Do we live in a ‘culture of complaint’, as one art critic suggests,. Willing at the drop of a hat to make mention of the smallest detail that doesn’t suit us? Maybe if you buy a big ticket item or you book seat X at a concert and get seat Y then a complaint is in order?  Some poor sod at the other end of the strangled customer service line has a noose just behind the desk because the next person to complain about situation Y or product Z will be the turning point. All that misery getting inside you head could whip the brain chemicals up into a fizzing cauldron of acid – eating away your sensibility until maybe you snap at the ‘customer’ – who is always right.

Person to person might be even worse, the only shield a sheaf of plywood between you and the formidable customer. They come rolling into the store like a live sea mine, lots of prickly barbs and spikes that will erupt into an explosion at the slightest provocation. They smell of smoke and fire and brimstone as they laud their complaint, of how they’ve been wrong done by, chewing on it for satisfaction like a fat stick of licorice, going to current affairs shows to reveal the latest consumer rip-off. Look, when it’s genuine then fine – you buy something and it breaks, then within a reasonable period fix it – yeah – but some people get it completely out of proportion. What starts out as a sandcastle seems to become a 3 story house by the time they’re finished, you look at the item in question, turn it on and it flashes and squeaks just like it’s meant to and they ask – “how did you do that”. You reveal the amazing  battery pouch where the battery was inserted the wrong way round. Logic overcoming complaint with ease. . The huffy customer walks out as if nothing has happened. If only we could capture that hot air and use it to generate power , we might light up a whole city.