Pete The Market Trader

The cold weather has meant a run on thermals and as a result I have run out of certain sizes and colours.  Now why anyone cares what colour their thermals are, bearing in mind that you wear them under your clothes, eludes me but there you go.

I had this guy on the stall on Wednesday and the conversation went like this.

“Can I have a medium thermal in grey?”

“No mate sorry I’ve sold out of grey”.

“But I want grey”.

“That’s as maybe, I haven’t got any”.

Clearly thinking that I am lying to him he then spends five minutes going through eight trays of thermals looking for something that I’ve already told him that I haven’t got.  After looking through every one he says.

“Are you sure you haven’t got any grey?”

I look at him and say “Ask me the question again”.

He just stares dumbfounded so I repeat.

“Ask me the question again, this time I’ll give you the answer you want”.

“Have you got any medium grey”, he asks.

“Yes”, I reply.

“Where?” he says and so I point to the eight trays that he has just been through.

He only goes and looks through them again and then says:

“I can’t find any”.

“That’s because I haven’t got any grey!”, I shout.

What do these people think?  It’s not like I don’t want their money but I can’t sell something that I haven’t got.

That’s this week’s report from Pete the Market Trader.  The man on the street.  Literally.

Black Friday may be good news for the shopping centres and the online retailers but on the market it’s the kiss of death because all of the punters are elsewhere.

In all honesty we all have an excuse for why the day is bad, it either too hot or too cold or it’s the end of the month or there’s a festival on or there’s a tube strike.

One day I am going to write a book and call it one hundred and one excuses for why I am having a bad day and may favourite chapter will be: ‘Excuses that you can only use once in your lifetime’.

My favourite excuse ever was the one I once heard while I was standing on East Street market and a trader I didn’t know sidled up to talk to me.

“How’s your day?” He asked.

“So, so” I told him, “How’s yours?” I countered already knowing what was coming.

“Quiet” he replied.

“Oh yeah”, I said, “Why do you think it’s so quiet today?”

“Well”, he said, “It’s probably because of the solar eclipse”.

I very doubt that I will ever hear that excuse again.

That’s this week’s report from Pete the market trader, the man on the street, literally.

This week’s story comes direct from Geoff who sells the glasses on Finchley.

All punters are a pain but some have elevated it to an art form.

Geoff was working St Albans this week when he was approached by this snooty old lady, the type that just mess you about for hours and never spend any money but still think that they are better than you because they’ve got a posh postcode.

‘You’re not normally here’ she said to Geoff in an accusatory manner.

Now Geoff is a big friendly mild-mannered gentleman with a big white beard, like Santa, and like Santa, he is hard to miss.

“I’ve been here for the last twenty years my darling” he informed the lady.

“Well I’ve never seen you” she replied indignantly.

“Perhaps you need glasses my love”. Said Geoff.

I fairness the lady did laugh and then said:

“Anyway I wouldn’t buy from you,” said the Lady “because I don’t live around here anymore, I’ve moved”.

“Where to?” enquired Geoff.

“Kidderminster,” said the Lady and went to walk off.

As she got a few yards away from the stall Geoff said,

“Where was it you said you had moved to?”

“Kidderminster” reiterated the Lady.

“I know Kidderminster,” said Geoff “It’s a right s**thole.

No offence Kidderminster, Geoff’s never been but the woman did need taking down a peg or two.  After all, she did make rather a spectacle of herself.

That’s this week’s report from Pete the Market Trader, the man on the street, Literally.

I wish to make a complaint.

Now, this is not like me being the jovial soul that I am but as you touched on it the other day Mr Hawkins I feel the plight of us market traders needs to be highlighted.

‘Wear your old band t-shirt to work day’.  Whose bright idea was it to have it in the middle of November?

It’s alright for all of you office wallah’s who work in nice heated environments where you can swan around all day in your short-sleeved fine cotton band merchandise but please spare a thought for the rest of us.

The poor souls who get up at five in the morning and travel to work in rusty transits with broken heaters and then spend the day outside in the freezing cold with our band t-shirts safely buried beneath a tuckerman coat and a fleece.  And I make this complaint not just on behalf of market traders but also for scaffolders, builders, farmers and cowboys.

We want to play too but we’re being barred from the club.

Come on Steve, move it to June so that we can all join in.

Up the workers.

That’s this weeks’ report from Pete the Market Trader.  The man on the street.  Literally.