I NOW have proof positive that at least one person other than myself reads this column.

Following last week's article on

service, bemoaning the passing of the helpful garage attendant, I had a phone call to tell me it is alive and well in Alfriston. There is a real live man who fills up your car with petrol, cleans off the suicidal flying objects on your windscreen and checks your oil and water.

I've no doubt such sterling service also includes the dreaded tyre pressures, though it was not specifically mentioned by the caller.

I seriously considered for one mad moment the possibility of moving home lock, stock and barrel to Alfriston, but in a saner moment decided that was a bit over the top even for me. In any case after this is published I would probably be at the end of a long queue!

But it is nice to know such service can still be found. My problem would be it is hard to drive to Alfriston on about a teaspoonful of petrol.

The article also produced a number of calls about service, or the lack of it,

in our so-called service industries

today.

One shining example of good service came from a lady whose keys had been stolen when the home of her cleaning lady was broken into.

She works long hours and did not

relish the thought of a potential thief having possible access to her empty house.

She rang a local firm which made immediate arrangements to collect her spare key from her workplace, fit all the new locks, cut the appropriate keys and bring them to her at work.

No fuss, no bother and no inflated price because of the inconvenience, and hence one very happy customer who was only too ready to sing the praises of the firm concerned.

Contrast this with another well-known firm of electrical goods suppliers which could not supply a TV set with Teletext immediately but would arrange for one to be available in a week. Fair enough, except that when the TV was collected (at some inconvenience to the people concerned) and installed, guess what? You're right - it was a set with no text!

The same couple ordered a cooker hood, only to find it was cracked when delivered. No problem, said the firm we'll order another.

One duly arrived, but can you believe it, it was the cracked one re-delivered!

Let me however end on a happy note. A friend who is partially disabled and needs to wear boots all the time has some difficulty getting really comfortable ones.

We went to Churchill Square this week and found a shop with just the kind of thing she was looking for.

A young man spent something like three-quarters of an hour fitting her with a selection of boots, sitting

amicably at her feet, fetching all sorts of different styles, making her feel as though she was the one person in the world who mattered for that time.

And of course she was - she was the customer, and she will be back.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.