he first thing I noticed was the rapidly averted gaze. Toting a clipboard immediately marks one as part of the ‘untouchable’ caste, languishing in the same pit as cold-callers, Betterware agents, market researchers, and people who spend train journeys choosing a new ring tone. We had our little stall set up outside a travel agent and a herbal remedy shop and it was amazing just how utterly captivating both of these establishments would suddenly become to the people who passed us.
So people aren’t going to come up and sign. OK, then I’ll go to them, clutching my clipboard and favouring them with my most winning of smiles (which is never likely to win more than an honourable mention, to be honest). Then come the excuses -generally delivered with no eye contact and a stiff bristle.
One common response, which quickly provoked my ire, was “sorry, I don’t have time” or “I’m too busy”. I let this remark pass the first few times I heard it. Since I had accepted the status of being the person essentially bothering other people, it initially didn’t occur to me to question this, even in my own head. This changed, though, when I was parried by a rather rotund early twenty-something. As he shuffled along the pavement, the burger at his face shedding wreckage across his fulsome stomach, I intercepted him with a couple of long strides and invited him to sign. "Sorry mate, too busy". I nodded and smiled but my real reply sloshed around my head like contents of a knocked tea cup.
