Three year old left screaming when customer service goes wrong

My youngest ended up screaming after a worker on the trains nearly rammed us with her trolley.

After a hectic two days braving the train journey to Manchester with five children between two mums, being asked for ID (despite my age), playing super mum to ensure the youngest didn't miss any of the fabulous Peppa Pig Live show despite needing the toilet and playing 'avoid the laptop' on the train home to ensure the children weren't exposed to any inappropriate content from fellow travellers; we were on the last stretch.  Home was in sight.  Our station was only ten minutes away.

But of course, the excitement hadn't finished.  Just as I am beginning to think about gathering our 'stuff' together, the food trolley enters the carriage.  My youngest was still sat on my knee, angled outwards to avoid the screen of the laptop of our fellow traveller, and her feet were obviously in the aisle. She then started to get down off my knee (she wanted to go around the table to her sister) just as the lady pulling the trolley entered our carriage.

Trolleys with tardis-like proportions, managing to hold any snack you can imagine.  They are only just slim enough to fit down the corridor between the seats.

The lady responsible for the trolley was pulling it behind her incredibly quickly. 

The lady didn't slow, she didn't appear to be taking any notice of anything other than pulling that trolley down the carriage as fast as possible.  I don't even think she saw my daughter, who isn't quite one metre tall yet, stood in the middle of the aisle in front of her. 

I hoisted my daughter back up onto my knee as fast as I could and swung her legs in under the table.  The lady and her trolley were bearing down on us and my foot was still angled outwards into the aisle.  I had to quickly pull it inwards, not realising that the motion of moving my leg in also raised my knee, squeezing my daughters legs between my knee and the table top.

The lady and the trolley sped past, oblivious.  My daughter on the other hand; my daughter who is a strong, brave girl and who rarely cries even if she's fallen off her bike, opened her mouth wide and howled!

I spent the next five minutes trying to console her.  Just as she calmed down, we were pulling into our stop and my friend and I had to move fast to gather her and the other four children (all five years old or less) together, not forgetting any belongings, to get off the train.

There was no time to find the trolley lady.  No chance to complain.  No chance to say; hey!  Look where you are going!

I went to the station manager's office and tried to raise a complaint there.  Funnily enough it wasn't theirs to deal with.  I received the usual answer "it's not our responsibility.  The catering is subcontracted.  But if you take a leaflet you could write in."

I was livid.  Hiring subcontractors for part of your service does not absolve you of responsibility.  Telling me to 'write in' is not what customer service is all about.

Charging down a busy aisle without giving warning, or watching out for potential obstructions is NOT good customer service.

And of course, I still blamed myself.  Because it's my responsibility to look out for her.

What do you think?  Is it too much to ask for people to look where they are going - particularly when there are young children around?

Censorship? What should we censor for children?

Our journey back from Manchester, after the excitement of seeing Peppa Pig Live, was, since it was on the train again, full of the same stresses of the journey there, only with the added interest of a couple of incidents.

I was in two minds as to whether to talk about both of them here, but I'm going to split them out and deal with them separately in two posts, so: -

First up, the "filmwatcher" and a question of censorship.

You know how you often get folk on the train with their laptops out, pretending to work but actually watching films or playing computer games on-line?  Our train home was so full that yes, you've guessed it, three of the children and I had to squeeze around a table already occupied by a gentleman who was watching a film on his laptop. Don't I sound all posh referring to a gentleman.  Would 'man' be better?

The two older children sat opposite, and I sat next to him (the man) with my youngest (aged 3 years - that's relevant later) sat on my knee.

My girls and I immediately managed to cover every remaining portion of space on that table with "stuff".  Magazines that we'd bought for the children for the journey home, snacks, drinks, and a lunch box.  The man took it all in his stride, and simply continued watching his film with his headphones on.  I had respect for him at that point.  He was coping remarkably well.  I concluded that he either had children or was used to them being around.  Anyone else would have been tutting by now.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye at the screen (he was sitting next to me.  It's not officially nosey if I can't help but be observant is it?) to see if I recognised what he was watching.

