Diary of a Shopkeeper, 26th July

Kirkness & Gorie has been open for nearly a month, and we’re pretty well adjusted to the new regime we have to follow. 

Cleaning every morning, and several times during the day – we did that anyway, we just do it extra-thoroughly now.  Providing wipes and sanitiser for customers – easy, we just have to remember to stock up regularly.  Social distancing – not too tricky, as we have  clear floor markings, and customers are generally patient about waiting. 

It has to be said, our worries about over-crowding have been mitigated by the fact that the street isn’t really very busy.  There are a few tourists, but most of our custom is loyal locals who we’re delighted to see again, but who rarely push us over our “four people at a time” limit.

Our behind-the-counter area is completely separated from the display area by two massive Perspex screens that hang down from the ceiling to the top of the display fridges.  Made and installed by a local glass-supply company, they’re so visually unobtrusive that customers occasionally bang their foreheads on them as they bend over to study the cheese.

However, the screen does result in the one real problem the new regime is causing us.  Or, to be exact, the screen in combination with customers’ masks are problematic.  To be blunt, we can’t hear what you’re saying half the time.

The screen and masks do a wonderful job of keeping staff and customers from breathing over each other, but they also make communication very tricky.  Some customers, like Mrs Stentorian, who I mentioned in last week’s column, naturally project their voice like an actor performing to the back row of a rowdy Friday night theatre.  Most speak at a normal  conversational level, which is now hard to hear, and some at a near-whisper.  The whisperers have us leaning over the counter at the best of times, and at the moment their quietness means we have to rely on a bizarre version of the Twenty Questions game:

“What cheese can I get you today?”

“Mmhh aadd eese.”

“Is it a hard cheese you want?”

“Edda odda mmm.”

I hold up a block of Orkney Cheddar.  “Is it this one?”  Customers shakes head.

“How about this then?  Godminster Organic?  Very popular!”

He points.  “Oh, oh, idda oke, oke – eh!”

I think he’s indicating Woodew, a smoked Cheshire, so I fish it out.  He nods vigorously and gives me the thumbs up.  Whew!  Now I just have to find out how much he wants.

Most of us aren’t wholly in control of the way we speak.  Our voices are a mixture of anatomy, upbringing and character. Many have observed that Orcadians tend towards softer, quieter speaking styles

Words come out of our mouths without us having much idea what we actually sound like.  And most of the time we can make ourselves understood.  But these are special circumstances.  When screens and masks intervene, we all – shopkeepers as well as customers – need to make a special effort to speak up.

There was a strange parallel in the reaction to the Prime Minister’s visit to Orkney last week.  Some protested against his policies along the roadsides with banners and boos.  Others in turn protested online about the protesters – saying that it wasn’t “the Orkney way” to voice disagreements in public. 

It would take a book rather than a short column to work out if talking about politics is really un-Orcadian, and if so, whether that’s a good thing.  But there’s no doubt, you’re unlikely to get the cheese you want by whispering into a mask.  Speak up!

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 28th July. Other diaries will appear weekly. I am posting them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.