was in a shop that sold both used and new clothing. I spied a dress and misread the price tag. As I had two of these at home, I knew they were good value, but the size was too big. I asked if she had any in a smaller size and commented on the price. Immediately she took umbrage and told me that if I wanted charity then the shops I was after were down the road. She didn’t just leave it at that. ``Come here, I’ll show you where these are,’’ she said, beckoning me to the doorway and repeating her spiel. If she had not also sold second-hand clothing, I might have understood but it did seem rather rude.

Even the second-had shops have these same creatures lurking. Once, I had Willow with me and she was making her way towards a ‘’staff only’’ section. I pulled her back, explaining that we were not allowed there. The shop assistant piped up. ‘’You can if you volunteer. Come and volunteer and then you can go in there. Why don’t you volunteer.’’ Quite unnecessary. There was actually no need for any comment from her.

Once Willow was knocked over in the street and the person responsible didn’t even stop to see how she was. And that was shortly after I had been rudely asked to keep my child’s hand well away from the clothing in another shop.

And in the market yesterday, I spied a sign for new-season’s nectarines. I couldn’t see them anywhere and when I asked the man in charge, was told the direction I would find them. I was taken aback, as the fruit was smaller than a plum and I had mistaken the bag for these, rather than the juicy nectarines I had been envisaging. I asked him whether these were very nice. They didn’t look it. ‘’Oh yes, they are very juicy. I have to fight the birds off,’’ he replied. So, I bought the bag. Hard and tasteless.

Not everyone is like that, thank heavens. The men in the record shop have always been friendly and most of the stall-holders at the market, equally so.

But once, twice, thrice and more, tainted, it definitely leaves a not-so-pleasant memory of the place. The lack of parking doesn’t help the situation.

Give me Kaitaia any day.