On catching site of the screen and taking in the image, I immediately twisted my youngest around slightly more on my knee so that she was facing away from it, and rested my hand on top of the lunchbox to block her view, despite the fact that she probably couldn't see it anyway due to the tight angle of vision she'd have had.

The reason for this, is that the scene I caught sight of was Daniel Craig with a plastic bag fastened over his face in some sort of torture scene.  I wondered initially if the film was James Bond, but I'm reliably told that it was probably Layer Cake.

The man seemed oblivious to the fact that his film was showing a torture scene and a small child was sat next to him.  Honestly, she couldn't see it at the angle I had her, probably couldn't have seen it before, but still, he was completely oblivious.  I re-evaluated by conclusion that he was used to being around children.

However, that film also had 'scenes of a sexual nature'.  And, very interestingly, the second that a naked Daniel Craig was on screen on top of a naked female co-star, the man's hand shot out to the laptop touchpad to fastforward and skip the scene.

I have never seen a hand move that fast.  I had to try hard not to giggle.  My instinct was not to embarrass him; so I pretended to be equally oblivious to his scene skipping.

He then realised he'd skipped too far ahead, tried to skip back a little bit, overshot and ended up back at the naked bodies, and had to skip right back off them again!

I sat wondering whether he was skipping the scene out of courtesy to me?  But if so, why?  Did he think having breasts on his screen would embarrass me?  Why would that embarrass me?  I see naked breasts every day - it's a (debatable) advantage of being a woman.  Because it had a naked Daniel Craig in it?  Don't skip that on my account.  I definitely won't be embarrassed by that!  Or just for the sake of the 3 year old?  In which case, if he censored the sex, why on earth didn't he censor the torture and suffocation?

I wondered what principles he was basing his censorship on?  Whether he was doing it for himself (embarrassment), for us (compassion or empathy or both), or because he felt he should (peer pressure)?

I'd have preferred him to skip the torture scene and leave the sexual scene on; if I had to choose between the two.  Ideally I'd have avoided both until she's a little older!

What do you think?  I'd love to hear your views on what, if any, responsibility falls on someone watching a film in a public place.


If you want to hear more about our half term trip, with tips to avoid the pitfalls we fell into click the following links:
Taking children to the theatre? Our adventures at Peppa Pig Live
Taking children on the train?  Here's what you really need to consider.
Trying to buy wine?  Tesco Express choose bureaucratic nonsense over common sense

Taking children to the theatre?: Check out our adventures at Peppa Pig Live!

Click here for tickets near you

A frustrating trip to the local store and a stressful ride on the train later and we arrive in Manchester.

The travelling isn't over though.  It turns out we are staying at the Arndale Travel Lodge, which, according to my map, is at least a Metroshuttle ride across town. (free though!)  It turned out to be a Metroshuttle ride across town followed by half an hour walking along the side of the Arndale centre twice, being pointed in the wrong direction by helpful passers by twice and having to console four walking children and maintain their enthusiasm for the walk (the lucky youngest was falling asleep in the buggy by now - buggy troubles on the train were worth it!).

They all coped incredibly well, and were praised accordingly, when we finally found the hotel.

The hotel was fine.  What more can you say about that chain?  Although I did ask for extra sheets and an extra duvet and pillow, just in case.  Every mother knows that if you don't have spares you are going to need them!

And so, the exciting morning arrived.  Worn out from jumping on the beds the night before and not getting to sleep until nearly 9pm (bedtime is usually 7.00pm) they slept late and we had to get them to breakfast fairly quickly.  We found our way to the Opera House (another long walk, confusing moment trying to locate the another supposedly obvious Metroshuttle stop and another Metroshuttle ride later) in plenty of time.

Booking tickets for the 10am morning showing was our best move of the entire trip.  The circle was practically empty, allowing us more freedom of movement and better sight lines to the exits (with our 5 children to 2 mums ratio on this trip I had turned into Matthew Bourne!)

