SNOBS BEHIND THE COUNTER.

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 180, 1 August 1925, Page 21

SNOBS BEHIND THE COUNTER.

(By G. EDITH BURTON.)

I -We hear a good deal nowadays (and justly) about the snobbish behaviour of well-to-do women to their less fortunate sisters; but haye you ever noticed how some of the girls behind counters treat unknown gentlewomen? When I speak of gentlewomen I mean it in the best sense of the word—a woman who has only one set of manners, which she uses to rich and poor alike — a set which is co good that it cannot wear out. >She is also the possessor of a very kindly nature, perhaps, and she advances to the counter with a little smile and waits for attention. The Town Clock has just chimed the half-hour after nine, and the two young ladies behind the counter are engaged in a very spirited conversation. "Then I said, 'Well, you brought her, so you can just look after her.'" "Go on! and what did she say?" "Don't, for heaven's sake, don't tell mc she's still wearing that old mauve silk?" And so on. The shopper waits patiently for a few minutes; then, as neither girl seems aware of a patiently waiting customer, she says, pleasantly, "I would like to see some cream net, please." Without stirring, one of the girls calls over her shoulder, "Third counter down," and, in a most insolent disregard, continues her conversation with her friend. In spite of their apparent blindness —each girl has a mental inventory of the early shopper—her modest plumage is summed up as "a dowd," her gentle, unassuming manner, "nobody much." So she is allowed to wander off to "third counter down." Here the assistant gives her an appraising glance and sees in her a stranger of modest mien. The best nets are handiest, so she bangs them on the counter. "Haven't you anything cheaper than this ?" asks the shopper chilly. There is no reply, but another box is slapped on the counter—much cheaper nets —and with an indescribable sniff the assistant conveys her contempt for a poor creature who can only afford a one and sixpenny, net.' In another shop she ventures to buy a new hat. It is morning, the day is doubtful, and her gentle mind cannot conceive that any person could judge her by her hat, so she wears a last year's felt. A magnificent person sails across the velvet pile; a flicker of her eyelids marks the shopper's hat: Obsolete —19/11 A. "A hat, madam?" (and her voice makes the 6hopper feel that she is on a lonely raft in mid-ocean). "Miss Sharpe, kindly show this-lady some hats." Miss Sharpe comes forward, and # with her the cold wind grows warmer, the sun comes out, and the artificial flowers look almost real; for Miss. Sharpe happens to be a lady, or prettier and much more sincere word—a gentlewoman—the two gentlewomen enjoy qne another, and i a a very little while the shopper leaves, admirably suited with a hat. Now, if our shopper had been a gentlewoman, but had been dressed in fine or showy raiment, and had been the possessor of a domineering, assertive manner; had, she swept up to the different counters with an insolent "show mc this, show mc that," with never a "please" or a "thank you," those same girls behind the counter would have given her. their best service. They would have looked admiringly after her, and w r ondered whom she could be. Our shopper, too, made another mistake—she paid over the counter in good, hard cash, whereas, had she half a page in the ledger to herself, her name would have been bubbling to the lips of the assistants with every sentence.

Moral: Don't pay cash. Don't be too diffident, and when you go shopping, leave the lilies in the field and take "Solomon in all his glory" for your guide* , ,