My youngest wanted to cuddle Peppa Pig.  I had to explain that this was a show that we were going to watch; that Peppa would be on the stage and that we probably wouldn't be able to give her a cuddle today, but that we would blow her lots of kisses which I was sure she'd appreciate.  Youngest duly placated.

Sweets were handed around just before curtain up.  (Bought outside the venue and took inside.  We are not made of money you know)  And the show started.

I had been given advance warning that the show contained puppets, not adult-size characters, and I'm glad I had the warning.  I think I'd have been a little disappointed otherwise.  But it's done very well.  The puppeteers interacting with the puppets very obviously, not trying to pretend they are anything other than puppets, but equally not pointing it out.

Frequent visits from Miss Rabbit at opportune times were met with glee and the children sat transfixed, which is all we could hope for.

I was actually beginning to relax until, after the interval (when she'd been to the toilet once already), the youngest pipes up:

"I need a wee wee, mummy!"

In a fraction of a second I'm calculating...... approximate time since the interval; approximate length of the second half factoring in the length of the first half; the current point in the story arc; an assumption as to how long the cast will need before the afternoon matinee for rest; to work out whether I'm better taking her now (missing a section) or wait and risk missing the end when she can't quite make it.  I'm listening to the actors on stage whilst asking my daughter if she needs to go now, or if she can wait.  She hesitantly says she can wait.  But; with my nearly acquired spy-like skills I work out the approximate distance to the toilets, the time required, and listening to every word they are saying on stage I work out that they are all about to go on a balloon ride.... Great! They are bound to drag this bit out.  And I don't think she can wait - she just doesn't want to miss anything.

Right.  GO GO GO!

I hoist her up into my arms, trundle down the aisle (empty to the end - I said it worked out well going to an early showing didn't I), run up the stairs and tear across the area behind the seats to the archway leading out to the toilets.  Luckily Manchester Opera House circle is perfectly designed for those with children.  Right up until we went through that archway my daughter could still see the stage perfectly.  And then we were through...

Down the corridor, turn the corner (careful not to swing around too hard and bump her head on the wall), five more steps, throw open the door to the toilets, up 4 steps, throw open the next door, run in, place daughter down on her feet stood in front of the toilet.  A quick downwards swish, an upwards lift onto the seat, a grab of enough toilet paper, a pause (take a breathe), lift her off, wipe, upwards swish, hoist her back up, and fling open the door again.  Retrace our steps, and step back through the archway less than 2 minutes later.  Then return to a slow stroll, (so as to catch my breath before sitting back down and sounding like a dirty caller with all the heavy breathing).  Back across the rear of the auditorium, down the stairs, into our aisle, sit back down, AND still remember to grab the small bottle of anti-bacterial hand wash that I keep in my bag at all times, to wipe her hands before they go back in the sweetie bag. (that shaved a good minute off our time outside the auditorium.)

And you know what... they still hadn't landed that balloon.  She didn't miss a thing. Supermum!

The rest of the day was fun; mainly because we had achieved our aim of getting them to the show and therefore were feeling fairly smug.  Another Metroshuttle to the station; which my eldest was happy to note was the purple line which we hadn't yet tried out, making a full set of all three.  Who knew 'Metroshuttle bingo' would be so much fun.  We had a picnic lunch from M&S, including pre-filled wine glasses for the train ride home.  I told you I'd get that Rose at some point!  And braved the train home.

The train ride home was even more stressful than the one there...and a final post to fill you in on the dodgy film watching antics of some train passengers and the appalling customer service from the catering team will follow soon to finish this set of posts about our half term adventure!

If you've picked up some tips from our adventure, or had a giggle, then my work here is done!

The first two instalments of our trip are here:
Tesco Express chooses bureaucratic nonsense over common sense
Taking children on the train: here's what you really need to consider
And part four is here:
Censorship?  What should we censor for children?